#yata still feels bad that he missed Fushimi's meaning entirely

[ridiasfangirlings]

Funny how Fushimi has such insecurities when practically one king was Making a mess just to have him join his group (Hisui) while the other (Munakata) helped him with the intention, I think, of having him join the blue clan instead. He's wanted and his talent is recognised by three Kings, if we add Mikoto. And that makes me wonder, how would Yata react if he learned about the whole Hisui fiasco just to have Fushimi? 😧😧 Please?

Yata probably wouldn't have time to be impressed that Fushimi was being courted by three Kings, being too upset that Hisui was messing with Fushimi like that and Yata never even knew. Like imagine some point post-ROK when Yata and Fushimi are having their talk he mentions the hallucinations and how Hisui tried to recruit him and Yata's just like wait wait what happened now. Fushimi explains how all that went down and I think Yata's first reaction would just be 'why didn't you say something you idiot?' Fushimi clicks his tongue and he says Yata wouldn't have listened to him even if he had and Yata's like see this is why you get misunderstood all the time Saruhiko, because you assume shit like this and then end up not saying anything and wondering why no one notices. I think Yata would be really pissed that Hisui was playing with Fushimi that way, like even if the whole hallucination idea was initiated in any way by Aya there's still the simple fact that Hisui was trying to isolate Fushimi even more from the Red clan just to recruit him and not caring about how that might affect Fushimi's mental health.

Imagine during their conversation too Yata's like you wouldn't have joined that guy anyway right and Fushimi kinda pauses, like he was so miserable in Homra at that point that he can't even say either way if he would have rejected Hisui if Munakata hadn't shown up when he did. This would make things hit home a bit more for Yata about how out of place Fushimi felt in Homra though, like even with jungle playing with him that way it still might have felt like more of a refuge than Homra did. I could see Yata also being a little angry at himself for never noticing what Fushimi was going through though, like even while he's annoyed that Fushimi never said anything part of Yata is just so upset because he feels like as Fushimi's partner he should have realized that something was off about Saruhiko at that time and he didn't, and maybe he could have avoided some of this mess if only he'd been trying harder to understand Fushimi at that time (also it probably rankles that Munakata was aware that something was going on with Fushimi while Yata wasn't, even though Yata probably knows how perceptive the Blue King is there's still this little twinge of jealousy that someone else saw what was happening with Fushimi while Yata was completely oblivious to it).

[its-love-u-asshole]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Awashima Seri/Douhan Hirasaka 

Summary: Saruhiko would never admit to being inspired by...anyone really, but he's come to learn there are always exceptions.

Rating: T

Tags: fluff, established relationship, fushimi pov

Note: yooo ITS BEEN FOREVER!!! I assume this year will be the last sarumi fest, so I thought I should do at least a little something! I missed these two losers a lot, they're the pairing that brought me back to writing four years ago, and I owe the K fandom so much. I've met some amazing, lifelong friends, and whenever I remember my days in the fandom I just remember endless support and encouragement! I'm sad this will probably be the last K fic I'll ever write, but I'm also glad I'm sticking to my roots and delivering some plain old fluff ^^ (also seri and douhan pft I adore them) I hope you enjoy!

It starts with Douhan and Seri.

Saruhiko never would've expected it from them; out of all the people in his life who he's...somewhat comfortable calling friends, they're the two who annoy him the least. Sometimes they drag him to the gym or the mall, if for no other reason than to expose him to sunlight and fresh air...but even then, their words and the general cadence of their voices don't grate on his nerves.

He's...not entirely against being around them, is what he means.

Even when the two women began to date that didn't change, though he did avoid them during the first month. Back then, the intimate and subtle demonstrations of affection didn't compute in his mind. He couldn't make sense of them without feeling weird; a strange coiling would start in his gut and work through his body until he couldn't sit still. Like a code he couldn't crack or particularly rough work day, he couldn't figure out what it was about every delicate touch or private whisper.

It was uncomfortable, and he hated to admit that. He hated being bothered by things he didn't understand.

At least with large crowds or hot-blooded people, it was easy to explain away; they were annoying, simple as that.

Yet, like with a lot of other habits he'd clung to over the years, the instinct to shy away from understanding when it came to that level of intimacy began to be more trouble than it was worth.

There was just nothing to fuel it anymore, and besides...

Douhan and Seri simply embodied something he was grasping for, something he’d always been grasping for, though he refuses to admit it.

Back then, and now. Nothing has changed.

"I like you, Saruhiko!" Misaki says at the top of his lungs. It's too loud, the volume might make Saruhiko squint in distaste.

If it were anyone else.

Misaki had always been his exception, and he never liked to admit it.

Saruhiko's heart stops in his chest as he stares at his best friend, looking like a drowned rat on his doorstep. They'd met for dinner on the other side of town; by that time, it was a habit. No more distrust, no more fights...

Just a lightness Saruhiko never thought he'd feel again, something he's still not used to feeling.

And just when he thought he was okay with just that, just when he'd begun to ignore the nagging in his mind which always seemed to want Misaki closer and closer, the other decided to cross the distance entirely.

Saruhiko's honestly shocked the redhead was dealing with the same issues, but now there's no way to deny the possibility.

Because Misaki is here. He probably ran all the way back from his home at this ungodly hour because as always, he couldn't wait. He couldn't just...slow down.

And Saruhiko's completely powerless to do anything but cave.

When Saruhiko doesn't say anything for a while, Yata's rain-soaked features flood with red, and it’s not like that of his aura. "I-I mean, like-like you know?"

Yes, he does.

Shockingly he does.

Misaki is blushing for Saruhiko, and it's so satisfying and scary all at once.

"I probably always have but--I was waiting for you to get over yourself!"

Saruhiko almost laughs.

Of course. He could make fun of Misaki's shyness, his complete inexperience with anything resembling romance. How could he possibly know what he feels? How does he know Saruhiko deserves it?

Those are the instinctual questions which run through his mind, but they're not the last. Again, old habits don't necessarily fade away, but they lose some of their power, as all things do.

Saruhiko can't run from this, not this time.

He clicks his tongue after the longest silence in the world, and Misaki's fidgeting comes to an abrupt halt.

"Was that supposed to be a confession?" Saruhiko laughs, and for a moment, he sees the fear in Misaki's. The moment where he knows the expected defiance should be, the refusal. Saruhiko can't hold it against him, it's what part of him still yearns to do.

Yet, Saruhiko still defies expectation. "I bet I could do a better job."

It's a lie, his hands are shaking from how much of a lie it is. He's not sure what he's capable of these days, but when Misaki is looking at him like that...

He can't deny him anymore.

Misaki's eyes widen, the clear shock so priceless and satisfying, despite the uneven beating of Saruhiko's heart. Then, it's gone, replaced with a grin too bright and fiery. Lately, Saruhiko sees it a lot, but he'll probably never be used to it. Misaki scoffs, the challenge burning in his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it."

And in a matter of seconds, the doorstep is as empty as before.

Many would say he was just as bad as Seri and Douhan now. After that, things seemed to spiral. It’s been a year, but with Misaki, time seems to stretch on and on. His boyfriend has a habit of making everything they do together seem like the first time, it's a power Saruhiko has yet to understand.

But, otherwise, he's used to it now. He gets it, in a way. The intimate touches, the whispered words, he's familiar with them now, along with a hundred other small things which come with being with Misaki.

So, Seri and Douhan were no longer an issue.

For a year.

Unfortunately, here they are again, disrupting his normal stream of consciousness with a boulder, leaving him stranded and stuck without an ounce of knowledge of where to go next.

He watches from his desk as Douhan gets down on one knee, revealing a rose gold wedding band with opal in the center.

Why does Seri's desk have to be in his immediate line of sight?

Saruhiko's finger twitches as Douhan slides the ring onto Seri's finger; it's a fitting choice, given their different clans, he guesses. When it comes to accessories, Douhan always knows best. The opal reflects all the colors.

Douhan's normally neutral face is the same to any outside observe; but Saruhiko sees the gentle upward tilt of her lips, the shakiness of her usually precise hands.

It's overwhelming, but he can't look away.

Again, they've thrown him totally off center, and with what? A proposal?

Why does that bother--

He crushes the question like a glass bottle. He knows why, and he hates it. It's so pathetically vulnerable and unnecessary and yet...

He sees the way Seri blushes, the mistiness taking over her strict expression; Douhan is truly bold, coming to their place of work to make such a grand gesture.

The guys are already up and congratulating Seri loudly, but Saruhiko hears none of it.

Seri jumps into Douhan's arms and then green eyes meet him from across the room, like they know he's been watching. They always know.

Douhan gives him a knowing look, it doesn't even last a second, and then her focus is all Seri.

Saruhiko understands.

Yes, that's why the gesture bothers him, because unlike before, he does understand this. He just wishes he knew how to deal with it better.

The proposal bothers him for one reason and one reason only: he wants it.

Saruhiko wants.

And it never gets easier admitting that.

Beside him, his phone buzzes, like it tends to around this time. He knows exactly who it is before he picks it up, and it drives his new revelation home.

Misaki: Hey! We r still grabbing dinner yeah?!

Don't they always?

Saruhiko's eyes soften, he can feel it, and he can't do anything to stop them.

Saruhiko: We do every Thursday.

It doesn't stop him from being a bit of a smart-ass though.

He doesn't read the barrage of texts he gets after that, though the urge is there. His phone vibrates for a few seconds, some weak retort Saruhiko will no doubt tease his boyfriend for later.

Then, thirty seconds pass, and a reluctant buzz comes again. Saruhiko doesn't have to read it to blush, Misaki is so predictable sometimes.

There's about two hours until he's off work, not enough time for what needs to be done, but he pulls up a few websites anyways.

As far as rings go, there's a lot to weed through, some gaudy and some plain. He wrinkles his nose, and the light feeling in his chest doesn't leave him for the rest of his shift.

It takes him a while to realize it, but he finds he doesn't care what rings they have, all of them suit Misaki in Saruhiko's mind, and nothing will probably change that.

He doubts he'd try.

[neioo]

Fanfic Rec! ( • ω • ) 

Rules I’m constraining myself to: I’ve either had to read the fic more than three times and/or have thought about it years in the future. (This means I’ll have to leave out some other fics I really enjoyed reading and thought were well written) 

A bunch of different fandoms will be under the cut! (as I expose what I ship across the board too lol)

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier (usuk) (complete)

This is the first fic of george’s that I read, and I’ve read it multiple times, and it’s been integral in my shaping of characterizations within my own hetalia fics. I could include all of his works, but this one stands out the most. I also listen to the vera verse songs and get extremely nostalgic, so there’s that

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred’s charms… just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue… by anonymous (pruaus) (unfinished)

This fic is odd in the sense that I found it while suddenly getting on a pruaus kick, during which I followed a bunch of pruaus people on tumblr. Eventually, I would find out years later that I was going to the same college as one of these people and become friends with them. So not only does this fic have a nostalgic tie to it, I find the story brilliantly written with wonderful characterization, though it is in a weird format.

Inspired by the film 500 Days of Summer, I’d really like to see a couple meet and fall in love, but eventually one (or both) ends the relationship because they realise it’s not working/they can’t imagine spending their whole life with this person/what have you. I’d really love to see how the relationship develops, with the happy times and the eventual bad times as it falls apart, and then the hope of finding love elsewhere.

Redeemer by CocoaCoveredGods (L x Light, Mello x Matt, Mello x Light) (complete)

I can’t tell you how happy I am that I found this fic after 6 or so years. I can’t tell you how nostalgic is makes me for my death note phase, remember when I would read this in my mom’s office, minimizing the fic on a laptop I hope she never checked. The writing is phenomenal. The format on this site is wonky, but doable to read. (I’m even reformatting it myself right now). It’s mostly everything I could have wanted in a death note fic; it even inspired my own very complex death note AU back in the day. In some alternate reality, I wrote that instead of AWH. I plan to maybe make a personal paper copy for myself of this fic I love it so much. It is on the level of George’s stuff on how much it means to me.

The story takes place *after* Death Note ends, although the main characters have not died. Here the Yellowbox Warehouse is essentially the pinnacle of L's 6-year long offensive against Kira, who believes L to be dead, when he really isn't. L faked his death, and proceeded with the case behind the cover of his three top heirs, Mello, Matt and Near. Kira himself doesn't succumb to his defeat, but is instead rescued at the last moment by his nemesis lover who decides that a more apropos end to the God of the New World is not death--but redemption, in the form of a new case and a 5th so-called Kira, that L and Light must bring down together... or risk losing everything. Yes, there is actually a plot LOL Buuuut, this puppy has yaoi and pairing's aplenty. LxLight and MelloxMatt are technically the mains, but when you cut straight down to it, this is a story about Light and Mello and how they go from hate to need, from enemies to lovers, and maybe even something more...

and indeed there will be time --orginally by lawlietismyfavorite, but they have since deleted their account :’( (the fic is still on AO3, though!) (L x Light) (unfinished)

I love death note, okay? After the beautiful live action series came out (the recent japanese one not that fucking netflix shit), I felt the need to read some fanfic of the series again, and I found this. HOLY SHIT. It’s a soulmate AU that goes through the plot line of the manga/show and fuck. Light is Ace?? The writing is so good?? 

L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there’s Light.

Between the Lines by Klitch (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I’ve read this fic about 5 times and have accepted it as canon for this stupid show

The first time Yata saw him the kid was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria all alone with his bought lunch spread out before him, painstakingly picking out the vegetables and stacking them according to color and size.

Picking up the Pieces by SilverThunder (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I really like K. It’s a weird show, and it has copious faults. Maybe I just really like that the characters have so much potential, and this fic (as well as the one above) truly expands on that potential. This fic is an excellent exploration of these two character’s relationships, there’s just the right amount of angst. I’ve read it multiple times.

A whole year, gone from his head just like that - and how many memories could you fit in that time, anyway? It wasn’t a question Yata thought he’d ever have to ask, but with so many things changed between Saruhiko and himself, he wasn’t about to leave it alone.

It just sucked that the new world they’d built was still so easy to break.

to be first, to be best by kittebasu (chanyeol) (iwaoi) (complete)

haikyuu!! is odd for me because I don’t care about it anymore, but I really like this fic, and I’ve read it about 5 times. The characterization is on point, and the story is extremely well written.

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks“I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren’t I?”

Cat's Cradle by evocates (Fujioka Haruhi/Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki) (complete)

every new years eve, since 2011, my brother and I have watched Ouran High School Host Club. for the past 4 years, I have read and re-read this fic without fail in the days after

Kyouya had been able to see the red threads between people’s fingers since the day he was born. A song of fate, and the breaking of. Tamaki was a man who could never be predictable. Vague spoilers up to Chapter 63.

"Relationship Stuff" by arokitty, Ponderess (shinara) (complete)

This fic helped me realize I was asexual. It’s beautifully written.

"Relationship stuff" — that's what Yasutomo kept calling it on the occasions we discussed how things were going between us. He never failed to say it dismissively, as if it was an annoying plague he was forced to put up with. But even when I told him that he could opt out of it at any time, he did not pull back.

[lithromantic asexual Shinkai, aromantic asexual Arakita, quasiplatonic Shinara]

You Really Ought To Know by isengard (midotaka) (complete)

I really like this ship, and out of all the fics I’ve read of it, this is the one I adore the most (obviously enough to read it three times)

The Fates have an important message for Takao Kazunari.

A Gradual Fall by grassandcitrus (originshipping) (complete)

This maybe isn’t the best written fic, but it has a lot of heart, and for a ship that there is little content for, this fic served me well. It’s hard to write a realistic pokemon AU, but this feels grounded. For whatever reason, this ship still means a lot to me, so when I get in the mood for it, I’ll re-read this fic.

Meeting Wallace turned out to be a life changing event for Steven. He realizes that pretty early on. Other things, however, come with time.

The Punchline and the Resulting Silence by youremyqueen (thiefshipping) (complete)

from the author: “so i went ahead and wrote ygotas fic because, hell, if LK can record videos in which he vocally flirts with himself while playing video games, and then write gay porn about it, I sure as hell can write gay porn about it too.” yeah. 

In which Marik destroys many household appliances, Bakura naps doggedly, and they sometimes pretend - with very little success - not to be in love. (YGOTAS, thiefshipping. ridiculousness meets poeticism meets more ridiculousness.)

Six Days As Boyfriends by sitabethel (thiefshipping) (complete)

I just really like this ship and I have since I was a 14 don’t @me

In order to avoid talks of arranged marriage, Marik convinces Bakura to trick Ishizu into thinking that they're in love.

The Longest Job & The Smallest Favor by emanthony (hisoillu) (complete)

everyone in like march-ish of 2018: omg in the new update of hxh illumi says that he and hisoka are engaged!

me having watched 10 episodes of hxh 4 years ago and having a faint idea of the series: who?

me: *looks up fanfics of them*

me: *finds these two*

me: *proceeds to read them 15 times and gets obsessed with the ship*

Illumi is forced out of the Zoldyck estate and seeks a living arrangement with an associate. He's not altogether pleased with it.

Hisoka is a floor master at Heaven's Arena and has the unexpected pleasure of spending time with one of his oldest acquaintances. He doesn't share Illumi's frustrations.

///

A sequel to the Longest Job, another HisoIllu fanfiction.

Hisoka and Illumi have been living together for six months now without much trouble. But when Illumi's youngest brother goes missing, Hisoka manages to make the situation just a bit too complicated and much more fun.

Lessons in Etiquette by KnockKnockBadminton (promtis) (complete)

I knew nothing about this video game but for whatever reason decided to look up fanfic for it after seeing some fanart, and then because this one was so well written, I, again knowing absolutely knowing about this video game or the series it’s a part of, binged the entire 164k fic in like two days. I’ve also re-read it and convinced my brother to buy the video game as a result. He refers to them as the “leather boy band” and sends me updates about his play through lmao

Begins in high school. From Prompto's desire to befriend the sullen, bullied prince blooms a relationship even the Astrals themselves could not have foreseen. Basically fills in the gaps from Brotherhood to the fall of Insomnia. Some liberties taken.

say it like you mean it by spaceburgers (takuleo) (complete)

Ever since playing the video game, I loved the dynamic between these two characters, and this fic is a wonderfully crafted and fun to read AU staring both of them.

Wherein Leo is a transfer student, Takumi is overly competitive, and they're doing Romeo and Juliet (but not as the titular roles).

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Three

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 3/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

It was cloudy outside, which wasn’t unusual, and there was a mid-Spring chill in the air still. Yata threw a hoodie on over his T-shirt before they left the apartment, but Fushimi seemed more or less indifferent to the weather.

“Aren’t you cold like that?” Yata asked him as they turned off the walkway leading from the apartment complex onto the sidewalk.

“I don’t have the same body temperature as a human,” Fushimi responded blandly. He was walking with slightly hunched shoulders, hands in his pockets. It made him look even more like a regular person, which made the previous night feel even more like some kind of weird dream and not an actual thing that had happened and potentially fucked up Yata’s life. “Or a changeling, apparently.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata glanced around just to be sure, but nobody seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. Not that they’d be taken seriously even if someone heard… “I’m not that much different from a regular human. Just the aging thing and – ” He stopped there, abruptly unsure how much he wanted to give away.

Fushimi gave him a sidelong look. “And…?”

“Never mind.” Yata shook his head slightly. Better not to reveal all his secrets. If they had to stay together long enough, he’d find out pretty quick, but that didn’t mean there was any reason to tell him now. “I’m not that different, s’all.” He managed a bit of a smirk. “I don’t have horns or anything.”

The typical click of Fushimi’s tongue answered him. “I could fix that for you pretty easily.”

“Hah! No thanks.” Yata shook his head, smirk widening as he turned back. “Y’know, I’m not totally ignorant about this summoning business. I’m the one who summoned you, right? I know you can’t do anything to me that I don’t want.”

The expression on Fushimi’s face turned sour; Yata couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “You don’t like losing much, do ya?”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Fushimi muttered back. “Nobody enjoys losing.”

Yata’s spirits were buoyed enough by the small victory that he let that one pass. “Anyway, we got a few blocks to go to get to the station. Usually I’d use my skateboard or – ” He caught himself in time, and cleared his throat instead of continuing. “Well, you’re slowing me down, but whatever.”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Would you rather I followed you from the air?”

That… actually wouldn’t have been a bad idea, if it wasn’t shitty timing. “We’re in public, dumbass!” Yata reached up to scratch the back of his head, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Look, if you’re still around later, I’ll find some place to cast invisibility and – wait.” He squinted at Fushimi, realizing belatedly that he really had no idea how demon magic worked. “Can you make yourself invisible?”

“No. Unfortunately.” The answer came with another almost petulant click of Fushimi’s tongue; he frowned. “If I could, I’d have done it already and not have to deal with navigating your world in the first place.”

“Right, right.” Made sense; no point doing things the hard way if you didn’t have to. “Anyway, I can do it for you later and then you can race me if you really want.” He couldn’t help a smirk at that. “I’m pretty fast, though – just sayin’.”

Almost reluctantly, the corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up in response. There was a flicker of something like interest in his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Better believe it is!”

“Hm.” Without losing the tiny smirk, Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a small, amused huff. “We’ll see.”

The exchange was oddly enjoyable – and the prospect of a challenge had Yata feeling fired up. “All right!” He folded one hand into a fist, raising it with enthusiasm. “Let’s get this shit done and I’ll show you!”

“So noisy,” Fushimi muttered, but it lacked most of the frustration of earlier.

They walked in silence for a bit. It was an uneasy silence – like a temporary truce had been called – but it wasn’t horribly uncomfortable. Yata wasn’t sure if it was more of a relief not to have to defend himself from constant verbal attacks or… kind of a disappointment. For all he’d been an asshole, Fushimi was strangely fascinating. Or maybe not so strangely. He was a demon, after all – that was kinda cool, and it was something Yata didn’t know a heck of a lot about. If they’d been on better terms, he might’ve asked about what that was like.

Where did Fushimi live when he wasn’t being summoned? What did he do all the time? Did he have a family? Friends? Hobbies?

Yata stole a glance sideways at the man walking next to him. He looked perfectly normal – well-structured features, yeah, but not a vision of perfection by any stretch. His clothing, posture, habits, and general appearance were all that of any regular guy. He didn’t seem phased by the apartment or city. Did that mean he lived somewhere like this? Was the place demons lived another whole plane of existence, like the fae that Homra dealt with?

Fushimi seemed to notice he was being scrutinized, because he tilted his head slightly and met Yata’s gaze. “What?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked, caught off-guard, and shifted his eyes forward instead, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh. Nothing. My bad.”

He could almost hear the frown in Fushimi’s response. “If you say so.”

The feeling of eyes on him made his skin prickle in a way that wasn’t… totally unpleasant. Yata made an attempt to shrug it off, letting his hand drop and deliberately increasing his pace. “S’not much farther. C’mon.”

The subway station was crowded as usual – it wasn’t too bad with it being past noon on a weekday, but rush hour would start in an hour or so, and if they weren’t quick, it might be hell coming back. At the moment, the traffic was just a steady stream, which meant there’d be more than enough standing space in the trains, but having to pack in like sardines wasn’t fun, even if he could be sure Fushimi wouldn’t do anything if he got annoyed enough.

Yata frowned, considering it. I might end up having to show him after all…

“Are we going in?” Fushimi’s voice cut into his thoughts. He’d slowed to a stop when Yata had, and was studying him with that inscrutable expression.

“Uh – yeah.” Except… tickets. Which was no problem for Yata, since he had a transit pass, but… “Shit. I forgot I’ll have to buy you a ticket.” He pulled out his wallet, checking the meager supply of cash he kept on him.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Don’t bother.” Before Yata could react to that, he turned, stepping into the path of a random man. “Hey. You.”

What the hell is he doing? Yata stared after him, momentarily stunned into inaction.

The man who’d just been accosted blinked, openly startled. “Uh… me?”

“That’s right.” Fushimi indicated to the paper in his hand. “Did you just buy that ticket?”

“Uh…” The man lifted the ticket and looked at it, as if needing to confirm, and then squinting dubiously at Fushimi. “Yes?”

“Good. Which way is the ticket station?”

“Oh!” The more innocuous question seemed to relieve the man, who turned with much more confidence to wave in the direction he’d come from. “Just back there – you can’t miss ’em!”

“Thanks.” Stepping around the man – who seemed happy enough to scurry off without a backward glance, Fushimi made his way back towards Yata.

“What the hell was that ab – ?” The protest died in his throat as he watched Fushimi hold his hand in front of his body, fingers curling as a small square of paper appeared from thin air within them.

“Let’s go then,” Fushimi drawled, deftly turning the paper to reveal the ticket information printed on it.

Yata gaped at him, unable to help. “You – hold up – how’d you do that?”

Fushimi’s answering look was flat. “Magic.”

“I never saw magic like that.” He was used to components – incantations – runes – channeling… Not just making things appear out of thin air. Who did that?

Well, okay, demons – but still!

Fushimi sighed, sounding long-suffering. “You’re going to be tiresome about it, huh?” He held the ticket between two fingers and slid them apart slowly. The paper dissipated between them, leaving no trace behind. “It’s illusion. The ticket isn’t really here.” He brought his fingers back together, and the ticket manifested again between them. “Demonic magic is all about fooling the senses. Starting with mine and ending with everyone else around me.”

“Really?” It sounded so simple. Yata reached out automatically towards the ticket, and felt his fingers brush the paper. It felt real. “I can touch it, though.”

“I said your senses, not just your sight.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand. “Shouldn’t we go? We’re going to look suspicious just standing around here.”

That was true – a glance around showed a few people giving them curious looks. Yata frowned back at them, and they quickly looked away. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” he gave in grudgingly, tearing his eyes from the ticket in Fushimi’s hand to pull his pass out. “Let’s go.”

There was a small line-up at the ticket gate, so Yata took the opportunity to continue his line of inquiry in an undertone. “Hey. So why’d you have to stop that guy back there?”

“I needed to see what a ticket looked like.” Fushimi’s voice was almost a mumble – barely audible over the chatter around them. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to make one, would I?”

“Huh.” That kind of brought up an alarming thought, though. “Wait, you didn’t just copy his ticket, did you? Because – ”

“Keep your voice down, will you?” Fushimi cut him off sharply. He frowned. “Of course I didn’t – I’m not an idiot. The barcode is based on a time stamp.” His tone was flat and matter-of-fact. “Once I saw what his looked like, I calculated mine based on a different time stamp.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s unlikely that anyone here will have an exact duplicate, but even if that happens, I can pretend it didn’t scan properly and change it to a different one.”

Yata stared at him, astonished. “You figured that out in your head?”

Fushimi shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“Seriously? It’s fucking amazing!” The grin spreading on his face was almost involuntary. Damn, this was actually cool. Fushimi was a damn genius. “All you did was glance at his ticket, and you figured that all out in like – what – thirty seconds? Not even!” It was impressive as hell; he couldn’t help the admiration flooding through him. “That’s awesome!”

For a moment, Fushimi just blinked at him, clearly taken off-guard. It was almost charming. He recovered quickly, though, clicking his tongue and turning his gaze to the side. “Don’t be so loud,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, right.” Yata shrugged that off, stepping forward again as the line advanced. He eyed the gate. “Even if it’s an illusion, it’ll still go through okay, right?”

“If I can fool a person, I should be able to fool a machine,” Fushimi responded drily.

He ended up being right about that – the ticket scanned with no problems, allowing them to pass through to the platform and then the train without incident. Yata bit back the storm of questions raging around inside his brain while they boarded and rode the subway, waiting impatiently for them to be in the open where there was less chance of being overheard.

Unfortunately, the aisle where they stood side-by-side on the train car had them facing a group of four girls who looked like they should’ve been in school at that time of day. Yata did his best not to look at them, growing increasingly uncomfortable. Every time he happened to glance down at where they were sitting, at least one of them quickly averted her eyes and the whole group giggled nervously. It was a stressful experience.

“You’re not very good with women, are you?” Fushimi commented blandly as they – finally – stepped off the train.

“Shut up,” Yata grumbled in response, trying to shrug off the tension that had collected in that cramped space. He’d never managed to figure out where that discomfort came from – it was just something to do with the way it felt when women were looking at him. Like they could see through him, in a way that men couldn’t somehow. He was old enough now to know it was irrational, and he seriously was getting better at dealing with it, but his feelings didn’t always cooperate. “What’s it to you?”

The question was ignored. “Is that why you prefer men, maybe?”

“Not so loud!” Yata glanced around furtively as they pushed through the doors leading out of the station, but it didn’t seem like their conversation had attracted any attention. Good. He wasn’t particularly ashamed of his preferences – not any more, anyway – but it pissed him off when people gave him those judgy looks. It was none of their fucking business.

Actually, it wasn’t Fushimi’s business either, but hell if he was gonna let that stupid misconception go. “I like guys because I like guys. That’s it.” Automatically, he reached up to scratch at the back of his head, letting out a frustrated breath. “Dunno if I’d be bi or something if it wasn’t for the… women thing, but that’s how it is.”

He could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him. It was unnerving, like his thoughts were being read right through his skull. The part he hadn’t admitted – and wasn’t going to admit – was that there were things he’d found he liked in bed that he wasn’t likely to get from a woman, at least not without having to bring it up in a really awkward way. Things he didn’t really feel like doing without, honestly. It made any speculation on that subject moot, more or less; he could safely consider himself exclusively gay.

That was going way too personal for a conversation with someone he barely knew and didn’t even particularly like that much. Yata hastily changed the subject, picking up his pace just enough to lead them in the right direction onto the sidewalk outside. “Anyway, you said demon magic was illusions, right? Can you put illusions on anything? Like, make things look like something else, and all?”

“More or less.” Thankfully, Fushimi picked up the new topic without any fuss. “There are rules, though. I can only make things seem like they’ve changed – or that they exist in the first place, when they don’t already.” He held up the ticket again between his index and middle finger before giving them a wriggle and brushing off the illusion as if it were dust. “I can’t make things disappear if they exist in reality. But you know…” At that he smirked a little, glancing sideways at Yata again. “The things I make are real enough. An illusionary knife will still cut.”

Yata frowned back at him, shaking off the involuntary shudder that came with the statement. “You’re creepy as hell, y’know that?”

“Demon,” Fushimi drawled in response, without losing an inch of the smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yata grumbled, vaguely annoyed by the tone. “If your magic is all illusion, doesn’t that mean you could just make yourself look like a bird or something instead of going invisible when you fly?”

“I can’t use illusions on myself.” At that, the smirk did lessen, shifting toward a frown. “It’s awkward, but sometimes you can work around it. External things like clothing work, for example.”

“Huh.” The word was barely out of his mouth before an outrageous possibility entered his head. Yata turned to stare, vaguely alarmed. “Hey, wait – does that mean – those clothes you’re wearing now – ?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t exactly bring a wardrobe with me when I respond to a summon.”

Yata tripped over his own feet and just about fell, stumbling a few steps as he stared at Fushimi incredulously. “The hell? Doesn’t that mean you’re walking around” – He felt his cheeks flare up as outrage mounted within him, and lowered his voice, glancing around furtively for any possible eavesdroppers – “naked?”

“Would you like me to?” That smirk was edging up on Fushimi’s face again, slow and wicked. “It seemed like you were trying not to attract attention earlier, but it makes no difference to me.” His voice had shifted back to a mocking drawl, but there was an undercurrent of interest in the lazy gaze he shot Yata’s way. “By the way… that’s an awfully strong reaction for someone who can’t tell the difference. What are you imagining?”

The blurred image of a pale-skinned bare torso flashed to the front of Yata’s mind, and he nearly choked, the warmth on his face intensifying. “I-I’m not imagining anything!” Setting his mouth into a scowl to cover his embarrassment, he deliberately increased his pace to put a little space between them. “It’s weird to think about, okay? That’s all!”

“Is it?” The response was light and unaffected. “Because your emotions say otherwise.”

That was irritating enough that Yata shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole,” he gritted out, before turning back deliberately. “Can’t wait to get you out of my head and out of my life already!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, the drawl giving way to irritation. “You’re not the only one.”

There was no point justifying that with a response. Yata distracted himself by turning his attention to his surroundings, despite having come this way often enough to more or less know the place by heart. This was part of the city’s business district, so they were surrounded by high rise buildings. The streets were wide and well-kept, crowded with cars even at this hour, and the sidewalks were mostly occupied by professionally dressed men and women. There was a feeling of cool efficiency in the way that people moved briskly about, both the steady traffic of the road and the confident pace of the pedestrians on the walkways.

At one point he’d been uncomfortable coming to this part of town, but he was more or less used to it by now. Barely anyone gave him more than a half-interested glance, too absorbed in their own business to pay attention to random punks. The attitude used to piss him off when he figured they were all looking down on him, but a certain amount of experience made it pretty clear that most people just didn’t pay attention to anyone; it wasn’t really anything personal.

Hell, sometimes it made things easier for him. He couldn’t complain.

“Here.” Yata paused at the ramp leading up to their destination so that Fushimi could cross the couple of steps worth of distance between them. The building they were in front of was sandwiched between two high-rises, which made it look a bit odd, considering that it was a fairly modest height compared to some of the others in the area. The design was sleek and symmetrical, the majority of the exterior made up of thick-paned one-sided glass. There were two thin marble planters on either side of the double doors that the ramp led up to, with neatly cut plants growing in an elegant arrangement.

As usual, it was sickeningly perfect. “Let’s go.”

The inside of the building was no less orderly than the outside, the cleanly tiled floor shining in the light that poured in through the windows from all sides. There was a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that scattered tiny refractions across the room. On the wall opposite the entrance was an elevator and a listing of the floors and offices in the building – nothing particularly unusual.

Yata pressed the ‘up’ button without bothering to look, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching the elevator door idly as he waited.

“Is this really an office building?” Fushimi asked him; when Yata glanced at him, he was looking around the room, eyes lingering on the ornate light fixture above them.

“No idea.” Yata shrugged, turning away as the elevator pinged at them. “I only ever go to one place here.”

“Hm.” Fushimi didn’t appear satisfied with that answer, but he let the matter drop without comment and followed Yata onto the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Yata hit the emergency stop button, paused for a second to make sure the lighting on the numbers changed from white to red, and then hit a few of them in the sequence that Kusanagi had painstakingly drilled into his head. The panel beneath the number pad popped open and a thin keypad slid out, which he dutifully typed his personal access code onto.

There was a click, and the lighting changed from red to green. The keypad receded.

Into the following silence, Fushimi commented blandly, “’Yatagarasu’?”

Goddamn, he was good at catching things. Yata shot him a frown. “Nickname with my coven.” The reminder had his frown shifting even further into a scowl. “Dunno how this guy figured that out, but – ”

He was cut off as the elevator whirred to life, and the ground abruptly seemed to drop from beneath them as it began its rapid descent.

Even though he’d done this countless times already, it was still jarring. Yata grit his teeth, holding steady as the disorientation passed. Sometimes it felt like that pause between entering the code and the elevator starting to move was just for the building owner’s amusement value. Seriously wouldn’t put it past that guy…

Fushimi clicked his tongue; when Yata glanced at him, he looked irritated. “What is this, an amusement park attraction?”

Yata couldn't help but snort in response. “You’re telling me. I have to come here almost every day for this asshole. It’s not something you get used to.”

There was no real chance for a response, even if Fushimi would have offered it; the elevator slowed and came to a halt almost as jarringly as it had started up, sounding off an obnoxious ‘ding’ as it did. The doors slid open.

The hall they revealed was similar in elegance to the lobby above, but the decor was not as plain. The ceiling was vaulted, and both it and the walls were ornately carved with delicate lines and simple patterns, soft off-white with little traces of silver and gold. The floor was slick, polished grey, and the lighting, cool and faintly tinted with blue, seemed to reflect off of it and cause a myriad of colors to echo through the room.

Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, already a little irritated just from the sight of it. Show off. He started out from the elevator, deliberately letting his sneakers skid on the spotless floor.

At the end of the hall was a familiar set of double doors, large and black with golden handles and an elaborate knocker with the Roman numeral “four” engraved on its surface. Yata ignored the knocker, reaching for the handle without hesitance or ceremony – the guy behind the door knew they were there already, so why bother?

Behind him, Fushimi let out a strangely resigned-sounding sigh. “The fourth, huh? I thought so.”

Yata paused with his hand on the handle, turning to frown at him. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Fushimi shook his head. “Let’s just go in.”

For a moment, Yata squinted suspiciously at him – but hell, he wasn't going to get answers by standing there arguing with this guy. “Yeah, yeah.” He pressed down on the handle and opened the door, stepping in without waiting.

“Oh?” A deeper-toned voice greeted him with mildly. The man it belonged to sat opposite the door behind a broad wooden desk, which was surprisingly bare in contrast to the overdone ornate decor on the walls and flooring. The structure of the hall extended into this room as well, but somehow the light within felt like daylight seeping through open windows. Which was stupid, considering they were underground, but there it was. Several display stands with various items – most of which were probably rare, and way more than he could afford anyway – flanked the desk. On the surface in front of the man, a half-finished puzzle was laid out.

This was Yata’s current employer, a man he knew very little about beyond his name – Munakata – and the vague nature of his underground business. Which was... something to do with providing rare and valuable components for some of the more extensive spells Kusanagi cast on the Homra bar to keep their doings under wraps. Whatever. As long as Kusanagi vouched for him, Yata was fine with it too. And since he was getting paid well enough, the rest wasn’t too important.

The smile offered up in response to his entry held the usual annoying mix of knowing and amused. “How unusual that you would return today, Yatagarasu-kun.” Munakata rested his elbows on the desk, creating a bridge with his hands and somehow managing to avoid brushing aside the tiny puzzle pieces with his heavy, ceremonial black robes. “I seem to recall being informed that your intent was to have the day ‘off’.”

“Yeah, well, shit happened.” Yata scowled at him in response, even more irritated than usual by the formal speech. “And quit calling me that! It’s not my real name, goddamnit!”

“My apologies.” There wasn’t a trace of real apology in the statement. “I admit to being quite charmed by the fitting nature of the nickname. But that aside...” His gaze shifted away from Yata. “You appear to have gained a most interesting companion.”

“What ‘gain’?” Yata muttered, glancing back.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, cutting off any further complaint. His was looking past Yata to where Munakata sat, gaze wary. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

“Eh?” For a moment, Yata was too stunned to do more than look back and forth between them, caught completely off-guard. “Wait – what do you – ?”

Munakata leaned back in his seat, leaving his fingers interlaced in front of him. “This is merely a side venture, Fushimi-kun,” he responded, without acknowledging Yata's stuttered attempts at questioning them. “Please rest assured that I have no intention of neglecting my more pressing duties.”

Fushimi frowned at him. “And what do you call giving out a collection of our summoning circles to a civilian?”

“Yata-kun is a most competent witch – not to mention an exceptionally strong being.” Munakata's gaze flickered very briefly to Yata, and his smile widened marginally. “I had every confidence that he would not misuse such a gift.”

That earned another click of Fushimi’s tongue. “Your confidence is misplaced, then. This guy performed a summoning while drunk, and didn’t bother to include a timeframe.”

“Is that so?” Munakata leaned forward again, keen interest lighting in his gaze. “And you responded even so.” He tilted his head. “How very unlike you, Fushimi-kun.”

Fushimi caught his breath sharply; when Yata looked over at him, he caught only a brief glimpse of those blue-grey eyes widening before their owner was turning his gaze aside, scowling. “You didn’t have to say that much...”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Yata demanded – and then abruptly remembered there were more pressing questions. “And – wait – how the hell do you guys know each other? What are you even talking about, anyway?”

“Haven’t you guessed yet?” Fushimi muttered, sounding out of sorts. “This guy is my boss.”

“Huh?” Yata gaped at him for a moment, then spun around again. “Wait, wait, wait…” He thrust a finger in front of him, pointing directly at Munakata. “You’re telling me this guy’s a fucking demon? Like, a demon lord, even?”

“Lord of the fourth region of hell’s influence.” Fushimi's tone was drawling, almost bored. “Not that it means as much as you'd think.” He looked up again to fix Munakata with a steady gaze, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “But he does have jurisdiction over any contracts formed in my sector.”

The word ‘contracts’ somehow managed to snap him out of his shock. Yata lowered his finger, directing his own glare at Munakata, who smiled pleasantly in return. “So you’re the guy who can get us out of this.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re the fucker who got me into this, so you’d better fix it!”

“A most unjust accusation, Yata-kun.” Munakata seemed unbothered by the attention. “I merely gifted you with the book – there was no coercion on my part regarding how you chose to make use of it.” He tipped his head towards his interlaced fingers, glasses catching the light in a way that made them seem to glitter. “However, if you are in need of my assistance, I can certainly provide it – in exchange for an appropriate price, of course.”

This fucking guy... Yata’s hands curled into fists at his side, scowl deepening. “‘Appropriate price’, my ass, you – !”

“What price?” Fushimi cut him off, voice sharp and dripping with suspicion.

Munakata made a small noise of approval. “How practical of you to ask, Fushimi-kun.” He finally unclasped his hands, reaching down to open one of the drawers of his desk. “As it happens, I do have a task that will suitably employee both of your unique talents.” When he straightened again, the hand he extended toward them held two small stones.

They looked like ordinary stones, Yata noted, squinting suspiciously at them. Both were small and oval-shaped with smooth surfaces. One was orange and crystaline, with sharp angles and tiny specs of contrasting shades within, like ashes rising from a flame. The other was soft blue with splintering white highlights, looking as though a blizzard had been frozen and contained within.

“Sunstone and moonstone,” Munakata identified them without being asked. “In reality, two different offshoots of a mineral known as feldspar. Their potency for use in magic is almost entirely dependent on the amount and quality of sunlight or moonlight they have absorbed.” He paused very briefly, and then added, “At present, that potency rests at zero.”

“So? You want us to charge ’em?” That didn't sound difficult. Yata frowned in response. “Gotta be more to it than that...”

“Most perceptive of you, Yata-kun.” Munakata set the stones delicately on his desk in front of the half-finished puzzle. “In point of fact, an ordinary charge would not be sufficient for the purpose I intend to turn these to.”

Fushimi let out a short sigh. “Is it necessary to be so cryptic?”

“My apologies. The intended purpose need not concern you.” Munakata leaned back in his seat, this time crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of him. “Yata-kun, your aspect is the sun – and Fushimi-kun’s, the moon. That makes the two of you ideal for this... unusual venture.” Without waiting for comments or questions, he went on. “In this instance, I need to have the moonstone charged with sunlight and the sunstone charged with moonlight.” He studied them both intently. “Further, the charges need to be exceptionally strong – and completed within a lunar cycle of one another.”

“Huh?” Yata blurted, even as he heard Fushimi’s flat, “What,” from beside him. He stared at his employer, flabbergasted.

To charge the stones in the opposite element... What the hell’s the point? Also, because of the incompatibility, it was going to be hard to get a decent charge – much less an ‘exceptionally strong’ one. And how were those charges going to last long enough to be of any goddamn use? The stones wouldn’t hold them for all that long.

In short, none of it made any damn sense at all.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Fushimi echoed his thought out loud, an edge of thinly contained impatience in his voice. He frowned suspiciously at Munakata. “What are you up to, Captain?”

Munakata returned the frown with an untroubled smile. “Have faith, Fushimi-kun – my actions will surely line up with the logical order in time, as always.” He glanced at Yata, and made a small, self-satisfied hum. “It would be wise if Yata-kun were to take charge of the moonstone and you the sunstone, for now. I can sense the presence of twelve points in the city ideal for the collection of either moonlight or sunlight – if you can endeavor to locate each one and determine its properties, I have confidence in your ability to collect a full charge in each stone before long.” His gaze lingered almost uncomfortably. “Yata-kun has an uncanny knack for determining precisely when exposure would hinder rather than help; I suggest you make use of that.”

The unexpected compliment brought an odd blend of disgruntled acknowledgement and reluctant pride; Yata stared back at him, nonplussed and not sure how to respond. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly.

Instinct, again – he’d always been good at finding just the right quantity and quality of what he needed, without bothering with measurements or anything. Kusanagi had gotten him to charge things in the past, though Yata more often made use of that talent in the kitchen where he did most of his casting.

It was something that rarely failed him – except when it came to his love life. And demon summoning circles, apparently.

The reminder fired up his determination. Yata reached out and snatched the blue stone from the table, letting out a frustrated ‘ch’ as he did. “Whatever. I’ll do what it takes to get this asshole out of my goddamn life. The sooner the better!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue as well, extending his hand to pluck the orange stone with far less enthusiasm. “What a troublesome job.”

Munakata chucked. “I have every confidence in you both.”

That wasn’t even worth answering. Yata snorted, pocketing his stone and turning to head for the door. “This doesn't change the fact that I’m off today,” he said irritably, reaching for the handle. “I’m not doing any deliveries until tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Munakata's response was perfectly calm and even. “I had no intention of allowing these... unusual circumstances... to interfere with our regular business arrangement.”

Naturally he wouldn't. Yata huffed a frustrated breath, swinging the door open with force and stalking through it, leaving Fushimi to close it behind them.

“Take care,” Munakata's voice followed them, and then the door shut firmly, cutting off any remaining connection.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Don’t Look Down DJ AU Chapter 11 (Read from beginning Here or Here) Pairing: Sarumi Rating: M Word Count:  7,016 AO3 Summary: When Fushimi Saruhiko is dragged to a club by some of his co-workers, he refuses to dance, earning him the attention of the lively, up-and-coming DJ, Yata Misaki. After a heated argument, the boys go their separate ways, never expecting to meet again. Little do they know their first meeting is only the beginning of their now intertwined lives.

Full Fic Under Cut. Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing!

Misaki tapped at the soundboard, his fingers twitching against the knobs. He still hadn't quite decided how he wanted to add to Mikoto's song, though they had a meeting tomorrow. After Saruhiko had left, they had decided Totsuka would sing the entire song, and while Misaki was ecstatic to be working with him and Mikoto, he was feeling a bit lost without Saruhiko. Stupid idiot.

He had tried to plan out the way he was going to execute his ideas for the song, but every time he thought about anything, it was Saruhiko's voice he heard buried in the track. It was frustrating, especially since he and Saruhiko hadn't talked since the fight in the office.

A week had gone by, and Misaki wasn't sure how to go about texting him. It was usually him who initiated things, which currently was adding to his frustrations. Saruhiko liked him, right? Misaki figured that was a fair assumption based on the activities they had participated in together. Hell, Saruhiko had initiated a few kisses, and he'd been the one to ask Misaki back to his place the other night after the concert.

He let out a large groan, and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Idiot Saruhiko. Picking up his phone, Misaki twirled it around in his palm. He probably wouldn't answer even if Misaki did text him.

The fight hadn't made much sense. Saruhiko said he didn't want to sing, but then he got angry when Misaki had agreed to produce a song with Mikoto. He knew how long Misaki had been waiting for an opportunity like this, how much it meant to him. Saruhiko, once again, was the most confusing person Misaki had ever dealt with.

The worst part was how much it was actually affecting him. This moment should've been perfect, everything Misaki wanted and more. Even if Saruhiko didn't want to sing, he could've at least been supportive, or helped or...

Running his hand down his face, Misaki trilled his lips. He supposed Saruhiko didn't owe him anything. If anyone owed, it was Misaki. Saruhiko had done so much for him, and Misaki knew he hadn't done much but bug the guy. Still, he had somehow gotten the impression Saruhiko enjoyed the time they had spent together. Maybe he hadn't.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto asked, peering inside of Misaki's room.

"Eh? Kamamoto?" he replied, whipping his head around to stare at his roommate.

"You okay? You were making all sorts of weird groaning noises..." Kamamoto muttered.

"Was I?" Misaki blushed, twisting the cord of his headphones around his fingertip.

"Are you stuck on the song again?" he asked, placing the mug full of tea down in front of him.

Misaki nodded. "I am. I feel like it should be easy! I mean I should be freaking thrilled to be writing a song with Mikoto, and it should feel amazing!" Misaki paused, staring at the tea in the mug in front of him.

"But..." Kamamoto asked, urging him to continue.

"But...I feel really stuck. I wish Saruhiko was..." he trailed off, blushing even harder.

"The one singing for you?" Kamamoto finished, deciding to piece things through himself.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, Totsuka is amazing, and of course I'm so excited to be working with both of them."

"But it doesn't feel the same as when you and Fushimi worked together?" Kamamoto asked, and Misaki shook his head.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he stood up angrily. "I mean who the hell needs that asshole! He was such a fuckin' pain you know?!" Misaki snapped and plopped back down in the chair.

Kamamoto raised an eyebrow at Misaki who rolled his eyes. He hated when Kamamoto somehow knew everything about everything. He normally kept to himself, but when he did have something to say, it always seemed to be...stupidly intuitive. It was worse that the idiot wasn't actually saying anything now.

He ran his finger along the edge of the cup as he puffed out his cheeks. "I have my meeting with Mikoto tomorrow, and we're going to work on tweaking the song," Misaki shrugged. "I know it's going to sound awesome. I mean it's Mikoto-san...and Totsuka. It's just...Saruhiko and I have such a connection."

"Hm. Do you feel like what you're working on has something missing or somethin'?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki bit his lip. "I guess." He groaned loudly again, and ruffled his hair. "I wish he could've just...said yes or whatever."

"I'm sure whatever you come up with will be awesome! You're always awesome!" he smiled. "Maybe you're thinking about it too much?" Kamamoto suggested.

"Yeah, yeah," Misaki grunted, waving him away. "I gotta get back to it," he mumbled, placing the headphones over his ears. Kamamoto was always stupidly positive about stuff. It was nice sometimes, but occasionally Misaki had nothing to say in response, especially when he had too much to think about.

"Okay, Yata-san," Kamamoto said quietly, closing the door behind him, though Misaki wasn't paying anymore attention to him.

Pursing his lips, he listened to the track once more, and began to make some tweaks and additions. Maybe he was thinking about it too much. Normally when he wrote music he had fun with it, or was inspired by something. However, even though Mikoto was the one who had gotten him so hype about music in general, he was struggling. Maybe he was too nervous? If Saruhiko had been here, it would've been a hell of a lot easier to write something with his voice.

He paused, tapping his keyboard as he went back and listened to their first, and now only, track together. Saruhiko's voice was so smooth, sexy even, though that thought did make Misaki blush. Misaki sighed. It had been perfect.

Pausing the track, he moved back to the new one, once again imagining how Saruhiko would sound on it. Though he supposed that wasn't all that bad. If he could hear Saruhiko on it, he could write it as though he had Saruhiko in mind, and then someone else would sing it. Nodding once to himself, he felt determination flow through his veins as he began to listen once again. He didn't need Saruhiko to be good. If Saruhiko really hated doing music so much, Misaki would move on without him.

~~

"We're thrilled to have you here." Hisui Nagare's smile was unnerving for a reason Saruhiko couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Mmm Nagare-san couldn't stop speaking of you after he saw you perform." An older man spoke up, and Saruhiko quirked his eyebrow, confused by who this man was supposed to be.

"Ah, meet my manager, Iwafune-san," Nagare said, nodding his head towards the older man.

"Yes, nice to meet you, Fushimi Saruhiko," he said, bowing his head. "I am looking forward to seeing what you can do. Of course, Yukari-san is not going to be very happy to find out you've replaced him," Iwafune chided, though Nagare simply shrugged, wheeling himself to the mixing board.

"Yukari-san will survive just fine. Plenty of DJs work with different vocalists," Nagare scoffed. "You know I'm always looking to change my sound. I want my sound to mold and change with the times and myself. I've grown as a musician, and I will still be using Yukari-san for this upcoming album. However, Fushimi-san is incredibly talented, and I would like to use him for this song," he scoffed.

"Of course, of course," Iwafune chuckled, waving his hand back and forth. "We're always looking for new talent, but Yukari does get quite defensive," he said. Both men laughed this time, and Saruhiko rolled his eyes.

He was anxious to get on with the recording. Saruhiko still wasn't completely comfortable with singing in front of others, and as much as he hated to admit it, this was the first time he'd be doing something like this without Misaki.

Perhaps in his anger he had been far too hasty. He'd called Nagare on a whim, wanting to frustrate Misaki, and what better way to do so than to record with a rival DJ. His plan had been genius, until he realized he'd actually have to record in front of someone else. He could barely sing in front of Misaki, and he'd only been able to perform at that concert because he'd felt Misaki's radiating energy behind him. Could he really do something like this without him?

Saruhiko wasn't a musician, and had never wanted to do all the things Misaki had made him do, but the truth was he'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything he'd done with Misaki, no matter how reluctant he had been about it. But part of the reason he had come to enjoy the experience was because Misaki had always been there. The whole journey Misaki had been there. He'd held his hand, leading him through the confusing emotions singing had brought up for him. He'd pushed Saruhiko's back, even when he had dug his heels in, and Misaki had always loved what Saruhiko did.

But then Misaki had ruined it. Saruhiko should've expected something like this to happen. As amazing as Misaki had been for him these past few months, Saruhiko knew he should never have expected it to stick around. Happiness, contentment, they were emotions which often were fleeting around Saruhiko. That's what Saruhiko should've expected, Misaki never would've lasted.

Though Saruhiko supposed Misaki hadn't exactly tossed him aside completely. He had asked him to help with that shitty song, something Saruhiko wanted nothing to do with. Beside, it had been smarter to leave now, before Misaki kicked him to the curb. It would only be a matter of time. Mikoto had noticed Misaki, which in the end, was all Misaki had wanted, Saruhiko decided.

Misaki had dreams, and he wanted nothing more than to be famous for his music. He was so hungry for success, he was willing to give up the sound which had made him so unique. A sound which Saruhiko had fallen in love with, a sound which had brought him and Misaki together. That was the kind of music Saruhiko wanted to sing—Misaki's, the sound which had made him feel confident and happy, if only for a moment.

How could Misaki have thrown all that away? Just for the chance to sing with his stupid idol? Saruhiko couldn't comprehend it, no other person had mattered so much to him. The only person who had even come close was Misaki himself, and Saruhiko couldn't watch as Misaki threw away everything Saruhiko had loved about him, simply to please that idiot Suoh Mikoto.

Frowning, Saruhiko folded his arms, trying to focus on the conversation happening between Nagare and Iwafune. They were still going on about this Yukari guy, and Saruhiko had no desire to insert himself into the talk. However, he wanted to stop thinking about Misaki. The whole point of this was to forget Misaki, move on without him, and possibly get back at him a little in the process.

"Alright," Nagare said, smiling Saruhiko's way. "I'm sure we've bored you enough with this talk of people you nothing of. Let's get you in the booth and get you set up?"

"Right," Saruhiko said, pushing himself out of the chair.

Iwafune held the door open, following Saruhiko inside as he began to adjust the mic to Saruhiko's height. He handed Saruhiko a pair of headphones, and stepped out of the booth, closing the door behind him.

Saruhiko took a deep breath, the padded walls feeling as though they were constricting around him. The booth was tiny, but it felt as though it was getting smaller and smaller the longer he let his thoughts race. Why had he done this? He should've stuck with his original plan, and never sang again. Never before had he so desperately wished to be at his stupid desk at his stupid computer job. He even missed some of the idiots who bugged him on a regular basis.

The truth was, he'd wanted to sing again, but he also hadn't wanted to do so without Misaki, and glancing at Nagare through the tiny glass window only made him more anxious.

And yet, that fact made him angry, and a battle began to rage in his thoughts. Misaki had no problem making music without him. He could imagine Misaki was probably sitting around right now, working on the song with Mikoto excitedly, being all proud of working with his idol, even if it was a shit song. So really, Saruhiko should have no problem doing this. He'd done it before, he'd moved past his fear. Even without Misaki, he could do this, even if it felt so damn wrong.

"Alright Fushimi-san!" Nagare's voice boomed in the headphones, and Saruhiko's body twitched, shocked out of his thoughts. "We're going to play you the song, and you can listen to it a few times. I've got my voice in there right now temporarily, so sing along with me, and when you feel you're ready we'll play with things. You can change whatever you like, complete musical freedom is yours," Nagare smiled.

Saruhiko simply nodded, listening as the song began to play in his headphones. Nagare wasn't a terrible singer himself, and the song was interesting. Saruhiko could recall Misaki talking about Nagare's music style, saying it was a more intense style of dance music, closer to dubstep. At the time, Saruhiko hadn't really understood what Misaki had meant, but listening now, he could get an idea. The sound was completely different from Misaki's. It was heavy, and full of a mesh of beats and tempos. There were moments where the song picked up, as though it was building to something, but instead slowed down. The electronic sounds were almost overwhelming, and it was certainly...unique, and Saruhiko wasn't sure if it was a song he would listen to, or even like.

But he wasn't doing this because he liked Nagare's music.

The song played on repeat a few more times, Saruhiko awkwardly working to pick up the changing rhythms.

"Do you have any thoughts, Fushimi-san?" Nagare asked, after Saruhiko asked to listen to the track once more.

"...It has a lot of unique...rhythms," Saruhiko muttered into the mic, not wanting to insult Nagare. His plan wouldn't work if the man kicked him out of the booth before he even sang a note.

"Good," he said. "Does it feel uncomfortable?" he asked, and Saruhiko met his gaze. His eyes held a playfulness Saruhiko didn't quite understand, must be some sort of musician quirk. He'd seen something similar in Misaki's gaze many times, but Misaki had always seemed more pure, and excited. Nagare on the other hand, looked positively pleased by his discovery of this 'unique' music style.

"...Yes," Saruhiko said bluntly.

"Good!" Nagare repeated. "As I mentioned before, I want to shape and mold the music world. Bring us into a new era of music, and I believe these kinds of tracks will do that. Art isn't supposed to be repetitive and comfortable," he explained.

Saruhiko couldn't exactly argue with that, thinking back on how much he'd hated Mikoto's repetitive, boring song.

"Do you want to try something?" Nagare asked. "No rush, you can have as much time as you please."

Staring at the lyrics in front of him, Saruhiko pursed his lips. The moment he started to sing, there was no going back from this plan. Misaki would eventually hear this song, and he'd know what Saruhiko had done.

He thought momentarily about Mikoto's song again, and he knew he'd be hearing that too, just as much as Misaki would hear this one.

"I'll try," Saruhiko replied.

"Marvelous," Nagare said. "I'll be cutting out my vocals and you can do as you please."

Saruhiko heard the music start up again, and he waited for his cue, knowing he'd have to start. Nagare had already heard him sing at the concert, which is why he was here in the first place, so Saruhiko knew he'd have to get over his fear.

He opened his mouth, letting his mind go blank as Nagare's strange lyrics flowed from his voice. Singing through the song became almost a trance as he added runs and improvisations Nagare hadn't included. He didn't love how he sounded, but he kept going, wanting to push through the track. He kept his mind focused, staring at the page in front of him, and when the song ended, Saruhiko blinked, forgetting he had been singing at all.

Clapping came from the other side of the booth, snapping Saruhiko from his daze. Glancing out the window, he saw both Iwafune and Nagare clapping their hands excitedly. "That was absolutely perfect, Fushimi-san. I knew you'd be the best pick for this song," he smirked.

"...Thanks..." Saruhiko replied.

"It was brilliant! I want to do a few pick ups, maybe have you sing through it a few more times so we have different takes to work with. How does that sound?" Nagare asked.

"Right. Sure," Saruhiko said. It certainly hadn't felt brilliant. When he had sang with Misaki it had ignited a flame inside his blood, a rush he couldn't replicate with this type of song even if he had wanted to. His singing felt flat, emotionless, as though he were singing above the track, not in it, letting the sound wash over his body completely.

He wasn't sure why he had expected it to be the same. Nagare was nothing like Misaki, nothing at all, and it wasn't as though Saruhiko had actually agreed to this because he wanted to sing. His actions had been completely spiteful.

"Let's continue, we'll start from the top," Nagare said, turning the music on once again.

Even as regret began to settle into his chest, Saruhiko knew there was no turning back now.

~~

"Alright team, tell me you've got something," Kusanagi stated. "I'm bumping up this single's release date by a week."

A week? Misaki felt his face pale. His part of the song was finished, or so he thought. He had yet to play it for the Homra group, but Kamamoto had said it felt finished to him, and Misaki was happy with the final product. However, he had no idea if Mikoto and the others would approve what he had done.

"A week?" Totsuka said, speaking Misaki's thoughts out loud. He tilted his head in confusion, tapping his fingers on the table. "But we haven't even recorded the song yet Izumo~" Totsuka whined.

"Mm why?" Mikoto grunted, his expression staying the same, though Misaki felt a hint of annoyance coming from his aura.

"I heard Nagare plans on releasing a new track, something unique and crazy."

"Nothing new..." Mikoto grumbled.

"That's the thing though, if it is something new that gains traction with fans...it could be a problem for our track. Right now, more relaxed dance music is in style thanks to you Mikoto," Kusanagi explained. "The last thing we want is Nagare's erupting electrical style to take over. I doubt you want to make music like that, Mikoto."

The red haired male let out a long sigh, closing his eyes.

"Exactly. So, Yata-san, show us what you got."

Misaki swallowed, and quickly nodded, placing his laptop on the table. "I had...a few ideas to add to the track, as well as the lines where Totsuka-san would sing," Misaki said. "I hope you guys uh...like it."

"Stop being so nervous," Mikoto said, placing a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "We wouldn't have given it to ya' if we thought you'd suck."

Blushing, Misaki glanced at Mikoto's hand on his shoulder. "R-Right.." he nodded his head quickly, his hat falling down over his eyes. Clearing his throat, he pushed it back and opened his laptop, pushing play on the track.

He kept his eyes down, staring at the specks on the table, trying his best to focus on anything but their faces. He couldn't look at their reactions, he was far too terrified.

"Hm," Mikoto grunted, and Misaki jerked his head around to stare at the noise. He was nodding his head up and down ever so slightly.

"Wow..." Totsuka whispered as the end of the track faded out. "That...was awesome!" he cheered.

"You made it better," Mikoto said flatly.

"R-Really?!" Misaki said, standing up as he slammed his hands on the desk. Blushing, he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. "S-Sorry...I'm just happy you like it. I, uh, spent a lot of time perfecting it, I didn't want to ruin what you already had."

"You made it better," Mikoto repeated, nodding his head again.

"You did!" Totsuka said leaning forward. "I am so excited to be singing this song! Your friend is really missing out," he teased.

Misaki froze. "R-Right..." he chuckled awkwardly.

Saruhiko was missing out. This was supposed to be an amazing experience for both of them, for all of them. As much as he had struggled through the song thinking about Saruhiko, Misaki was still a little shocked Saruhiko had completely abandoned him like that. He could imagine Saruhiko sitting at his computer desk, looking grouchy, working on new tech stuff Misaki didn't understand at all. He could've been here, they should've both been here together, but Saruhiko was so damn stubborn. Misaki really had hoped Saruhiko would change his mind and sing with him. He'd come so far, overcoming all the frustrations he'd felt with music, but in the end, he'd gone back to his boring old job. Swallowing, he let the air empty out of his lungs, he'd promised himself he wouldn't waste anymore time worrying about Saruhiko. He'd been the ass, not Misaki...it was Saruhiko's fault he wasn't here.

"Fantastic! Let's get you guys over to the studio then!" Kusanagi said, clapping his hands together.

"Eh? Right now?" Misaki asked, glancing at Totsuka and Mikoto, both looking completely un-phased.

"Yes, right now. Do you have other plans?" Kusanagi asked, raising his eyebrow, as he turned to head out of the office, quickly followed by Mikoto.

Misaki quickly shook his head, standing up immediately to follow after them. "Don't worry," Totsuka chuckled, placing his hand on Misaki's shoulder. "They do this," he said. "Kusanagi is very...prepared. He usually likes what King does, so he sets up recording sessions early. And King just goes with the flow."

"Yeah, I'm...slowly catching on," Misaki chuckled.

They arrived at the studio barely 15 minutes later, and Totsuka was quick to hop in the booth. It was such a contrast to Saruhiko who Misaki had to practically pushed into the booth, desperate for him to just sing.

"So...how do you guys go about doing this?" Misaki asked, taking his seat next to Mikoto in front of the soundboard.

"Just leave it to Tatara," Mikoto said waving his hand. "I make the music, he makes the vocals. Don't worry."

Winking, Totsuka leaned over, giving them a thumbs up through the glass window which peered into the booth.

"Yeah, okay," Misaki nodded.

"He's...excited," Mikoto said, a small chuckle escaping his lips for a moment. "He usually gets like this about recording new shit," Mikoto snorted.

"That's...cool he's so passionate about your music though," Misaki said quietly.

"Mmm..." Mikoto glanced towards him. "Yeah. It's good to find a singer who can bring your music to life, and is excited about it."

Biting down on his lip, Misaki nodded. "Yeah, it always feels really good to have a singer who fits your stuff really well."

"Yeah. Don't worry Tatara is gonna sound great," Mikoto said, keeping his gaze fixated on the excited blond in the booth.

"O-Oh! I know...Uh...sorry, I wasn't trying to make it seem like Totsuka-san would do a bad job! He's incredible...one of the best singers I know! I'm...I'm so lucky to get to collab with him!"

"Yata...I know," Mikoto snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "But I can tell you miss your friend. Talk to him again."

"What?! No way! This is the best opportunity I've had and Saruhiko gave it up! He's the one who walked away from me. If anyone is going to talk to anyone, he's gotta talk to me!" Misaki snapped.

"Alright," Mikoto shrugged.

Slouching down in his chair, Misaki sighed. He was such an idiot, getting all worked up about Saruhiko like that in front of Mikoto. How uncool! Though, looking at Mikoto, he didn't look too upset, actually he didn't look like he cared at all.

They had Totsuka listen to the track a few times, only two, before he was ready to try something. Totsuka's voice was pure, clean and bubbly, sounding excited and smooth over the track. It was a nice sound, and it was actually better than Misaki had expected it to be. He loved Totsuka's voice, but no matter how hard he had tried, he'd imagined Saruhiko's voice when he had been working on the lyrics. Still, listening to Totsuka now, Misaki did like how he sounded. It added to the meshing of both his and Mikoto's styles.

"That was great Tatara," Mikoto said. "Let's go again."

"Amazing!" Misaki cheered, giving him the thumbs up. It was incredible watching how fast Totsuka worked, and Misaki assumed this was how actual professional singers did things. Totsuka was so comfortable behind the mic, it looked as though everything in the booth, everything in the song belonged to him and only him. Admittedly, it was nice not having to push and fight with his singer to actual sing.

And yet...

Misaki stared into the booth, watching Totsuka sing with such beautiful passion over the track. It should've been perfect, it should've been everything he'd dreamed of. Misaki had been waiting for this moment for so long, collaborating with the two people he respected the most in this industry.

And yet...

The ghost of Saruhiko's voice in the track haunted Misaki. It had never been there of course, but Misaki felt like it had, and though Totsuka's voice was beautiful and full of emotion, Misaki missed how raw Saruhiko's vocals were, how unpolished everything was about him.

"Perfect," Kusanagi says. "You guys are going to blow Nagare's track out of the water," he chuckled, listening to a rough playback of Totsuka's vocals over the song.

"Of course we are!" Misaki cheered. Kusanagi was right. Totsuka sounded amazing, and the song sounded amazing. Yata Misaki had collaborated with Totsuka Tatara and Suoh Mikoto, and it was a dream come true. Actually he was kind of tempted to pinch himself to make sure this had actually happened. There was no point in focusing on stupid Saruhiko, not when he was experiencing one of the greatest moments of his life!

~~

Saruhiko had never felt so damn relieved to sit at his desk that Monday. He'd been gone for a few days due to the recording and the concert, and he was so happy that finally, finally things were back to normal.

Quiet. But normal.

And really...wasn't quiet what he wanted?

He glanced at his phone, the screen black and unchanging. He tapped the button on the screen, making it light up with the time. No new messages. He wasn't sure why he expected anything. Nagare had no reason to contact him, and Misaki sure as hell wasn't going to after the damn fight they'd had.

Minus Munakata, none of his coworkers had come to the concert either, so none of them were bugging him about it, or trying to get details, and it was...nice. He didn't want attention from them or anyone for that matter.

"Ah, good morning Fushimi-kun!" Of course his silence was extremely short lived.

"Mmm..." he grunted, keeping his face glued to the screen. Since Munakata had been quiet about going to the concert, Saruhiko could only hope he'd stay that way, especially around the others at work. There was a tiny itch Saruhiko had, wanting to ask Munakata how exactly he knew Suoh Mikoto, but he didn't want to talk about that guy, nor did he want to bring up stuff with the concert.

"Do you think you could join me in my office for a moment? I have something I'd like to discuss with you," Munakata said with a smile.

"...can it wait?" Saruhiko grunted. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Are you?" Munakata smiled, peering over the cubicle. "It looks to me as if you're simply staring at your home screen currently."

Flaring his nostrils, Saruhiko let out a huff of breath. "Fine," he growled. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Marvelous!" Munakata said, and left him there.

Saruhiko groaned. What the hell could Munakata possibly want to talk about? Sure, he'd taken a few more days off than normal recently, but he rarely took days off, and it wasn't as though he was behind in his work. Everything he'd been doing recently had been on time, and well done, which was more than he could say for people like Hidaka and Doumyouji.

Flicking his computer screen off, he made his way to Munakata's office, knocking once before he entered.

"Good to see you today, Fushimi-kun. The office misses you when you're not here," Munakata said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his head on his hands.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He was certain they didn't miss him so much as they missed him picking up their slack and getting extra work done when he stayed later than all of them. "I'm sure," he mumbled.

"I am being serious," Munakata said. "Doumyouji-kun and Hidaka-kun are quite lost without you, and Akiyama-kun, my most proficient worker besides you seems to be slacking without you around as much."

"Sir," Saruhiko began, his eyebrow twitching. "Frankly, I don't see how this is my problem."

"Oh, it is not, I assure you. I simply wanted you to know how...well-liked you are here. This being said, I wanted to speak to you about your future at this company."

"My future?" Saruhiko retorted quickly.

"Yes, your future. As you now know, I am...somewhat close with Suoh Mikoto. A story for another day perhaps," Munakata began, and Saruhiko was damn grateful Munakata had decided to save his breath. "Anyway, I was told you turned down the chance to collaborate with him and your friend, Yata Misaki was it?" Munakata inquired. "I was...curious as to why."

Saruhiko's eyebrow twitched again. How the hell did Munakata find this shit out? Sure, he was friends with Suoh Mikoto, but then again, this was so like him, sticking his nose into Saruhiko's business when it didn't actually belong there.

"What does this have to do with my future here at this company?" Saruhiko grunted.

Munakata chuckled. "I suppose it doesn't affect much if you keep rejecting these opportunities. But I was surprised to hear you had. With your singing voice, Fushimi-kun, I'm sure collaborating with Yata-kun more would be quite good for you."

Clicking his tongue louder, it took every restraint Saruhiko had to not snap at Munakata for not minding his own business.

"I thought perhaps you'd prefer to pursue singing as a career, instead of working here. You're very intelligent, and losing you as an employee would be a blow to us of course. However, Fushimi-kun...I do know you quite well at this point, and I don't wish for you to feel obligated to stay."

Blinking, Saruhiko stared at Munakata for a moment, trying to process his thoughts. Munakata wasn't exactly wrong. Saruhiko did owe his adult life to Munakata. Without this job, without Munakata, he never would've been able to afford living on his own. And admittedly, he didn't hate the job. The people were frustrating sure, but fixing computers was interesting, and challenging every so often. He'd never really thought about how his life would be if he wasn't doing this. He'd never thought he would ever consider leaving. He liked where he was, and before Misaki came and threw off all of his plans, he'd never imagine doing anything else.

None of it mattered however. Munakata was wrong. He didn't imagine himself as a singer, and he'd said no to any further collaborations with Misaki, and he wasn't ever going to work with Nagare again either. He was done with singing, it was over.

"Mmm," Saruhiko grunted. "I won't be doing anymore singing anytime soon. I didn't reject the opportunity because of this job," he mumbled.

"I didn't think so," Munakata chuckled. "It's not my business to ask any more details, but I know you and Yata-kun had a fight." Munakata paused, but Saruhiko said nothing in response, staying silent. There was no point in talking about this anymore, Saruhiko decided. He wasn't going to sing, Misaki was off enjoying his new life as signed DJ, and Saruhiko simply wanted to fade into an unknown existence again.

"Well," Munakata sighed. "I won't keep you from your work," he said, and Saruhiko bowed his head, turning to leave. "But one more thing, Fushimi-kun," Munakata began, freezing Saruhiko at the entrance to the door. "Seeing you perform the other night...it was as though I finally saw you truly living. With Yata-kun, it seems you can do anything, or that was the sense I got from your singing," he said. "I would hate to see you lose that look in your eyes because of a silly fight."

Clenching his fist around the door handle, Saruhiko swung the door open and stormed away. What the hell did Munakata know anyway? He'd only known him for a few years, he didn't know how singing with Misaki made Saruhiko feel, he didn't know how Saruhiko felt about Misaki in general, how frustrating the idiot was. So what if he looked amazing and 'alive' while singing. It was a fluke, a one time thing...it wasn't going to happen ever again, especially not while Misaki was off following Mikoto like a lovesick puppy.

No, Saruhiko had made his choice.

~~

It wasn't long before blogs and radio stations had begun talking Nagare's announcement for his new track. It hadn't come long after Misaki and Mikoto had recorded theirs, but Kusanagi had made the final decision to hold off on posting their new single until around when Nagare's came out. The plan was to release it before however, and Misaki was anxious to hear the final product, and crowd reaction. Most people loved what Mikoto did, but who knew if they'd like the addition of him.

For now, Misaki was focusing on his other songs for his upcoming album. He had recorded a second with Totsuka, and though it had turned out amazingly, Misaki would occasionally feel the slight pang of longing for Saruhiko's amazing voice.

He'd made a promise with himself to stop being down about it after the recording session with Mikoto and Totsuka. Ultimately Misaki was happy. Sometimes his brain would be filled with thoughts of how things were with Saruhiko. It would've been better with Saruhiko, he often would think, but would quickly try and shake the idea from his head.

This was his dream, being signed with Homra was going to be amazing, and he could only hope to continue collaborating with Mikoto in the future. There had already been discussion of a tour with him once both of their new albums were released, then they could play their duet together as well. As long as the sales were up, it was basically guaranteed. Touring with Mikoto was a dream come true, actually everything lately had felt like a dream come true.

Still, Saruhiko missing was a hard slap of reality. Misaki was too stubborn to call him or text him, but he kept checking his phone to see if Saruhiko maybe would, even though he knew damn well Saruhiko would never. It sucked. They had been so close...to something. He'd just started to think that maybe...he loved the asshole. What a fool he'd been. One stupid fight had ruined it all, why the hell had Saruhiko not been more understanding!? Misaki groaned every time he thought about it. It was growing more and more frustrating and Misaki hated how often he felt down thinking about it.

The real problem was, Misaki missed Saruhiko. Missed his voice, missed collaborating with him. And more than his voice, Misaki missed Saruhiko. He missed Saruhiko's grouchy attitude, and he missed getting to bug him through texts all the time, and he missed getting to kiss him, and touch him...even though they had only done that a few times, Misaki had really really wanted to do it more. Usually, it was too much to even think about it.

"How did it go?" Kamamoto asked, when Misaki walked in from his session with Totsuka.

"It was good," Misaki said, tossing his backpack on the floor and plopping on the couch next to Kamamoto.

"Just good? You were recording with Totsuka today right?" he said.

"Yeah it was awesome!" he chuckled, leaning back with his arms against the couch.

"That sounds more like the Misaki I know," Kamamoto said, nudging his side.

"Shaddup! I'm still not used to this."

"What? Getting to work with your music heroes?" Kamamoto teased.

"Yeah! Exactly! It's just a little surreal you know?" Misaki said. "Plus...I'm still having that problem where I hear dumbass Saruhiko's voice on everything I do! It...kind of throws me off when I hear Totsuka sing them."

"Really?" Kamamoto said, looking shocked. "Isn't Totsuka really good though?"

"Yeah..." Misaki muttered. "I mean he's amazing! I love his voice, especially on Mikoto's stuff, they just...mesh so well you know?!"

"Well, they're dating right? I know there's been rumors about it..." Kamamoto said.

"WHAT?!" Misaki yelled. "They are!?"

"Eh!?" Kamamoto blinked. "I figured for sure you'd know since you've been around them in person unlike most of the tabloid writers..."

"I had...no idea..." Misaki blinked. "But I guess that does make sense...As to why they mesh so well." Blushing, Misaki thought of how good Saruhiko sounded on his song, and how it had led to other things between them.

"So you feel like Totsuka isn't right for your songs then?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki shook his head. "No, he's still amazing. His voice is incredible, and I actually can't believe the Totsuka Tatara is singing on one of my songs. But you know when you have a certain sound in your head...and you just...can't get it out. That keeps happening..." Misaki muttered, standing up to head to the kitchen for water.

"Hmm. You gotta do something to forget about that guy," Kamamoto said, leaning on the arm of the couch. "Maybe imagine Totsuka singing your stuff when you're working on it."

"I've been trying that!" Misaki moaned. "It's just...not working so well."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You always do!" Kamamoto cheered.

"I gotta!" Misaki said, filling up a cup with some water. "I mean I gotta make this album good you know? It's my first one!"

"Yata-san, no matter what you do, your album is gonna be freaking awesome!" Kamamoto chuckled.

"Maybe..." he sighed, sitting back down on the couch, and kicking his legs onto the table in front of them.

"Oh! You know what I heard, Nagare's single is going to be previewed tonight on the radio in...5 minutes!" Kamamoto said glancing at his watch.

"WHAT?!" Misaki said, slamming the cup on the table. "We wanted to release our single first! Shit! Kusanagi is going to be mad."

"Well it's just a preview...not everyone will hear it," Kamamoto said. "It's not like it's going online."

"Argh! Still!" Misaki growled, dashing into his room. He dug through his drawers looking for his old portable radio. Frantically tossing clothes and trash around, he finally found it on a shelf near his closet.

He ran back to the living room, placing it on the table as he tuned it to the 'Hits' station.

"Dammit!" Misaki cursed again. "I can't believe this!"

"You can still release it first," Kamamoto said. "Sorry I didn't realize this was such a big deal."

"Of course it is!" Misaki snapped. "We don't wanna be competing with Nagare's new sound. Whatever it is..." he grumbled.

His heart pounded as he heard the radio announcer talk about Nagare's new single, and how unique and interesting it was. Misaki normally loved his music, and any other time he probably would've been thrilled to hear a new track by him, but for now he was a complete ball of anxiety. What would it sound like? Would it be good? Would it be better than his and Mikoto's song?! Would their song flop which would cause Misaki's album to flop, and then he wouldn't get to go on tour and lose his signing?!

"And now! We're happy to bring you a preview of Nagare's new song, featuring up and coming singer, Fushimi Saruhiko."

Misaki froze, all thoughts of failure slipping from his mind. "..." Picking up the tiny radio, he turned to Kamamoto, whose face looked confused, his brow furrowed. "What the hell did it just say?!"

"I-I dunno!" Kamamoto choked out.

"Did it...did it say...did it...Saruhiko?" Misaki felt his mouth run dry, and he stared at the device in front of him. There was no way to rewind, so as the song began, all he could do was wait and listen. The song seemed to play in slow motion, each beat felt painful as his head began to throb. He couldn't focus on what the song sounded like.

Had Saruhiko sang with someone else? There was no way. Saruhiko could barely sing for him...let alone anyone else...

The first line came in, and Misaki felt his heart flutter, and then immediately sink. He knew that tone so well.

Saruhiko was singing on a song Hisui Nagare had written.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Hello ridia~ i don’t know if anyone already make this question but i just watck K missing kings, can u make the stories which Fushimi in Anna position which he become new blue king? Thank you

So maybe some kind of reverse situation then where Munakata dies at the end of the first season instead of Mikoto. Say he steps in to stop Mikoto from killing Colorless, taking Colorless out himself but then at the same time Colorless is just able to take control of Shiro's body at the last minute and like stabs Munakata with his own sword and kills him. This leads to the unexpected situation of Munakata dead and Mikoto alive, like imagine the scene at the bridge but it's Munakata's Sword that disappears instead, everyone's staring in shock and then Mikoto comes walking over the bridge holding Munakata's body, an unusually grave expression on his face. Afterward things are even more of a mess than in canon, now Homra is still whole (minus Totsuka) but it's not like Mikoto's Sword has become any more stable and he's obviously dealing with his own feelings surrounding what happened to Munakata as well. On Scepter 4's end they're pretty much in shambles, Awashima is trying to keep them all together but everything about their existence is uncertain – Scepter 4 is technically under the temporary jurisdiction of the Gold clan but the Golds are being unusually silent as well and whenever Awashima requests a meeting with the Gold King she's rebuffed.

Fushimi meanwhile is having his own issues, he tries to act like losing Munakata means nothing to him but really he's kinda adrift, Scepter 4's in limbo so it's as if he isn't needed there and he's still struggling with the idea that maybe Munakata actually was his King all along. In this AU say Hisui targets Fushimi instead of Anna, jungle is still trying to track down the whereabouts of the Silver King but with Mikoto alive it's too dangerous to try and kidnap one of his people. Instead jungle decides to try and use Scepter 4's surveillance systems to sweep the entire city and locate Shiro, however even Hisui isn't able to hack into that system. They need someone who knows Scepter 4's systems backwards and forwards and so Hisui decides to target Fushimi, figuring maybe while he's at it this time he can get Fushimi to join his clan. Say one day Fushimi's out on a mission maybe just accompanied by one of the alphabet boys, it's like him and Hidaka and they get attacked by some jungle mooks. In the middle of this Kuroh and Neko spot them and recognize Fushimi, they can see Fushimi and Hidaka are outnumbered and decide to help out, though Fushimi of course is considerably less thankful for that help than Kamamoto and Anna were in canon. Kuroh finds it curious that the Greens are making a move against one of Scepter 4's people and Fushimi says it's none of their business, telling Hidaka that they're leaving. Hidaka's not so sure about this though, worried about Fushimi, and he ends up letting it slip that Scepter 4's been trying to find the location of the Silver King.

Of course this gets Kuroh and Neko interested, Fushimi says it's classified and tells Hidaka to hold his tongue. Hidaka's like but maybe they can help us and Kuroh and Neko follow along behind them trying to get further information. This is when they get jumped by Yukari and Douhan, Fushimi manages to hold off Douhan pretty well but then say Hidaka gets in trouble and Fushimi ends up being taken trying to help him. Kuroh and Neko decide to go after Fushimi, figuring he's their best hope of finding Shiro, while an injured Hidaka goes back to Scepter 4 for help. Awashima is immediately concerned when she finds out that Fushimi's been kidnapped and they're able to figure out with Scepter 4's information systems that Fushimi's been taken to Mihashira Tower, which has been taken over by the Greens. Awashima decides to try and save Fushimi but maybe she's only able to take like Akiyama and Benzai with her, the rest of the squad busy already guarding the tower. Hidaka's worried that they'll get hurt on their own and tries to contact Homra, knowing Awashima's close with the bartender there. Instead he gets Yata, who's annoyed about Scepter 4 trying to ask Homra for help right up until he hears that it's Fushimi who's been kidnapped and then he's immediately like where did they take Saruhiko, ready to rush headlong into a rescue despite the bad blood between them.

So now Fushimi gets to be the one in the giant birdcage, he's just sitting there all quiet and gloomy while Hisui talks to him via Kotosaka and tries to get him to join jungle. Fushimi has no interest in having a King again however and is just all disaffected like he doesn't care what happens to him. Meanwhile the Silvers are preparing their assault and like in canon Yata comes barging into the tower himself and they go with him. Yata's determined to save Fushimi and he and Kuroh end up breaking into the room where Fushimi's being held, leaving Neko behind to deal with the remaining mooks. Fushimi's shocked to see Yata actually came for him, Yata fights Douhan while Kuroh goes after Yukari. Awashima and AkiBen eventually decide to make their move, Akiyama and Benzai helping Neko with the mooks while Awashima makes her way to the top of the tower. She goes to help Fushimi but is stopped by Douhan, she's immediately fighting back as Yata takes this opportunity to go to Fushimi.

Yata's trying to get Fushimi to wake up and try to escape the cage when maybe Mikoto makes his appearance, Yata left behind a note at Homra and they've arrived as backup. Kusanagi, Kamamoto and the Homra alphabet are clearing the area while Anna comes up to the top floor with Mikoto, going to Fushimi's cage and reaching out for him as she says his name. Her hand brushes his and suddenly Fushimi's eyes go wide and he finds himself sitting in a place that looks like Munakata's office, Munakata across from him with a puzzle between them. They talk and Munakata says Fushimi knows what he should do, the world he wants to create. Fushimi gets to finally say the words he couldn't before, 'my king is...' before blue power surrounds him. Suddenly he's back in the cage and he's glowing bright blue, Awashima staring in shock as a blue Sword of Damocles appears in the air and Fushimi destroys the cage around him, awakened as the new Blue King.

[ridiasfangirlings]

au in which munakata doesn't get to tell yata about fushimi not being a traitor, and Sukuna ends up killing him. reactions of yata + scepter four?

I’m just imagining an AU scenario where no one tells Yata thatFushimi’s not a traitor and so he spends the whole mission trying toconvince himself that he hopes that traitor gets what he deserves andhow after this is done he’s going to kick Saruhiko’s ass and thewhole thing, and then after the Slate’s destruction Douhan comes upfrom the underground cradling a dead Fushimi. Yata spots her first,assuming she’s with the Greens and all ready to attack and then hesees Fushimi and just stops dead, saying Fushimi’s name in this justdumbfounded whisper because he can’t believe what he’s looking at.And as he’s trying to process the whole thing Munakata comes overwith Awashima and the alphabet squad and everyone’s just staring asMunakata thanks Douhan for her assistance and takes Fushimi from her.They quickly and quietly discuss payment, Douhan conspicuously notlooking at Fushimi (because it’s not as if she might have feltfriendly towards him after that month they spent together doingjungle missions) and Munakata assuring her that she will get theagreed-upon amount as he gently cradles Fushimi’s body. Awashimameanwhile just gives this horrified gasp when she sees Fushimi theredead in Douhan’s arms and the alphabet boys are all staring withvarious looks of horror and worry at the whole scene.

And then in the middle of all this is Munakata, brushing Fushimi’sbangs away from his forehead as he murmurs ‘well done, Fushimi-kun.’Yata can’t take this anymore and wants to know what the fuck is goingon, what did Munakata mean by payment and what was the jungle chickdoing here and didn’t Fushimi betray them all. Munakata looks up athim with a serious expression as he admits the entire plan, thatFushimi only pretended to betray Scepter 4 and that he was reallythere all the time on a secret mission, that Fushimi was the reasonthe door to jungle’s hideout opened suddenly without any apparentwarning and that unfortunately it seems as if they were unable tosave Fushimi in time. Yata I think would just be this pissed off,horrified mess, like he’s got tears in his eyes and he’s shaking andit’s only Kusanagi’s hand on his shoulder and the alphabet boysputting their hands on their swords that stops him from givingMunakata an even harder punch than Awashima already did. Instead Yatajust starts yelling, blaming Munakata like how the hell could yousend one of your own men into danger like this and weren’t yousupposed to be Saruhiko’s King and protect him, Yata just so angryand upset and trying not to break down in tears that his best friendis dead. I think he’d be hugely blaming himself too, that he actuallythought Fushimi betrayed them all and why didn’t he realize itsooner, how could he have spent all that time preparing for the planwithout thinking about finding Fushimi or getting him out (andespecially if he’d been planning to fight Fushimi later, like whydidn’t I go find him first why didn’t I hunt him down that month hewas missing and get him to tell me something why couldn’t I savehim). He’s pissed off at Fushimi too, weakly shaking Fushimi’sshoulder as he calls Fushimi an idiot in a choked voice, because nowYata won’t ever understand him and how could he just die withoutexplaining himself to Yata or saying goodbye.

The alphabet boys and Awashima meanwhile I think would also be upsetbut there would be less blame on Munakata, I think they would be moresaluting a fallen comrade – though I could see Hidaka at leaststruggling with this afterward, considering he was close to Kusuharaas well and he cared about Fushimi, like how can he follow a King whogets his men killed like this and how could he send Fushimi intosomething so dangerous. He does eventually talk to Munakata about itthough and I think he would end up forgiving Munakata on that end,like Munakata tries to sound as if this was the only option and anecessity but it’s clear he’s grieving too and even though Fushimiaccepted the mission of his own free will Munakata blames himselfmore than anyone else that he was unable to get Fushimi out alive.Awashima I think would be trying to comfort Munakata while alsofeeling pained herself, that she ever believed Fushimi was a traitorand wondering what he must have been thinking the last time she sawhim, at the party where he was fighting against her as an ostensiblemember of jungle and why did he always have to take on the burden ofsuch missions alone. I think there would definitely be something of apall over Scepter 4, like yes they technically won and Munakatadefeated Iwafune with the power of clan bonding but it’s a hollowvictory knowing Fushimi didn’t make it out alive, feeling bad thatany of them ever doubted him and how Fushimi’s actions were heroicbut even so he must have still been so lonely to the end – eventhough it was a secret mission I think they would all wish a littlethat he’d been able to confide in someone, have someone by his sidein the end rather than dying knowing everyone thought he was atraitor.

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Fifteen

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 15/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

It wasn’t too late when Yata woke on the morning of the solstice – at least, not compared to the day before. Well before noon, anyway.

For once, Fushimi – Saruhiko, he had to remind himself, with a tiny rush of triumph from the previous night’s success – was still asleep too, breathing heavy and even against the back of his neck. Yata couldn’t help but smile a little at the sensation. It was sorta nice to wake up to, despite the discomfort of being crammed into the same bed. One of Saruhiko’s arms was slung carelessly over him, probably something that had happened during the night since they’d started out back to back, and their skin was in contact. It was too hot and Yata’s knees were hanging off the edge of the bed, but he still liked it. It was… intimate.

They’d fucked again when they got in the night before, reaching for each other in unspoken consensus immediately after the door had shut behind them. It had been slower and less urgent than the previous night, but just as amazing; the feeling when their bodies joined brought out a deep satisfaction in Yata. Not just the physical sensation of Saruhiko moving inside him, but… Well, it was hard to explain.

He liked it, though. A lot.

Guess it has been a while. Not just for sex, but the little things, too – like waking up next to someone. It was a really good feeling.

It was clear out again that day, too; Yata could tell by the light streaming in through the little window above them. If they were doing any more charging, it probably would’ve been a good time for it.

The thought brought the stones back to the front of his mind; without really considering it, he reached under his pillow and slid the moonstone free, moving slowly to try and avoid jostling Saruhiko. It was smooth against his fingers as he rolled it absently in his hand, watching the light catch against the ice-like cracks within. He could feel the sun’s power within it, warm and inviting, and it seemed to give that glitter less of a sharp edge – more welcoming, even as it maintained its cool beauty.

For some reason, he felt like he was gonna miss having it when they had to hand them back in. It set off a little pang in his chest just thinking about it.

Saruhiko shifted behind him, a low moan muffled against the pillow behind Yata’s head, and the arm draped against his side moved sluggishly. A huff of warm breath hit the back of his neck, making the fine hairs rise up, and then Saruhiko was mumbling out a sleepy-sounding, “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Nothing.” Yata closed his fingers around the stone, cutting it off from view, and tilted his head to try and aim a smile over his shoulder. “Morning.”

“Mm.” Saruhiko sighed again, breath ghosting along Yata’s skin again, and then he shifted again, hand bracing purposefully on Yata’s abdomen so that his fingers teased the line of his underwear. “Morning,” he drawled, low and throaty with sleep but still carrying that teasing undertone.

Yata couldn’t have stopped the lazy grin spreading on his face if he’d wanted to, reveling in the beginning prickle of arousal as his body responded.

This was an invitation he wasn’t about to turn down.

After they’d finished and cleaned up, Saruhiko asked him, “Does the Captain ever ask you to work on the solstice?”

“Nope.” Yata stepped into his shoes, turning as he adjusted them. “I’m part of another coven, so the shit I do for him can’t get in the way of that. We don’t have a real contract or anything – I just do that stuff on the side – but he’s gotta know that’s how it is.”

“Yeah, he would.” Saruhiko frowned slightly. “There are a lot of limitations to what you can do for him, huh?” he mused, almost to himself. “I wonder how he plans to fill that gap.”

Yata raised an eyebrow. “What d’you mean?”

“Nothing.” Saruhiko shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Huh.” Yata eyed him for a second longer, then shrugged it off. “Okay.”

Homra was busy when they arrived, which was more or less what he'd expected, with it being solstice. Normally they didn't do regular meet-ups unless there was a major spell-casting planned so it was kinda hard to get everyone together at once, but there were certain occasions when everyone went out of their way to be there. Both solstice holidays fit into that category - and with Homra's ruling aspect being the sun, the summer solstice was always the most energetic. So when he swung open the door with his usual greeting on his lips and was met immediately by the lively blend of sounds coming from his friends within, it was warm and familiar.

“Yo, Yata-san!” Kamamoto greeted him boisterously, and grinned when he caught sight of Saruhiko behind him. “Yo, Fushimi.”

“Still here, hm?” Totsuka added, with a smile.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, but didn't respond. Yata offered a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Man.” The response came from Chitose this time, who was leaning back against the back with both elbows braced on it. He shook his head, letting out a mocking sigh. “The rest of us can't bring dates, but Yata’s allowed his demon boyfriend, huh? That's favoritism for ya.”

Boyfriend. Yata shot him a frown, trying to cover the little wriggling feeling of something within him responding to the word. “Hey, not like I have a choice here!”

Chitose spread his hands in a ‘what can you do’ manner, that teasing smile still on his face. “Noticed you’re not denying the 'boyfriend' part.”

Somehow, that caught him off-guard. Yata blinked. “That’s...”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue before the silence could become more telling. “There’s only so many times you can tell a joke before it starts to get old and predictable,” he muttered. Lowering his voice even further to a tone that sounded almost dark, he added, “Anyway, I won’t be around to bother you for too much longer.”

“Ah...” It was the truth, but somehow it strung a funny, almost painful chord in Yata's chest. He cleared his throat to cover it up, and nodded, avoiding the oddly compelling urge to turn and catch Saruhiko’s expression. “R-right. What he said.”

The hell’s up with me lately?

“Well, it shouldn’t be a problem for one solstice celebration,” Kusanagi cut in smoothly. He offered Saruhiko a smile. “Consider yourself our guest this time, Fushimi.”

Saruhiko didn't respond; when Yata turned to sneak a glance, he was standing with his gaze turned slightly, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. It was a casual enough pose for him, but with the fresh insights of the night before, somehow it now struck Yata as... really awkward. It was obvious that Saruhiko felt out of place.

If he was younger... fresh and enthusiastic and thinking the world of his newfound coven... he probably would’ve shrugged that off and tried to pull Fushimi along into his circle of friends. Assuming everyone felt like him, and just bulling ahead with his own interests...

That was in the past, though. Yata swallowed back the little rush of self-consciousness and went with his instincts. “You got the decorations ready, Kusanagi-san? We'll go on ahead and set up.”

His older friend tilted his head, a considering look in his eyes. “If you want. It’ll be a few hours yet before the rest of us can join you.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Yata shrugged. “We can take our time flying out there.” He grinned over his shoulder. “You’re up for it, right, Saruhiko?”

That expression he caught was that vaguely bewildered one again. It was familiar by now, but it still felt like Yata’s heart kicked up a notch or two when he saw it. He wasn't sure why, but as usual Saruhiko seemed to shutter up almost as soon as their eyes met. He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose, momentarily causing them to catch the light and hide his eyes from view. “It’s fine.”

Totsuka let out a low whistle, breaking into the moment. “‘Saruhiko’, eh?”

“Huh?” Oh – right. Yata turned sharply, already waving his hands with a kind of flustered ferocity even as he felt warmth build on his face. He still wasn’t used to it himself, using that name, so it felt weird to have someone else commenting on it. “W-wait, that’s – that’s just – ”

“Misaki.” Anna’s quiet voice cut through his babbling. She’d crossed the room while he’d had his head turned and was now standing in front of him, holding out a box full of what looked like fresh red flowers. “Use these to decorate.”

“Oh.” It would’ve been hard to deny her anything when she offered that tiny smile, eyes seeming to shine despite the calm expression. Yata took the box, letting the rest of it go as he smiled back ruefully. “Yeah, leave it to me!”

“I’ve got the rest in the back room,” Kusanagi added. “If you’re planning to head out right away, want to grab 'em now?”

“Of course!”

He ended up leaving the flowers to Saruhiko, who didn't offer much beyond a muttered ‘why should I have to help?’ even as he took the box. The second load, which was quite a bit heavier, Yata took himself, and they set out like that.

Despite the fact that he’d talked about taking their time as they flew over, he didn’t linger in the air for too long. Not because the burden he was carrying was all that cumbersome – he’d handled worse, and for longer – but because he was anxious to settle somewhere he could actually talk with Saruhiko. There wasn’t anything specific to say, but somehow he was eager for it all the same. It was funny: even though they were together all the time, lately he found himself looking forward to those interactions more and more.

It was… weird, honestly. Things had changed a lot between them. And maybe some of it was the last few days being really intense, but in a way it kinda felt like those last few days were another symptom rather than the cause.

Still, he had no idea what the cause was. It was bugging him, like an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch.

“So?” Saruhiko asked him after they’d landed and set their burdens down at the scorched patch of land near the grove of trees that concealed his garden. “What do you do once you’re out here?”

“Decorate. Well, sorta.” Yata offered him a grin. “We can at least get the bells and flowers out so they look decent. Anna will probably want to move things around a bit when she sees it, but it’s easier than doing it all at once when she gets here.”

“If you say so.” Saruhiko looked from the boxes to the sparse trees in the area, expression dubious. “Where exactly are you planning to hang them all?”

“We got a couple of folding posts I just gotta set up – plus the trees.” Yata shrugged, setting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. “It’s kinda sparse and all, but the fae don’t mind as long as there’s a good party going.” At that, he smirked. “If you don’t watch out, they’ll prank you.”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow. “I’ll manage somehow. Either way…” He raised his hand, languidly turning it up and materializing a copy of one of the red flowers Anna had given them. “If you’re worried about decorations being sparse, I can help with that.”

Yata blinked, momentarily startled, and then shook his head, smile turning sheepish. “Right, that – I kinda forgot.” Looking up from the illusion to meet Saruhiko’s gaze, he added, “You’re a pretty useful guy to have around, huh?”

Saruhiko’s eyelids lowered just a bit, lips turning up in a small, almost mocking smile – but without the usual edge. “I wonder how you’d react if you could hear yourself say that when we first met.”

Somehow, that look made his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, well things change when you get to know a guy.” On impulse – and because the feeling swelling up in his chest flooded him with the urge to do it – he took a step closer, reaching out to brush his fingers over Saruhiko’s. Even that simple contact set off the pleasant flutter in his belly, shivering through his body and along his skin.

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback, and then shut his eyes, letting out a small, amused huff. “This morning wasn’t enough, huh?”

“Eh?” Yata frowned, puzzled – and then the meaning struck all at once and he jerked his hand back, mortification surging up fast and furious within him. “Th-That’s not what I was going for, you asshole!”

“Hm?” The little mocking hum came at the same time as Saruhiko opened his eyes to half mast, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Could’ve fooled me.” He turned his own hand, letting the flower dissipate. “Well, not like I mind.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” Yata snorted, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head with a kind of confused and flustered energy. Had he been giving off a vibe like that? He hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe…

Fuck, who knows what it feels like on his end.

It wasn’t worth thinking about too much. Yata shrugged off the embarrassment, stepping back to look around again. “Anyway, everyone else will probably get here pretty quick after we finish, but if not, we can visit my stash. Or fly around, whatever.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “‘Whatever’ sounds like the best option.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Somehow, that brought a fond smile to his lips. “Fussy bastard.”

Decorating went by pretty quickly. Yata was used to it after years of Homra celebrations. With his wings, he was in the best position to get things up in high places like on the trees. He arranged the various bells and wind chimes with Anna’s flowers around them, trying to space them evenly and stifling his annoyance at Saruhiko’s critical comments long enough to fix whatever didn’t look right. When he began to set up the folding posts so that more bells and flowers could be arranged around the blackened fire pit, the help he got became more concrete – additional posts, small decorative fences, and extra flowers and bells.

There was a small breeze already, so by the time they’d finished, the area had a faint musical aura – one that Yata could feel tugging at some deep part of him. The whimsical atmosphere made him feel relaxed and energized, eagerly anticipating the festivities that they were setting up for.

Plus… the setup looked great, even if he had to say it himself.

“We make a pretty good team, huh?” he commented lightly as they surveyed the result.

There was a slight frown on Saruhiko’s face. “It wasn’t a complete disaster, I guess.”

“Heh.” Yata grinned at him in response. “That sounds a lot like ‘yeah, we’re awesome’, coming from you.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, glancing at him only briefly before looking away. “Think what you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” The pessimistic attitude wasn’t about to dampen his spirits. “I’ll bet Anna won’t even have anything for us to fix this time!”

As it turned out, Anna did have a few requests, but her first action upon leaving Kusanagi’s car was to look around slowly and then turn to smile at them. “Thank you, Misaki.” Her eyes drifted past him. “And thank you for helping, Saruhiko.”

Saruhiiko looked vaguely nonplussed with that praise. He clicked his tongue. “I didn’t do much.”

“Don’t listen to him, Anna – he helped out a lot!” Yata beamed at her. “There’s a bunch of extra stuff around here thanks to him, and we don’t even have to take it down. Pretty cool, huh?”

Chitose, who’d parked his motorcycle behind them, let out a low whistle. “Sounds like your boyfriend’s got you beat when it comes to this stuff, huh?”

“Huh? Hey, I still did most of this shit!” Belatedly, Yata remembered to add, “And he’s not my boyfriend, goddamnit!”

“Sure, sure.” Chitose laughed, shrugging, and moved to help unload the purified wood from Kusanagi’s trunk, ignoring Yata’s scowl.

“You sure are lively,” Saruhiko mumbled, sounding irritable.

Yata glanced at him. “What’s wrong with that?” Without waiting for an answer, he went ahead with, “Anyway, we’re just goofing around. This shit is normal.”

Saruhiko’s frown deepened. “Not for me,” he muttered.

It doesn’t have to be for you. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, fueled by a sudden irritation, but before he could say them, Anna said, “Misaki. I want to group those bells together.”

“Oh… right.” That snapped him out of that mood. Yata turned to offer her a sheepish smile, following the line of her finger. “You got it!”

With everyone working together, they made quick work of fixing the decorations to Anna’s satisfaction and setting up both the fire pit and the tables that were quickly loaded with food. Coolers holding the drinks were set up beside them, and Totsuka brought out his guitar to begin a counterpart to the music of the chimes and bells as the sky started to darken.

Almost time, huh?

The air was thick with magic and presence even before the fire had been lit. Yata could feel the sense of familiarity and comfort settling in his bones, and stepped back away from the lively conversation that had formed around the food and drinks and entertainment to stand slightly apart, raising his face up to greet the moon for a brief moment as it became clear in the sky on midsummer’s eve.

He was happy. It was normal, being around the people closest to him, and especially on the solstice, but somehow right then he felt it more than usual. It was strange and consuming, making him feel giddy and light – as if he’d gotten drunk on his own contentment.

“Just about time, huh?” Kusanagi’s voice cut into his thoughts; when Yata lowered his gaze, he found his older friend fixing him with what looked like an appraising gaze. “I’d give it a minute or two before we finally put Mikoto to work.”

“Ah… right.” Yata grinned back, a bit sheepish at being caught drifting. It wasn’t unusual in places this close to fae territory and on holidays where their magic could be felt in the air, but he still couldn’t help it. The comment had his gaze wandering to where Mikoto lounged near the fire pit, back up against one of the posts and eyes closed as Totsuka continued to play the guitar not far from him. “Mikoto-san is always the one who ends up tending the fire, huh?”

“It’s the only job he’ll actually do,” Kusanagi noted wryly. There was a fond undertone to his voice despite the criticism; when Yata turned back to him, he was also looking in Mikoto’s direction. “Something about dealing with fire seems to suit him, anyway.”

Not that long ago, he probably would’ve responded with something like ‘because Mikoto-san is fierce and powerful like a fire’. That sense of his old self wasn’t so far off that Yata couldn’t feel the little echo of his own overblown pride and blind hero worship from back in those days – an overzealous reaction to finding a place that he could belong to and excel in. These days, he’d tempered a lot of it but the traces were still there. Despite having spoken on a personal level with Mikoto more than once and being aware that he had burdens of his own to struggle with, the instinctive sense of awe that inspired Yata’s respect and loyalty still lingered.

Because of that, he felt the need to respond with something strongly in Mikoto’s favor, even if it wasn’t on the level of his previous thoughtless praise. “Feels like Mikoto-san is someone who could win against a fire most of the time.”

Kusanagi shot him a startled glance, and then let out a brief huff of laughter. “That’s a different way to look at it.” He shook his head. “Though, if it came down to it, you may be right.” His gaze slid past Yata then, somewhere beyond his right shoulder. “Is Fushimi all right on his own over there?”

The comment had him instantly turning his head in that direction, though he already knew what he’d see. Saruhiko had positioned himself deliberately on the outside of the celebration, his arms crossed as he stood awkwardly, head turned as if he were studying something in the distance with fascination. When Yata had first noticed him doing it, he’d gone out and suggested that Saruhiko come in and join the group, which had earned him a click of Saruhiko’s tongue and a low “I’m fine out here”. Yata had stayed a couple of moments longer with the thought of keeping him company, but had eventually gotten a pointed “Didn’t you come here to celebrate with your coven?” and gave that up as well. It was like Saruhiko had decided before anything had started that he wasn’t going to have any fun, and he was stubbornly sticking to that no matter what.

If it had been a few years ago, Yata would’ve kept trying to drag him in; even now, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bubble of confused annoyance. After all, if Saruhiko just tried, or at least didn’t let Yata’s efforts go to waste… But he’d done enough of that in the past, forcing his own feelings on others, and the understanding the two of them had built was still fresh. If he stopped to think about it carefully like he was trying to do more these days, he had to admit the truth: they were similar in a lot of ways, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Don’t think this is his kinda scene,” he admitted to Kusanagi, letting his eyes linger on that cool, distant profile just a bit longer.

Despite his obvious discomfort… Saruhiko hadn’t complained at all.

“I think you’re right about that,” Kusanagi agreed, and then chuckled. “Well, at least you know he can compromise – you’d be surprised how important that is.” When Yata turned to shoot him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “You’ll probably learn it soon enough, but you know that ‘love conquers all’ is a myth, right? Sometimes disagreements run too deep to just talk out.”

Realization sunk in – Yata felt a rush of mortification surge up through him, bringing heat to his face. “Wait, wait, wait!” He waved his hands furiously. “Saruhiko’s not – not actually my boyfriend or anything – it’s – things are kind of…”

“Oh?” Kusanagi drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering a knowing sort of smile. “It’s ‘complicated’, right? I’ve been there.” He pulled out a single smoke, holding it between his fingers as he returned the rest of the pack. “Dunno if things are serious yet, but I know that look.” His smile turned a bit rueful as he fished for his lighter. “Love will either come at you hard and fast or sneak up on you to the point you can’t tell you’re hit until it’s too late. It doesn’t take long when find one that clicks.”

One that clicks. Yata frowned, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder again. “You got it all wrong, Kusanagi-san. Yeah, we’re – y’know – we’re doing it” – the admission caused another fierce heat to flare beneath his skin – “but it’s not… not that.” It felt too awkward to say the word, a kind of squirming discomfort forming within him even as he talked about it.

It wasn’t. Right?

“That so?” Kusanagi lit his cigarette, taking a long drag and letting it out before responding further. “Well, if I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, don’t mind me.” He reached out to clap Yata’s shoulder lightly, offering an easy smile that was strangely offset by a serious gaze. “Maybe give it some thought before you write it off, though. Save yourself some pain in the end.”

Yata stared back at him, unable to think of anything to respond with. It felt like his mind had gone blank.

“Well, enough of that.” Kusanagi pulled his hand back, tilting his head up to regard the darkening sky. “I’d say it’s about time to get the fire going, hm?” Without waiting for Yata’s response, he stepped back and away, heading off in Mikoto’s direction.

The stunned paralysis that had struck Yata in his wake was interrupted by a nudge in his side. “Oi.” When he jerked and glanced over, startled, he found himself facing a frowning Saruhiko. “What was all this” – one slender finger reached up to tap the side of his head lightly – “about?”

“Eh?” For a second, Yata could only stare at him blankly – and then it sunk in exactly what he was being asked, and he couldn’t help the rush of flustered panic that washed over him in response. “Th-that… Nothing!” He waved his hands again with frenzied energy. “Just – just never mind!”

If anything, Saruhiko’s eyes only narrowed with further suspicion, but Yata was spared the trouble of making any more useless excuses by the soft notes of the guitar fading and Totsuka’s voice calling out, “We’re starting the fire, everyone! Come on!”

The flurry of activity around them was like a blessing. Yata cleared his throat, grinning with relief. “Right, fire time!” Impulsively, he reached out to take hold of Saruhiko’s wrist, dragging him in towards the fire pit where the others were gathering. “C’mon!”

He could hear the telltale sound of Saruhiko clicking his tongue with annoyance, but he didn’t resist.

This was the highlight of summer solstice as far as Yata was concerned. The way the flames caught on the wood and began to rapidly grow, reaching up toward the sky, made it seem like they were dancing along to the haunting music from the various bells and wind chimes set up around the site. He could almost get a sense of a soul from it, gleefully expanding and swaying as they became a part of the magic of the night. He could’ve watched them for hours.

Maybe that was why his previously frazzled brain began to calm. Watching the fire grow, Yata could feel himself settle, thoughts clearing. Saruhiko’s wrist was still held in his hand; no attempt had been made to free it, and the notion that the contact might even be welcome made him feel pleasantly warm – like the mental reflection of the heat from the fire brushing against his face.

“Love will either come at you hard and fast or sneak up on you to the point you can’t tell you’re hit until it’s too late.”

Or both, Yata’s brain appended, and it felt like that clicked things into place.

That was really it.

All the moments of feeling good in a way that he couldn’t explain…

The flutter in his belly when their eyes met…

Looking forward to being together – interacting in whatever way – even when they had nothing in particular to say, and they did it all the time anyway…

He was seriously in fucking love with this guy.

Maybe not totally. Maybe just ‘falling’ – but falling fast and hard enough to call it love, even now. And like Kusanagi had said, it had also snuck up on him. Yata felt that little tendril of something warm and thrilling spreading out from his chest – partly wonder and partly a kind of release at finally knowing. At finally admitting it. He’d been feeling this way for a while, falling for Saruhiko, and hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

I’m seriously a dumbass. Even the self-deprecating thought held too much good humor. Yata could feel the corners of his mouth edging up. He felt like laughing. Like jumping off the ground and throwing his arms in the air. Finally – finally he could place this feeling.

He was here at solstice in front of the fire, surrounded by the most important people in his life, and he was in love. It was hard to believe, but it was real.

He loved Saruhiko.

At the peak of that soaring height, Yata felt his eyes drawn to the side, the solid weight of Saruhiko’s wrist within the circle of his fingers seeming to send little sparks of warmth through him. That bubbling happiness had him nearly trembling with the expectation of Saruhiko’s eyes meeting his, sharing the understanding of that emotion he’d taken so long to identify and accepting it – maybe even returning it. In that moment, he had nothing but hope – optimism, even – that surely this was mutual. They had clicked in almost every single way, their thoughts and feelings seeming to synchronize more and more as they got to know each other. It had to be mutual.

And yet, when he turned, all he saw was the side of Saruhiko’s head, a frown on his lips and his gaze fixed stubbornly in front of him.

Confusion hit first. He… he feels it, right? All of Yata’s emotions got through to Saruhiko – that had been proven again and again. There was no way he didn’t feel it.

No way he hadn’t felt it… all of it…

All this time…

Slow, cold realization was settling. Yata felt his body still, growing awareness making the contact of his skin against Saruhiko’s feel clammy and uncomfortable. He was just figuring this out now, yeah, but Saruhiko had been feeling it through him the whole time.

The whole time, he’d known exactly how Yata had felt, and he’d said nothing.

He was still saying nothing.

Say something! A knot of dread had formed in his stomach, but he couldn’t quite release the last, desperate dregs of hope from pounding around in his chest. Yata tightened his fingers on Saruhiko’s wrist a bit, watching his face for a sign – anything. At least look at me, goddamnit!

The frown on Saruhiko’s face shifted to a grimace; he clicked his tongue, turning his head to the opposite side to further obscure his expression.

That was enough to kill the last tattered shreds of it. Yata released his grip, feeling numb to the core as he pulled his hand back and turned away. The only sensation that seemed to register across his entire body as the sound of fire crackling and bells chiming softly played in mocking counterpart to the moment was the throbbing ache that spread across his chest and up his throat.

The fall from that height was crushing, as it turned out.

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Nine

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 9/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

The sky hadn’t cleared by the time they returned to Munakata’s office, but the rain at least tapered off to a drizzle by the time they came out again, allowing for another flight to the Homra bar so that Yata could pass along the information about Hisui – which Kusanagi didn’t seem particularly surprised or bothered about.

That was kinda what he’d expected – Kusanagi had ways of getting information that Yata would never have been able to figure out – but loyalty had prompted him to speak up anyway. Just in case.

Three of his friends – Kamamoto, Bandou, and Akagi – all happened to be there this time, and Yata stayed just long enough to introduce Fushimi and give a grudging explanation of his current situation.

An explanation that Fushimi kept interrupting with embarrassing, unnecessary details, which his friends all seemed to find hilarious. Fucking traitors, all of them.

“You didn’t have to say all that,” he grumbled when they pushed through the door into his place after flying in.

“If I didn’t, it wouldn’t get said,” Fushimi responded without any sign of remorse, lowering his eyelids and offering a little smirk when Yata turned to glare at him.

Fuck, that expression was still dangerous as hell. Yata couldn’t help but feel nervous at being the focus of it, acutely aware of his exposed skin as he cleared his throat to respond. “Yeah, well, I’m fine with that.”

“You’re the one who values honesty,” Fushimi responded breezily, lowered his lids even further to allow his lashes to veil his eyes – and Yata had to look away, hastily tugging his shirt out from where he’d tucked it into his shorts and pulling it on.

It seriously felt like he needed a barrier against that look sometimes.

The evening was… uneventful. Mostly. He made himself dinner, they took turns having showers again, and it seemed like Fushimi was just going to bury himself in his laptop. So Yata cleaned the remains of the ill-fated summoning from his floor – finally – and pulled out his portable gaming system to waste a few hours before going to bed.

He wasn’t fifteen minutes into it – swearing up a storm as usual – before Fushimi was suddenly leaning over the back of his chair and pointing out every single mistake. And he didn’t put up with more than five minutes of that before thrusting the console in his face and telling him to ‘put up or shut up’.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, Fushimi was surprisingly good at video games.

Yata could only watch him blow through all the trouble spots with apparent ease for a minute or two before a mix of chagrin and frustration had him ripping the console back out of Fushimi’s hands and furiously turning his attention to mastering the stupid thing already.

“And you said I can’t handle losing,” Fushimi drawled, raising an eyebrow at him.

They spent the rest of the evening like that – Yata playing and Fushimi taking breaks to watch over his shoulder periodically, mumbling suggestions almost as if making observations to himself. Which was annoying, but he ended up usually being right, so after a few rebellious but frustrating deaths accompanied by impatient sighs from behind him, Yata started following the advice rather than stubbornly doing the opposite.

The suggestions became more frequent after that. Almost like an annoying companion telling him what he already knew he needed to do.

“Get the chest. To the right. The right.”

“I saw it, just… this guy’s in the way! Wait, wait… There!”

“You should equip that right away – it’s better than what you’ve got on.”

“I know! I’m doing it now, okay?”

“Watch out for that guy coming back.”

“I got it, just let me do this!”

“You always miss things when I leave you alone.”

“Fuck off! I do not!”

“… You just passed a chest.”

“Damnit! I was just… I was gonna get it later!”

“Right. ‘Later’. After you die without reaching the next save point, you mean.”

“Ugh! Shut up already!”

As frustrating as it was, the evening passed by quickly, and Yata was so keyed up by the end of it that he nearly forgot the unfortunate mess they were in and the problems caused by the bad weather. Maybe it’ll clear up by tomorrow, was the last thought that went through his head before he passed out into blissful unconsciousness.

By morning, it had started to rain in earnest again.

“It’s almost like the Captain planned this,” Fushimi mumbled resentfully as they stepped out of Yata’s apartment. “Just to see how long it takes for one or both of us to snap.”

Yata snorted in response, locking his door. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” He turned to open his umbrella.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Your coffee place is open today, right?” He materialized his own umbrella, already open, as they headed for the stairs. “Yesterday's was barely tolerable.”

“You're like one of those coffee snobs, huh?” Yata shook his head, amused. “But you liked the shit I had, right?” He didn't wait for an answer - by now he was more or less clued in that a lack of complaints was the same as a compliment as far as Fushimi was concerned. “That's their stuff. And it's better when they make it, too - you'll see.”

“Hm.” That was a slightly dubious hum, but Fushimi didn't offer a deprecating comment with it.

Good enough.

The coffee shop required a train going in the opposite direction of Munakata's place, but it was generally worth the extra time spent. In addition to the coffee – and the desserts, which were just as awesome – sometimes they had a delivery for him to take back to work with him, which saved him a little time here and there.

Munakata also had an uncanny knack for picking out when Yata was gonna visit the place and arranging for him to take a delivery with him for the owner. It was pretty convenient, even if the all-knowing bullshit pissed him off a little. He could live with it at least.

Whatever. A job’s a job.

When they walked out of the station, it was into the center of a shopping district: all colorful billboards and banners, large store names, and fancy awnings for restaurants and small buildings. Most of them had a modern look, unlike Homra's old-fashioned decor, but there was a lot more liveliness to it than Munakata's sleek, symmetrical office building. The sidewalks were crowded with people despite the rain, umbrellas blending into a mishmash of shades and shapes and shopping bags bumping against their legs. Some of the stores had colored lighting to illuminate their signs and specials through the grey haze of the downpour.

As usual, it was a flashy place.

“This looks like a pain,” Fushimi muttered beside him.

Somehow it wasn't a surprise that he'd hate crowded areas. “Yeah, yeah.” Yata re-opened his umbrella, raising it up over his head before they reached the edge of the station’s awning. “S'not that bad once you get used to it. Anyway, it's not far - just don't lose me.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, following suit with the illusionary umbrella he’d kept with him on the train. “I literally can't lose you, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Right. He wasn't totally sure how that contract kept them tethered, honestly. Good question for later, maybe. “Then there's no problem, right? C'mon.”

The café was only a block and a half from the station, sandwiched between an art supplies shop and a pet store. The building it was part of was actually the outside perimeter of a mall, so it continued up past the small awning that read ‘Hakumaitou’ in cheerful, bold printing. There was a small decal in the pane of glass on the door: two paw prints, one from a cat and one from a dog. Otherwise, the exterior picture windows just offered a view of the tables and chairs inside, all of which were small and round and clearly intended for just two or three people to sit at. There were some booths toward the back that allowed for larger groups, but the obvious intent of the place was a spot to relax with one or two people you were close with.

“Why would you name a café ‘Hakumaitou’?” Fushimi muttered, seemingly to himself. “What does white rice have to do with coffee?”

“No idea.” Yata paused to fold his umbrella again and stow it in the backpack he’d bought along. “I asked once but the answer didn't really make sense. Something about friends and food? I think it's like an inside joke.” He reached out to push the door open and then hesitated, frowning. “I don't think there's any protection spells on this place. If so it'd probably just be warding off evil and those with ill intent and all. Their coven headquarters is in the basement, so that'd be the place with all the wards. I think.”

“You ‘think’, huh?” Fushimi sighed. “Well, if you're wrong we’ll be giving whoever’s in there an eyeful, and you can do the explaining.”

Yata shot him a disgruntled look. “I’m gonna go ask them, jerk. Wait here.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Just remember not to go far if you don't want me following you.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Sort of. Whatever. Yata pushed open the door, setting off the cheery jingle that would alert the staff to a customer’s arrival. He brought up a hand automatically to greet the dark-haired man standing behind the counter. “Yo, Yatogami!”

He didn’t get an immediate response. Looking closer, the man – Yatogami Kuroh – was very carefully decorating the top of what looked like a chocolate cake. He set aside the icing wand after a moment, wiping the back of his arm across his forehead, and looked up. “Yata Misaki. What brings you here?”

Yata grimaced. “What’s with the full name thing, seriously?” He didn’t wait for a response, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached the counter. “I need more coffee. But first off…” He glanced around at the few patrons sitting in some of the tables, and lowered his voice furtively. “You guys don’t have any kinda dispels set up around this place, do you?”

Yatogami folded his arms. “This is a place of business. The wards are for protection, health, and harmony. Those who wish to pass unnoticed are welcome to keep their disguises. Why do you – ?”

The door jingled, drawing both of their attention, and Fushimi stepped inside.

Yata’s skin prickled up, first with shock and then with outrage. “What are you doing? I thought I told you to wait outside!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, frowning in response as he made his way across the room toward the counter. “I thought I told you not to go too far.”

“This is too far?” At max, he’d only put a few feet between them. “You gotta be kidding me!”

“Don’t blame me for this stupid contract’s requirements.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who set it up without any kind of thought put into the limitations. Magic does what it will when you set it loose.”

“A wise observation,” Yatogami cut in before Yata could snap back. He glanced between the two of them with a severe expression. “However, I’ll have to ask you to take this outside if you’re going to continue. I don’t know what the situation is between the two of you, but you’re disrupting the mood for our customers.”

It was true – a quick glance around revealed that the few patrons in the café were watching them with a certain amount of confusion. Yata felt his face grow hot. “Right, sorry,” he muttered, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, frowning, but didn’t respond.

“Anyway,” Yata hurried on, trying to brush aside his embarrassment, “like I said, we’re just here for coffee.”

Yatogami regarded him evenly. “Buying or trading?”

Yata grinned back, recovering his equilibrium. “Both.” He reached down into his lower shorts pocket for the packet he’d prepared before leaving his apartment. “I got more dream herb to trade. We’re each gonna get something while we’re here, too.”

“I see.” Yatogami reached out to take the packet from him. “Very well. I’ll let Shiro know you’re – ”

“Did I hear someone mention dream herb?” The swinging door at the back behind the counter was pushed open by a silver-haired man with a youthful face: Isana Yashiro, the owner of the café and leader of their small coven. He smiled broadly, stepping into the room. “Oh, Yata! Nice to see you again. If you’re here to trade, you have good timing – we’re just about out. I was thinking of contacting Munakata, actually.”

“The hell? Don't call him for this stuff!” Yata braced a hand on the counter, leaning forward to frown at Isana. “You got my number, right? Just text me and I'll hook you up. My shit's way better than his, c'mon!”

Yatogami let out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh. “This conversation is beginning to sound unsavory.” He fixed Yata with another of those level gazes. “Should you be talking about your employer in that way?”

Yata snorted derisively in response. “He already knows what I think of him.”

“He probably finds it funny, actually,” Fushimi added dryly.

Isana had joined Yatogami at the counter by that point. He reached out his hand for the packet Yata was holding, and brought it up to peer at and then sniff. “The quality is great, as always.” He smiled across the counter. “You want the usual in return?”

Yata grinned back. “You bet!”

Isana leaned back from the counter, tilting his head towards the door. “Neko!” he called out. “If you're awake, can you bring a bag of Blue Mountain beans to the front?”

“Shiro!” Yatogami shot him an annoyed look. “Don’t yell in front of the customers like that. It’s unseemly!”

“Oh, right.” Isana looked sheepish when he turned back toward them, bending his head a little as if he were the employee rather than the other way around. “Sorry, Kuroh.”

Yatogami folded his arms, looking only mildly appeased, and turned back to face Yata again. “Now then, what can I get for you to drink?”

Their dynamic is so weird. “Uh… yeah, just a regular latte.”

“Very well.” That severe gaze shifted past him. “And you?”

There wasn’t a chance for Fushimi to answer, because the back room door flung open and a young woman with silvery hair bounced into the room, proudly brandishing a small sack of coffee beans. “Shiro! I got the Blue Mountain!”

“Ah. Thank you, Neko.” Isana stepped over to the woman and patted her head affectionately, which she leaned into exactly like a cat would. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nope! I was awake already.” She happily trailed after him as he made his way back to the counter. “The dream I had last night was so great! I’ll tell you about it if you want!”

“Of course! But later, okay?” He took the bag from her, placing it on the counter before turning to smile back. “Kuroh probably wants to hear it, too – right, Kuroh?” He didn’t wait for any confirmation. “But we need to finish with the customers first.”

Yatogami shook his head, but didn’t comment. The edge of a fond but rueful smile had crept onto his stern face.

Neko glanced at the counter. “Oh, it’s just Yata.” Despite the flippant words, her voice was cheerful. “Morning!”

It felt awkward responding to all that enthusiasm somehow. Neko tended to catch him off guard still, even though he was sorta used to her by now. “R-right. Morning.”

“Is she always like this?” Fushimi commented blandly.

Neko immediately glared at him, hackles seeming to raise with instant dislike. “What’s with this… this bad-aura gloomy glasses guy?”

“Oh, right!” In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to do any introductions. Yata grinned sheepishly. “This is Fushimi.” He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “But y’know, I kinda like ‘bad-aura gloomy glasses guy’… Anyway, these guys are Yatogami, Isana, and Neko.” He shrugged. “Sorry ’bout that.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Isn’t it pointless to do introductions at this point?”

“Courtesy should always be offered when possible,” Yatogami responded strictly, and nodded. “My name is Yatogami Kuroh.”

“Ah. That’s true, isn’t it?” Isana smiled brightly. “Isana Yashiro.”

Neko narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but when Isana gave her a gentle nudge, supplied a somewhat subdued, “I’m Neko.”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

“It is! Neko is my name!” She glowered at him. “Anyway, you don’t belong here – you’re not human or a familiar!”

There was a moment of stark silence. Yata’s skin prickled up.

She can tell he’s not human?

“Neko,” Isana admonished. “Be polite.”

“Hmph!” She puffed out her cheeks childishly, and then vanished with a small huff. In her place, a tiny silver kitten streaked across the floor and nudged through the door into the back room.

Yatogami sighed, took in what sounded like a steadying breath, and glanced ruefully around at the astonished patrons watching them. “Sorry for the disturbance,” he announced. “Please try to forget it.”

“We’re just practicing for an improv act,” Isana cut in smoothly, tilting his head with a cheerful smile. “Hopefully you all were entertained!”

As the patrons relaxed and turned back to their drinks and conversation, Isana lowered his voice to an undertone. “Sorry about that.” The smile he offered Fushimi was apologetic. “Neko’s very honest, and she’ll sometimes blurt things out like that when she gets excited. Hopefully you’re not offended.”

“As you may have noticed,” Yatogami added, with a meaningful glance in the direction of the back room, “we don’t discriminate against non-humans here. As long as you don’t intend any violence.”

Fushimi shrugged, accepting both apology and clarification. “I’m just here for coffee.”

“Well, this is the right place for that!” Isana waved an arm expansively. “I’ll let Kuroh help you guys out.” He took a couple of steps back toward the door, still smiling brightly. “Call me if there’s anything you need, all right, Kuroh?”

“Not so fast.” Yatogami’s voice was sharp; his stare piercing as he directed it at his employer. “You haven’t forgotten about your promise to fix the error on the till from last night, have you?”

“What? Of course not!” Isana’s grin took on a tiny hint of strain. “I just have a few more things to take care of in the back first, and I’ll be right out to deal with that!”

Yatogami’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t forget it again.”

“I won’t, don’t worry!” Isana was already opening the door and moving through it before he’d finishing speaking. “See you later, Yata! Nice meeting you, Fushimi! Bye!”

There was an awkward pause after his departure.

Yatogami sighed again, facing them. “So one regular latte,” he noted, and glanced at Fushimi. “And what are you having?”

“Large double Americano,” Fushimi responded promptly – as if he couldn’t wait to get this all over with.

“For here or to go?”

What the hell, why not? They weren’t in any rush, considering the weather and Munakata’s seemingly infinite patience. He could work well into the evening if he had to. “We’ll drink ’em here,” Yata responded, reaching out to retrieve the sack of beans from the counter.

“Will we?” Fushimi mumbled, with clear sarcasm. “Somehow I don’t remember having that conversation.”

Yata ignored him, tucking the sack into his backpack. “Like I said, for here.”

Yatogami raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Together or separate?”

“Sep – ”

“Together,” Fushimi cut in. He materialized the credit card from the other day between his fingers when Yata turned to stare at him. “You were the one complaining about the fact that I drank the last of your coffee. I’ll pay you back right now.”

That was a tempting offer - and pretty reasonable. Yata wrestled with his pride for a moment, before deciding ‘what the hell?’ and giving in with a short nod. “Yeah, okay.”

He had to move aside as Fushimi stepped up to the counter. It gave him a bit of a weird feeling, like he’d lost control of the encounter. Something about watching Fushimi in particular pay for both of their coffees, which they were going to take to one of those cozy two-person tables and drink together, felt... funny.

There was no reason for it, but there it was.

It didn’t take Yatogami long to make their drinks and they took a table in the corner, near the window and far from the other customers in the place. Yata stowed the backpack with his umbrella and the sack of coffee beans under the table.

They’d have to stop at his apartment to drop those off before heading to Munakata’s, but that was okay; it wasn’t like he had set hours, after all. If he ended up missing out on some cash, it’d be worth it to chill out for a while.

“What makes the coffee in this place so great?” Fushimi asked him once they’d sat down. He took a small sip and added, “I’ll admit it's better than most, but...”

“They use magic.” Yata set his own mug down so it could cool. “That woman – Neko – she’s Isana’s familiar. Apparently her talent is altering reality. Kinda like your illusions, but more... I dunno... inward? Feelings and stuff." It probably wasn’t the best way to explain it, but whatever. “When she has really vivid dreams, the good feelings soak into the beans somehow. So the coffee makes you feel better.” He shrugged. “It's great for hangovers.”

“You would know, I suppose,” Fushimi murmured, a hint of a smirk tilting his lips up at the corners.

“Shut up! That was one time, okay?” Yata kicked him under the table. For some reason, the comment didn’t irritate him as much as it would’ve before. “Anyway, it’s probably the only reason we didn’t fucking kill each other back at the start.”

“That explains a lot,” Fushimi commented dryly. He set his mug down, meeting Yata’s gaze across the table. “Is there a reason you decided we were going to stay here and drink these?”

Yata shrugged again. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why that whim had struck him. “Just felt like it.”

“Hm.” Fushimi's answering hum was skeptical. He lowered his lids, another little smirk at the ready. “If you’re really that desperate for a date, you should’ve made that your contract instead.”

Date. The word hit him like a bolt of electricity, setting off a shock that rippled through his body, prickling up his skin.

Oh... fuck.

So that was where the funny feeling had come from. Yata felt a sudden fierce rush of mortification surge through him, tingling skin burning in its wake – a mix that resulted in an intensely uncomfortable sensation. Right, yeah… Fushimi had paid for them both, and now here they were in a cutesy cafe at a tiny table meant for two, which was totally date-like, and he hadn’t even realized it.

Shit…

The silence stretched on painfully as he tried to come up with some response, and then Fushimi hummed lightly, smirk widening. “Too embarrassed to admit it? That's cute.”

Yata scowled back at him, irritation seeping in through his flustered paralysis. “Shut up,” he muttered, feeling his face burn, and busied himself with his coffee to avoid that smug gaze.

The worst part of it – the part he didn’t want to admit on pain of death – was that the initial shock wasn’t unpleasant. For a second – just a tiny, stupid second – the idea of a date had felt… nice. Exciting, even.

It was infuriating – humiliating. His own brain betraying him. And because of the contract and the shared emotions, Fushimi knew it.

Goddamnit…

He was bracing himself for more teasing, scowling at the mug in his hands, but nothing came. The silence from across the table was starting to felt almost stifling as the seconds ticked by – what the hell was going on? Yata took a hasty sip of his coffee, absorbing the familiar pleasure of both taste and feeling for a bit of a boost, and set the mug down on the table before finally giving in to the urge to look up and see what Fushimi was doing.

Blue-grey eyes met his immediately and from far too close a distance for his liking. Fushimi was resting his chin on his hand, elbow braced on the table and head tilted as he studied Yata. In the instant that their gazes locked, the expression on his face was almost baffled: eyebrows knit, tiny frown on his lips, and eyes searching.

It was the look of someone struggling with a particularly difficult puzzle.

Not for the first time since they’d met, Yata found himself struck dumb, helplessly captivated by the charm of that open uncertainty. He wasn’t sure what to do with that look – wasn’t sure what he wanted to do – but something within him stirred to life all the same.

The table they were at really was way too small…

Fushimi blinked, interrupting that short moment, and then clicked his tongue, expression seeming to shutter up as he lowered his hand and turned his head. “What?” he muttered.

“Huh?” Yata stared at his profile, caught off guard by the abrupt change in mood. He shook his head to clear it and then frowned. “What d’you mean ‘what’? You were the one staring at me!”

The second click of Fushimi’s tongue was almost resentful; when he spoke again, his tone was grudging. “What do you expect when you react like that?”

Yata blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean? React like what?”

At that, Fushimi let out a breath, shut his eyes for a moment, and then turned his head again, reopening them lazily. That tiny smirk was spreading on his face again. “Figure it out for yourself,” he drawled, raising his mug for a sip. Just before bringing it to his lips, he added in a lower tone, “Misaki.”

And for some reason, just that – just the name, with the timbre and pitch of Fushimi’s voice – had heat spreading all the way across Yata’s face, to the tips of his ears.

Disgustingly, traitorously, irresistibly good.

And beyond fucked up. But in that moment, even as he protested loudly, glaring across the table with as much force as he could muster, it was hard to properly care.

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Eleven

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 11/18

Rating: R18 (explicit content)

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

A little over two weeks later, their number of charges had increased from two to… five.

It was pitiful, honestly. Not to mention frustrating. The weather had been relentless, though – for two solid weeks after the first time he brought Fushimi along for a harvest, it had either dumped rain all day or remained just cloudy enough that the sun or moon barely had a chance to peek through. It was almost like the sky was revolting against them, laughing at their helplessness in the face of its refusal to cooperate.

The past night had been the first time it had cleared up since that Sunday – and, unfortunately, that had unveiled a brand new problem.

That problem was the moon.

The last quarter moon.

With the gloomy weather, Yata hadn’t had much sense of the moon for a while, which was fine, if a little depressing. The last time they’d been out in it, the moon had been waning, which dulled the impact and made it easier to resist temptation.

This moon was waxing, and it was gonna be full soon. Which was… bad.

Time and familiarity hadn’t exactly dulled that sharp attraction he’d had to Fushimi from the start – if anything, it was worse now than it ever had been. The constant teasing didn’t help; in fact, it fueled things even more because Yata was pretty fucking sure that Fushimi was at least halfway not joking. He sometimes wondered if his own gazes were as heated and hungry as the ones he received in those moments of deliberate intensity. Every time they touched, no matter how slight or casual, the sensation was electric. They were always together, forced into proximity by the contract, and rather than easing things off due to familiarity, it felt like the tension between them heightened by the day. Things would be perfectly normal and then the slightest thing would remind him that – oh, right – sex was a thing and he kinda really wanted to do it with this guy, and his libido just wouldn’t fucking shut up.

These days, sleeping with his bedroom door shut was more about resisting temptation than any kind of self-preservation. He didn’t trust himself.

He’d been avoiding all that shit well enough, though. And then the weather had cleared...

“So…” Fushimi paused his typing, looking up from his laptop to eye Yata pointedly across the table. “Are we heading out, or are you planning to sit here and waste the whole night?”

Yata looked up from the comic he hadn’t really been reading – well, okay, he had been, but he kept losing focus and having to find his place again, so same thing – to frown back. “It’s still early.”

“The moon’s out,” Fushimi drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “The sooner we go, the less chance of cloud cover rolling in. Right?”

True, but… Ugh. Even just sitting there, Yata was hyper aware of the moonlight’s pull. Normally it was a good thing – energizing and pleasant – but right then it was just reminding him of a certain recent humiliation. “I get that! We’ll go in a bit, okay?”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “If this is about last night – ”

“Shut up about last night,” Yata cut him off, frown deepening to a scowl.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” he muttered, his eyes sharp as he watched Yata from across the table. “The only one who saw it was me. Do I have to remind you that I really don’t care?”

“That’s not the point!” Yata slammed the comic down, glaring back at him. “It’s…” He scowled, unable to come up with a good way to explain his feelings, and reached up to scratch the back of his head with agitation.

His pride had taken a hit, that was all. And yeah, it really did matter that Fushimi was the one to see it. It mattered because he’d been talking to Fushimi, not about anything sexual, but his eyes kept catching on the motions of those thin lips and the moonlight was accentuating all of his feelings, attraction and lust more than anything. He’d been so caught up in the pleasant urges swarming his body that he hadn’t even noticed their outward effect until Fushimi had looked down, lowered his lids, and offered that deadly little smirk of his.

“Not bad.”

Just remembering it had his face burning. Yata looked away, letting out a sharp ‘ch’ through the side of his mouth. He’d popped awkward boners before, but usually with his shirt on or at least some other way to hide it. And not with the cause staring right at it!

Fucking humiliating, no matter how he looked at it.

And it got even worse when he’d jerked off in the shower later. He was already having to do that every night without fail, just to relieve some of the tension that had built up, but this time he couldn’t get that look or that smirk out of his head. He hit orgasm right as Fushimi’s voice played over in his head, low and throaty and promising, and spent the next several minutes standing there in the lukewarm spray feeling physically satiated and mentally wishing fervently for death.

He was pretty sure Fushimi knew some of it – hard to hide much from him, considering their situation – but they hadn’t exactly talked about it. He’d avoided Fushimi’s gaze entirely when he’d left the bathroom and ducked immediately into his bedroom instead, closing the door. The subject hadn’t been raised at all the next morning, and they’d gone about their day as if it had never happened, even completing the third charge on the moonstone with little to no awkwardness.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy to block it out of his head.

“It’s… what?” Fushimi challenged when the silence stretched out, still with that drawling tone.

Seriously, fuck this. Yata deliberately braced his hand on the table, pushing himself up with force. “Never mind,” he snapped back, bruised pride making him tense and irritable. He deliberately avoided meeting Fushimi’s gaze. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Finally.”

It was hard not to be aware of those eyes on him as he pulled off his shirt – even harder to avoid it when casting the invisibility spell. When he took off, it was without warning, climbing over the railing just outside his apartment and jumping off recklessly. The momentum and the rush helped enormously to push that frustrating embarrassment aside.

This whole situation sucked, but at least he had some outlets.

Landing on the spot they’d discovered the previous night – a school rooftop – brought it all back again, unfortunately. The strength of the moon’s energy washed over him the instant he landed, pleasant and seductive all at once. He had to take a moment to shut his eyes, bracing himself.

If only it wasn’t so damn good…

Fushimi landed only a few minutes later, and Yata hastily retracted his wings, fumbling to pull his shirt on again. He felt way too nervous about all the exposed skin, and at least this way he’d have some sort of shield if there was a repeat of last night.

It seemed like he was the only one reacting to that awkward mood – at least on the outside – because Fushimi immediately busied himself with pulling the sunstone from his pocket and holding it out. Even before looking up, Yata could catch the sense of it beginning its sluggish absorption. It was a nice distraction, actually; they had an actual reason for being out other than just getting emotionally jerked off by moonlight.

Not that he really wanted to think about being jerked off right at that moment…

“Are you going to stand there the whole time?” Fushimi asked drily, cutting into that thought. When Yata turned, he found that Fushimi had sat with his back against the wall that lined the roof they were on, leaning against it casually as he rested his arm on his knee, palm up with the stone charging.

Somehow, it felt kinda like they were kids sneaking in outside school hours. Not that Yata had done much of that – he hadn’t had any really close friends in school – but it felt weirdly nostalgic all the same. Enough that he felt able to nudge aside some of that mood from earlier and relax enough to walk over slump down roughly a short distance away. “Right, sorry. I’m good.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing to me.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “But if it makes you feel better, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shrugged that off, avoiding turning his head to look fully at Fushimi. His goal was to keep his mind off of the tantalizing pull of the moonlight, and if he kept focusing on unrelated stuff, that’d probably be easier. Hopefully. “It’s a habit.”

Fushimi snorted. “Not that I’ve noticed, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Yata shrugged. “No reason for me to wanna apologize to you most of the time.”

He got a small, amused hum in response. “And yet, here we are.”

“Hey, I said most of the time.” He barely stopped himself from glancing over with a quick grin. Right. No looking right now. “Gimme a break here.”

“Which is why I wouldn’t call it a habit,” Fushimi responded without missing a beat. His voice was amused but lacking any kind of mockery when he added, “This is such a stupid conversation.”

“You started it,” Yata shot back, but his own grin was widening; he couldn’t help but agree.

Since when did we start chatting about dumb things like this? Casual things. Lightly bantering with no intention of winning arguments. Commenting about the smallest stuff and being able to engage with each other over it.

It was… surprisingly easy.

Fushimi offered an amused huff, but didn’t take the bait, instead falling silent. Yata let that quiet spread between them instead of trying to break it himself, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and letting his gaze settle somewhere around the door that led into the school to avoid fixing it on either Fushimi or the moon.

It felt kinda nice, just sitting together in companionable silence; if he wasn’t hyper aware of the moonlight sinking in under his skin and trying to light up his nerves, he probably would’ve enjoyed it. There wasn’t a need to say or do anything in particular; just the act of being there, the two of them in a quiet, empty world, was enough to keep any kind of loneliness at bay.

Which was… weird. It wasn’t always like this. Fushimi was always there, which was nice in some ways – not feeling lonely any more, for one – but it was seriously too much sometimes too. There were times he would’ve liked a break that wasn’t spent hiding in his bathroom or bedroom. Or just to be able to go places by himself. And with all the complaints and the grumbling, he was pretty sure Fushimi felt the same way. But on the other hand, there were moments like this, where he was just glad for the company, quiet or not.

Seriously, how long had it been since the silence between them felt comfortable rather than awkward? He couldn’t place the exact point when the change had happened.

In a way, that was kind of unnerving, but also somehow… not bad.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there letting his thoughts wander before Fushimi spoke again. “How much longer do you think this will be?”

It was a pretty common question when they were at this. Yata turned without thinking. “Let’s see…” He reached out immediately to touch the stone, realization only just hitting as he felt the hint of warmth against his side that he’d shifted into Fushimi’s personal space. Immediately, he found himself glancing up, pin-pricks of surprise scattering across his skin as those devastating eyes met his, dark and glittering in the pale light.

Desire stirred in the pit of Yata’s belly, slow and seductive but heightened by the moon’s energy to something more like a physical ache. He was close enough that he could’ve reached up to touch that fine-boned face without straining himself if he wanted to.

And, oh yeah, he wanted to. The pads of his fingers tingled at the thought of running brushing them over Fushimi’s skin, maybe letting his thumb trail deliberately across the corner of those thin lips…

Shit. Clamping down on that thought, Yata hastily shuffled back to his original spot, heart racing and cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment as he deliberately turned his gaze in front of him again. “It… yeah, it, uh, it’ll probably be done soon – like maybe a few minutes or, I dunno – ”

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply, interrupting that useless stream of words. When he spoke again, it was in a low mumble. “Are you really that determined not to get another boner in front of me?”

Yata gaped at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected bluntness of that question. “… eh?” was about all he could manage after the initial awkward moments of speechlessness.

Did he seriously just ask…?

“I’m not really sure why we’re playing this game in the first place,” Fushimi continued, his tone that mix of unconcerned and superior that tended to drive Yata up the wall. “I can feel your emotions, so it’s not like you’re hiding anything. And it’s not like I’ve never seen another man’s erect – ”

“Stop right there!” Yata blurted the words without even thinking, too mortified by this frank conversation to let it go on. “Look, fine, okay, you’ve seen some boners. Great. I’m happy for you, or something.” He heaved an agitated breath, glaring at Fushimi to cover his fit of nerves. “But do we seriously have to fucking talk about this? It was embarrassing!”

Fushimi stared back at him with unimpressed eyes. “It’s only embarrassing because you fight with yourself so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s like you constantly expect to be judged or to have some kind of ‘tough guy’ points taken away from you for your preferences. Or even your name, for that matter.” He clicked his tongue again. “Anyone who’s going to judge you on those things is worthless, so what’s the point of trying to impress them?”

Once again, Yata found himself caught speechless. He guessed all that? This was stuff he’d spent years coming to terms with, painstakingly identifying each long-held assumption and prying them loose from actual facts. For it to be summed up and stated so casually… It was jarring.

Hastily gathering his wits, Yata managed to resume his glare. “Oi… I never asked you to pull some psychology bullshit on me! Don’t just run your mouth off about shit you don’t know anything about!”

“I don’t know anything, huh?” Fushimi raised his other eyebrow, voice drawing out into a drawl. “I’ve spent nearly a month in your head, so maybe I know more than you think.” He lowered his eyebrows, letting his lids go heavy. “Let me take a guess at why you get so embarrassed whenever sex comes up: it’s because you prefer to bottom. Maybe not all the time, but most of the time. And you assume anyone who finds out is going to make some kind of assumptions about you because of it. Am I right?”

The shock that struck him at that was accompanied by a rush of sudden and fierce embarrassment. Yata floundered for a moment. “Wait – how…?”

“You’re easy to read when it comes to this.” The corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up just slightly, almost lazily. By contrast, his eyes were intent. “You admit to being gay, but you’re still ridiculously defensive about anything sex-related – the same way you are with your name. It only gets worse when the hints are more direct; the backlash I get from you makes it pretty obvious it bothers you.” He tipped his head forward, lashes veiling his eyes again. “It’s pointless, by the way. That kind of stuff doesn’t mean anything outside the bedroom.”

An unexpected little surge of surprised gratification at the last bit cut into his irritation with the rest; Yata did his best to push it down, determined not to stand down. “I know that already,” he gritted out in response, scowling back. The combination of Fushimi’s tone, expression, and intensity were awakening that halfway-stifled arousal within his body again, which was frustrating on top of everything but couldn’t be helped. “I already figured most of this shit out. I’m working on it, not that it’s any of your business.” He let out his breath sharply and muttered, “Not like I wanna share this crap with every asshole who blows into my life.”

Fushimi made a small, amused-sounding huff. “You’re already sharing most of it with me, whether you want to or not. That’s beside the point, though.” His eyes were still sharp on Yata’s face. “You know as well as I do that a girly name doesn't make you feminine somehow, magically. And you don't morph into some stereotype just for enjoying being fucked.” He made a derisive noise. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn't worth your time; you're better off weeding them out quickly.”

It still wasn't anything Yata hadn't worked out for himself – and hard as hell to put into practice; he didn't need asshole strangers judging him. But hearing Fushimi say it… It changed things. Some small, defensive reflex he hadn’t realized he’d been engaging released its hold with those words, a rush of relief surprising him with its intensity. It struck him then that he’d been cagey about those things deliberately from the start: on the defense over his name even when Fushimi hadn’t made any comment about it outside of Yata’s own reactions, and fiercely embarrassed by his own lustful fantasies. He’d expected Fushimi to judge him; to act smug and assume he’d scored a point of superiority because Yata wanted – really badly wanted – to be fucked by him.

But that had just been his assumption, based on his own prejudice and the last dregs of stubborn internal shame he couldn’t seem to shake. As usual.

That was still sinking in when Fushimi let out a huff of breath, partly amused and partly resigned. “You're so single-minded,” he murmured, eyes going lidded again as his lips quirked up. “How long were you planning to pretend I can’t feel everything you do when you get all worked up?”

That fucking expression… And the heat in his gaze… Damnit. Yata clenched his teeth harder against the pleasant shiver he couldn’t manage to repress.

Fushimi didn’t even wait for him to collect himself, drawling out, “It’s not like I mind it.” His little smirk widened further. “You should know that much by now.”

Fuck. This was getting dangerous. Yeah, of course he knew that Fushimi didn’t mind this attraction – that he’d encourage it, even – but that didn’t mean… it didn’t mean he had to… that they had to…

With the light of the moon washing over him encouragingly and his body starting to buzz with want, it was hard as hell to figure out where that thought was going. Yata swallowed despite the fact that his mouth felt suddenly dry. Fushimi looked so good, sounded even better, and it would probably be amazing to touch him. To feel that smooth skin under his hands and Fushimi’s slender fingers on his body…

Knowing that Fushimi had figured him out, and didn’t care – didn’t think of him or treat him any different…

It meant a lot. Everything. Like something within him had snapped. Yata felt loose… free, in a sense.

Every inch of him was thrumming with desire – with pleasure, the way the moonlight sank into his skin and heightened every little sensation. He was moving before he was properly aware of it, shifting closer to Fushimi, the warmth between their bodies lighting his senses on fire as his eyes honed on that deadly smile… those lips that looked so tantalizing, so kissable…

The stone in Fushimi’s hand abruptly seemed to trill, like an alarm going off, and Yata stilled, the reality of their present situation washing over him again like ice water cooling the heated moment. He was mere inches from Fushimi’s face, close enough to feel the ghost of his breath, and he couldn’t even remember leaning in that far.

Shit…

“Uh… yeah…” Pulling back and turning his head, he cleared his throat in an attempt to recover some of his equilibrium. “That. The… stone. Y’know…”

Fushimi sighed. “I know.” His voice had gone flat, but he obligingly closed his fingers around the sunstone, clicking his tongue maybe a bit more harshly than usual. “It’s fine – I’ve got it.”

Restlessness was already surging through Yata’s veins, mingling with the remaining desire that he wasn’t going to be able to shake. Maybe it was the resignation in Fushimi’s tone – or maybe the moonlight had really gotten to him. But whatever it was, he couldn’t stand to just sit there and waffle over this whole thing.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He wasn’t this indecisive normally.

Forget this. Pushing himself abruptly to his feet, Yata reached up to pull his shirt off, ignoring the fact that it left the tent in his shorts totally exposed.

Fushimi was right about that – who fucking cared? Who the hell did he think he was fooling?

Only himself, obviously.

When he glanced over, Fushimi was hastily pushing himself up as well, staring at Yata in perplexity. “What are you doing?”

There was an obvious bulge in the front of his pants as well, Yata couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it had been there last night too and he was just so wrapped up in his own insecurity that he hadn’t bothered to look. The thought – and the clear reality in front of him – sent another lustful little shudder through his body.

Nice…

Shrugging that aside, Yata grinned back, tucking his shirt into his pants and drawing out his wings smoothly. “Gonna take a flight.” He met Fushimi’s narrowing eyes with a heated look of his own. “We never did race, huh? Well, try and catch me – if you think you can.”

Without leaving any time for a reaction, he raised his wings and brought them down hard to push himself up and gain altitude, flapping quickly a few times to put distance between them and gain momentum.

Honestly, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing – this was just blindly following his instincts, caving in to that restless energy that it felt like his body couldn’t contain. With the moon’s light beating down on him, refreshing all of the pleasant feelings that coursed through his veins, he couldn’t resist the urge to laugh out loud.

This is seriously the best! He hadn’t felt this good – this free – in a long time.

Who cared about any of that small stuff, anyway?

That Fushimi was following right after him, he didn’t doubt. Not only because of the contract, either. In the time they’d known each other, he’d learned a thing or two. Fushimi couldn’t resist a challenge any more than he could, even if he reacted differently to it. And he was relentless when he set his mind to something. Which was… an enticing thought. In more ways than one.

Without noticing, he’d somehow aimed for his own apartment. With adrenaline still lighting his nerves on fire, Yata landed clumsily in front of his door, drawing in his wings as he fumbled with the lock and burst through – not even bothering to lose his shoes as he stumbled into the kitchen. Another breathless laugh bubbled up at the back of his throat and he braced himself on the counter with both hands, leaning forward heavily as he collected himself.

Except that there wasn’t going to be time for that.

A warm body pressed against his from behind before he could begin to sort out his thoughts, hands settling on his hips. “Caught you,” Fushimi drawled, his mouth so close to Yata’s ear that the heat of his breath teased at it.

The shiver that ran through Yata in response was involuntary but not unwelcome. Through the fog of desire clouding his brain, he recognized that Fushimi’s hold wasn’t exactly restrictive. If he wanted to, he could break free pretty easily.

If he wanted to…

The acceptance that had him tilting his head to the side to allow access must have been processed by Fushimi in the exact same moment, because he let out a shuddery breath, burying his face in the crook of Yata’s neck as his hands slid around to fumble with the fastening of his shorts.

Fuck. This was really happening. Yata bit back what was probably an embarrassing noise, reaching up to blindly brush his fingers against the side of Fushimi’s jaw. The skin held the very faint prickle of stubble, but it was mostly smooth and slightly clammy from the earlier exertion. When he moved his hand back and brushed Fushimi’s hair, it was softer than he’d expected.

Feels nice…

Fushimi had made quick work of his shorts, sliding them down off of Yata’s hips once the fly was open. One of his hands reached immediately down to cup the aching bulge in Yata’s underwear through the fabric, giving it a little squeeze.

The initial contact was like lightning. Yata couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him, fingers curling against Fushimi face. His other hand gripped the edge of the counter as sensation coursed through him.

He could feel as much as hear the pleased answering hum against his neck. Fushimi’s other hand rested on his abdomen, pulling him back so their bodies were flush. The feeling of warm, bare skin and the light echo of Fushimi’s heartbeat against his back had another shudder wracking his body, an involuntary sound escaping him as Fushimi thumbed the wet spot at the head of his dick. The unmistakable press of something hot and hard against his lower back fed into the pleasure, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

Fucking good, and they’d barely started.

The pressure on his dick was short-lived; those graceful fingers slid free, gripping the elastic of his underwear in order to drag it down over and below his erection, leaving it gathered at the top of his thighs. Yata shifted to make it easier, deliberately leaning forward against the counter to lift his ass and press it back against Fushimi's body.

He could feel the sharp inhalation against his neck, but more than that, his attention was on the unmistakable press of skin against skin – the slick, hot glide of Fushimi’s cock against the crack of his ass. It drew another involuntary noise from his throat even before Fushimi’s hand was on him again, his skin prickling with pleasure and anticipation as fantasies started to form sharply in his mind.

It was almost possible to feel it: that hard length pressing inside him, stretching him out, hitting all those points that begged to be stimulated... Yata bit his lip, failing to suppress a moan as Fushimi’s fingers curled around him again, the stark relief of pressure on his dick hitting him even harder with the possibilities so clear in his mind. Fuck, he wanted it. He wanted to see what Fushimi’s face looked like in pleasure, to hear all the sounds he was suppressing now, to feel their bodies join.

It wasn't happening now, that much was for sure; there wasn't time for any kind of prep with their current pace. He could already feel the world around him starting to melt as sensation and urgency overtook him; the quickening of Fushimi's breath and the jerkiness of his motions signaled that he was at a similar point.

This is gonna be fast... No helping it, though. He was so wound up he couldn't have held back if he wanted to.

Those longer fingers cupped Yata's balls, squeezing lightly and causing him to jerk at the influx of pleasure. He couldn't help the little “ah” that escaped him, followed by a gasp as Fushimi slid his hand up and gripped the base of his dick, finally giving it a firm, practiced stroke and deftly thumbing the tip. At the same time, he thrust against Yata's backside, his own hot erection sliding into the cleft and generating slick friction.

Oh, fuck... The length of Fushimi's dick brushed dangerously close to his entrance, causing Yata to twitch and groan, body tensing at the dual stimulation from that and the hand working his cock over. Fushimi let out another of those appealing little whines, bending forward to press closer to him again. “Misaki,” he breathed against Yata’s neck, sounding almost desperate.

His first name had never sounded so amazing. Yata was unprepared for the extra surge of arousal it sent through him. Damn…

His thoughts were splintering, all of his focus going to the points where their bodies touched. He could feel Fushimi’s breath hot and frenzied against his neck, tiny little moans escaping as he began to thrust in earnest, chasing his own pleasure even as his hand began to move in tandem.

It was too much – too good. Yata felt the telltale urgency building fast in his gut and didn't even bother to fight it, reaching back again to clench his fingers in Fushimi’s hair as he approached his climax, thrusting as much as he was able to against that devilish double hold.

When he reached the peak, it was explosive; shuddering pleasure wracked his body and he didn't bother to hold in the cry that escaped him, releasing into Fushimi’s hand and clenching back instinctively against his dick. Through the rush of mindless relief, he felt the vibration of Fushimi’s answering moan just before teeth clamped hard on his neck, drawing out the moment with a mix of pleasure and pain.

Shit... shit... Yata could barely think. He leaned heavily against the counter, panting, as his body processed the additional stimulation.

It was only a few more thrusts before he felt Fushimi follow, thin body trembling violently as his cock twitched, spilling onto Yata’s lower back. It was deliciously erotic to feel that release against him; Yata had another helpless, pleasant shiver overtake him in the aftermath. Fushimi let out a low whimper against his neck, mouth hot and wet against the sting of the bite he'd inflicted.

There was a short pause while they caught their breath and came down from the high.

In the immediate aftermath, Fushimi slumped over him, almost going boneless against Yata’s back as his cock started to soften. His fingers slid free, both hands hovering kind of awkwardly around Yata’s hips as if hesitant to wrap around him.

It was… strangely nice. The hint of vulnerability was endearing. Yata couldn’t help but smile slightly, deliberately sliding his fingers free of Fushimi’s hair and flexing them to ease the stiffness.

It was kinda weird… He’d just given into the impulse and hadn’t considered a lot of things. Like they weren’t exactly safe; Fushimi’s dick had been all over his ass without a damn condom or anything. As much as he was pretty sure he wasn’t gonna get any kinda STD, it was way more careless than he usually was with this shit. He’d never lost his head so much that he hadn’t even considered it. And they’d done it in the kitchen, which was sorta gross – normally he wouldn’t wanna fuck anywhere near where he did his food prep and casting. Plus, Fushimi was still kind of an asshole and they hadn’t even confirmed that they were friends really, much less… this. Whatever it was.

But despite all of that – all the really good reasons why this was probably a huge mistake – he couldn’t bring himself to feel any kind of regret.

That had just been… well… damn good. Worth it.

As if sensing the good mood and determined to spoil it, Fushimi pulled back languidly, letting out a long breath as he separated them. “What kind of foreplay was that? ‘Come and catch me’ – really?”

“Heh.” The smile grew to a grin. Yata reached down to pull up his underwear, grimacing a little as he pieced his clothing together over his gross, sticky skin. It would’ve felt too weird to stay naked until he could clean himself off privately at that point, though, so he’d have to put up with it. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Anything would’ve worked by that point.” Fushimi’s voice was back to that drawl again, but there was a note of satisfaction in it. He offered what looked like an honest smile when Yata turned to meet his gaze, eyes glittering in the dim light behind his glasses. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shook his head, letting out a rueful huff and reaching up to rub at the sore point on his neck. “You really do bite, huh?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids. He’d fixed his pants but not bothered to cover his bare torso, and Yata felt a certain appreciation – not just for the view, but also for the fact that he didn’t have to be half-naked on his own right after they’d got each other off. “You didn’t seem to mind,” he murmured.

Fuck. That tone and gaze combination were still as dangerous as ever. In his relaxed state, though, Yata found himself going heavy lidded in response, grin widening into a smirk. “Didn’t say I did.”

That seemed to click; at least, he instinctively thought they had a moment of understanding with the way something shifted in the gaze that met his. Then Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a soft, amused huff. “We should clean up.”

“Right.” It wasn’t too jarring to break out of that mood. And his skin felt gross, so yeah, he definitely wanted to clean it. Yata shrugged off the weariness that had started to weigh on him with his orgasm. “I’ll shower first.”

“You’re not a very good host.”

“Screw you – I’m the one with your jizz on my back. You can fucking wait.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time…”

“That was in the moment, dumbass!”

It wasn’t so bad, Yata figured, bantering lightly with Fushimi as he grabbed his clothes. Things weren’t awkward or anything, even after they’d fucked. He felt sorta optimistic about the situation – satisfied with the way things had been left with that amazing orgasm out of the way. Now they’d done it, so that was that.

Maybe now things will cool off between us for a while, huh?

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Thirteen

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 13/18

Rating: R18 (explicit content)

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

He didn’t wake up until past noon the next day, and when he did, his body was sore in places he didn’t even think he’d known about. Yata groaned a little as he transitioned from blissful oblivion to awareness, not quite ready to open his eyes, and tried to shift.

There was something pinning him in place – a warm something. Actually, a warm, moving something. There was a soft, amused hum almost right next to his ear, followed by a low murmur of, “That’s a nice sound.”

Right… That was why his ass felt so goddamn sore.

Not that he was complaining. Yata cracked an eye open partway, taking in the blurred outline of Fushimi’s face on the pillow next to his. “Morning,” he mumbled, feeling a bit more awake.

It was somehow relaxing to wake up like that, squished onto his bed with an attractive lover who’d blown his mind last night with some amazing sex. They’d ended up like that by choice too, not really talking about the logistics after cleaning up and instead just climbing into bed together without even bothering to put shirts on and passing out almost instantly.

Well… he had passed out almost instantly. He wasn’t sure about Fushimi.

Does that guy even actually sleep?

He seemed rested enough at least, considering he’d moved on to nibbling Yata’s ear, and his fingers were toying with the waistband of Yata’s underwear. The message was loud and clear.

And… despite how thoroughly they’d taken care of this last night, not at all unwelcome.

Yata allowed himself a small, rueful smile and a quiet huff. “Didn’t you get enough last night?” He shifted a bit, rolling onto his side so that they could face each other fully.

Fushimi offered him a lazy smirk in response. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and that plus his mussed hair made him look a bit different. Still hot as ever, but the new look was more of a lived-in, casual sort that made Yata’s heart start to race for no particular reason. “You’re already hard,” he murmured, taking the move as the permission it was and sliding his hand down to palm the hard lump of Yata’s morning erection through his underwear.

Yata shut his eyes, moaning appreciatively at the pleasurable touch.  “You started it,” he mumbled back. “Anyway, s’not what I asked.”

“It was enough then.” Fushimi slid his fingers around and down, tracing the outline of Yata’s balls through the fabric. “But this is now.”

He didn’t have an answer for that, and he was already feeling too good to want to waste time arguing. Yata settled for a gruff, “Right,” and arched forward obligingly into Fushimi’s touch.

They hadn’t quite used up all of his condoms last night, but they’d come close, and he’d even used one of them himself. By the time they had their final round in the shower, he was feeling sore – it had been a long time since his ass had seen any kind of activity, much less multiple rounds in one night – and so he’d fucked Fushimi against the tiled wall instead. Which had been a nice way to finish things off. After being so thoroughly worked over, it felt great to be on the other side of it. And Fushimi’s reactions were just as sexy as when he was on top, so he’d obviously enjoyed it too.

Hell, everything about last night was great…

Indulging his preferences so precisely was new actually, now that he thought about it. Yata didn’t really care for the expectation of bottoming for a partner every single time even if he wanted to most of the time, so most of his – short-lived – relationships were with guys who liked to switch. Pretty much all of them were interested in keeping things even in terms of how many times they took on either role, which meant compromise. He was okay with it, and would’ve been fine if that was what Fushimi had wanted, too. But considering how eager he’d been to repeatedly fuck Yata the past night, it didn’t seem to be. And he’d been enthusiastic enough about bottoming in the shower too, so it wasn’t like he had any of those annoying expectations.

Despite being an asshole in a lot of other ways, it seemed like Fushimi was just a really generous lover.

Also a really eager one, seeing as how he’d already parted the front flap on Yata’s underwear and pulled his dick from its confines. Yata let out a low, clipped groan as those clever fingers stroked him, body responding honestly to the pleasant stimulation.

Fuck, he’d had so much of this last night… Should it have been this easy to get him riled up now?

Who fucking cares. It felt good, and that was all that mattered in the moment. Letting out a little growl from deep in his throat, Yata surged up to capture Fushimi’s lips. He reached out in the same moment, roughly pulling him in by the hip so that their bodies came into contact. The hard length of Fushimi’s erection brushed his, amplifying his arousal, and he opened his mouth to bring their tongues into play, reveling in the damp heat that resulted.

Fushimi moaned with obvious approval against his mouth, opening his hand to allow their cocks to rub together with more freedom and thrusting into the contact. The damp head of his dick slid against Yata’s abdomen, hot and slick, and Fushimi’s body shuddered in reaction. Encouraged, Yata reached down to join his fingers with Fushimi’s, clumsily forming a makeshift circle around their erections as they moved sinuously against each other in search of that delicious friction.

It was crazy just how compatible their bodies seemed to be. Here they were, just like last night, going with the flow of things and what felt good – and everything seemed to… click into place.

At least this much was easy between them.

He definitely wasn’t dwelling on the complicated things in a moment like this, though. Yata let his mind empty, focusing on the pleasure, and it wasn’t much longer before he was releasing into their joined hands, a little moan on his lips and shuddering sensation rocking through his body. Fushimi followed not long after, trembling and flushed, mumbling Yata’s first name almost like a prayer as their kiss broke.

They lay panting in the aftermath for a few seconds afterwards, and as Yata’s mind and vision started to clear up again, he took the opportunity to study his bedmate.

As he was, Fushimi didn’t look much like a demon; disheveled and sweaty, face still flushed from the early morning exertion and lips swollen from kissing. He could’ve been someone Yata had met at a bar or on a dating site and liked well enough to bring home with him.

Hell, if he had done that… If there was no inconvenient contract and this was just a normal hook-up…

If that had been the case, then… from here, maybe…

A tiny ache was forming in his chest, and he couldn’t quite place where it was coming from. Yata furrowed his eyebrows, frowning a bit as he tried to piece together the source of that confusing feeling. It was like he was right on top of it; if he just reached a bit further…

Fushimi squinted at him then clicked his tongue and pushed himself up on one elbow, materializing a pair of glasses so he could eye Yata skeptically. “Why are you staring like that?” He raised an eyebrow, corners of his lips edging up. “Want another round already?”

Yata snorted. “Yeah, and then we’d never get out of bed. I’ll pass for now.” He shrugged off the earlier thoughts, pushing himself to sit up somewhat gingerly and grimacing as he noticed the sticky mess on the sheets. He was gonna have to change them – again – and if this kept up he’d probably be doing laundry way more often. “I pretty much already missed work, and we wanna try to grab another charge today, right?”

“If you say so,” Fushimi drawled in response, sitting up languidly. “It’s not like I care either way.”

That’s new. “Heh. Weren’t you the one who wanted to stay up all night getting this done?” Yata had stood – only a little bit shaky on his feet – with the intention of getting a clean outfit from his drawers, but he turned at that, offering a smirk. “What happened to ‘no excuses’, huh?”

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but something in Fushimi’s expression seemed almost wary. He offered another of those lazy smirks, drawing out his words as usual, but it felt different in a way that Yata couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Sex doesn’t count as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure.” That brought something back to the front of his mind, though. Yata frowned a little, feeling awkward about bringing it up. “Hey… so, you already figured out… y’know… the shit that I like.” He wasn’t sure why it was so damn hard to say ‘being fucked’ when they’d done it so many times the night before, but whatever. “What about you? Don’t you have a preference or – ?”

“Not really.” Fushimi cut him off, his tone flippant as usual. He got up from the bed gracefully, stretching, and Yata was momentarily distracted by the fact that he hadn’t bothered to materialize any underwear. It was… not a bad view. “I’m flexible. Though if you want to talk about preferences…” His smirk widened, eyes going lidded as he picked up on Yata’s lingering gaze. “I’d say, anything that makes it so that you can’t stop thinking about” – there was a pause, almost unnoticeable – “it.”

Yata bit back a shiver, still somehow finding himself transfixed even after being thoroughly satisfied physically. “R-right.” He swallowed, letting that dizzying wave of attraction run its course before adding a bit roughly, “Well, if there’s something you wanna do or whatever, just say so. I can be flexible too, y’know.”

Fushimi hummed, low and amused. “I noticed that last night.”

A vivid memory of being bent over himself with his knees braced on Fushimi’s shoulders as he was penetrated at just the right angle to hit his prostate came rushing back; Yata felt heat rising fast on his shoulders and neck, and quickly turned to yank his drawer open, scowling. “That’s not what I meant, goddamnit!”

“Mmhm.” Fushimi brushed past him, close enough so that they made contact and Yata’s skin prickled pleasantly in reaction. “I’m using the bathroom first.”

Of course he was. “Sure.”

It was still well before sunset when they were ready to head out, and the weather was holding – Yata was kinda hoping that was a sign the rainy season was over. Not only because it mean they’d be able to finish what they were doing more easily, but because tomorrow was –

Oh. Right.

“By the way,” he started, pulling on his shoes, “I forgot to mention, tomorrow's no good for charging.” To Fushimi’s questioning look, he explained, “I gotta be at Homra all day and late into the night. It's the solstice.”

“Seriously?” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “You're just mentioning this now?”

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be around this long, okay? Anyway, I forgot.” Yata shrugged it off. “I got a lot on my mind lately.”

"So I noticed." Fushimi’s tone was dry. “What does your coven do for solstice anyway?”

“Fire ritual.” It was one of the things he looked forward to every year. “We do it out by where my garden is, so I usually head out early to start getting stuff ready and everyone meets me out there. We light the bonfire just as the sun’s going down.”

“The usual, then.” Fushimi let out a short sigh, seeming resigned, and then gave him another of those inscrutable gazes. “We only have four charging points left anyway, so it won’t be much longer after this.”

Only four... He’d been keeping track of the number, but now that he thought about it, that really wasn’t much. Two days and two nights – and then they could null the contract and go their separate ways.

The thought gave him a funny feeling – he wasn’t sure entirely what, but it sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, as if weighing him down. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't quite place it. Just a general sense of... restlessness? Discomfort? It was confusing. “Right,” he agreed gruffly to cover the moment. “So what’s next, anyway?”

“Two options for now.” Fushimi materialized his laptop, open in front of him. He held it one-handed, manipulating the mousepad with the other. “One would be the point we found yesterday, and the other...” He shot a little sideways glance at Yata. “I'm guessing you know it.”

Right, that. He'd almost forgotten about it with everything else that was going on, but there was still that location that was meant to be personal to him. The discomfort he’d felt earlier grew to more of a gnawing sense of unease. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t like he hated the place, exactly... More like he had a mix of both good and bad memories, but a lot of it was more painful to think about than anything. He wasn’t gonna be able to repress that – hell, he couldn’t even hold it back now, just talking about it – which meant he’d be sharing it, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea.

The thought of showing more of his weakness to Fushimi gave him another of those odd feelings. It wasn’t like it had been at the beginning. More like... he was anxious. Not so much about getting that shit aired, or even the invasion of his privacy, but… well…

If he broke it down, what he was really anxious about was having to put this on Fushimi. He hadn’t exactly signed up for it. What the hell was he gonna think if Yata kept dumping his baggage on him?

“I don’t mind, if that's what you’re worried about.” When he shook off his thoughts, Fushimi was giving him a searching look. He glanced away when Yata met his gaze, deliberately focusing on the screen of his laptop as his voice lowered to a mumble. “Either way, we’ll have to do mine tonight.”

Oh yeah. That was right, it wasn’t just him – Fushimi had a place that was significant to him in some way too. Yata still wasn’t sure why – if he couldn’t come to this realm without a contract, then how had he formed memories here? – but it made sense they’d have to go there next if there were only two moon charging points left. One was gonna be Munakata’s place and they were supposed to do it last, so there wasn’t any more searching or planning to do at all.

Tonight, then. The thought gave him a tiny surge of something like excitement. Fushimi had been an enigma from day one, and it was hard as hell to learn to read him, even if Yata thought he’d picked up a thing or two by that point. He was secretive and evasive, and he barely dropped anything about his personal life if he could help it. Yata couldn’t help being curious; if there was something at this place that might give him a clue about what was in Fushimi’s head, he was all for it.

But as far as sun charging points went… Yata tilted his head, frowning a bit as he thought it over.

He wasn’t totally sure what to make of the reaction in front of him; in the first place, he wasn’t great at reading Fushimi’s expressions – and the hunched posture was the same as usual. If he was going purely on that, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

But…

Going with his instincts was always best. Yata straightened. “Then we’ll hit up mine today too.” He grinned when Fushimi glanced at him. “Get ’em both out of the way, right?”

He could tell right away it was the right move; for a brief instant, Fushimi’s eyes widened, expression almost charmingly startled. He blinked twice, staring at Yata with something that looked a lot like the bewilderment he’d shown a couple times in the past, and then seemed to recover, looking away again with a frown and clicking his tongue. “Whatever you say.”

Not honest at all. Yata was starting to find it cute, in a vaguely frustrating sort of way. He shook his head, still grinning. “Right, let’s go, then!”

It wasn’t far to fly, mainly because it wasn’t all that far from Homra. One of the reasons Yata had picked his current apartment was because it was also pretty close to his coven’s headquarters, so by proxy this place wasn’t a long way to go from where he lived either. They were still completely separate neighborhoods, though, and despite both being residential districts, there was a different feel to them. His current place was close enough to the entertainment district to be generally more adult; kids weren’t playing on the street, and there weren’t any schools or playgrounds in the area. Their destination was more like Jungle’s home turf – or rather, the family housing area that flanked it.

That was why he’d mentioned Jungle being like the place he lived when he was little. Because it was like this place.

At the end of one block, there was an apartment complex – only three stories, with about five or so small income housing units on each floor intended mostly for young families and couples. Yata flew right to it without bothering to check any of the other buildings in the area, landing on the roof with confidence and raising his face toward the sun without any surprise as the energy increased in intensity. He retracted his wings immediately and pulled on his shirt, closing his eyes against the wave of nostalgia that struck as he took note of his surroundings and letting that warm light relax him.

Back here again… He really had mixed feelings.

Still, he wasn’t flaking out – as Fushimi landed behind him, he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket, drawing out the moonstone and holding it up to expose it to the familiar, comforting power of the sun beating down on them.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Fushimi spoke. “You lived here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Yata shot him a rueful half-grin. “Kinda thought you’d guess.”

“It doesn’t take much,” Fushimi murmured, meeting his gaze for just long enough to acknowledge it before turning to glance around curiously.

The weather was good and it was after school hours, which meant kids were out playing, gathered mostly on the small playground in front of the elementary school across the street. There were smaller groups of older kids clustered on the sidewalks and in corners of the school grounds, but most of their noise was lost in the unmoderated voices of the younger ones.

The neighborhood was still as active as ever, even if there was obviously no one he’d recognize. Yata felt the familiarity strike him as he followed Fushimi’s gaze, almost dizzying. When he’d lived here it had been on the third floor, so the view out the window was nearly the same as this. It didn’t have to be the same kids outside to feel like deja-vu.

“Misaki, if you go out, you have to promise me…”

Yata blinked, shaking his head against the sudden, vivid memory of his mother’s voice. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but she’d been really anxious. When he was a kid, it hadn’t registered, but now… Yeah, he could see how hard it was, trying to give him as much of a normal life as she could without alerting others to his… nature. A tiny lump rose at the back of his throat, the remnants of that nearly forgotten hurt surfacing along with it.

“Why would you even think about keeping him? The kid is a fr – ”

“Don’t you dare say another word!”

“Damn,” he muttered, reaching up with his free hand to rub the back of his neck. Even now, he wasn’t sure why it was so much easier to remember the painful stuff than all the good moments he’d had here, living with just his mom. Hell, he’d even met Kamamoto here, a friend he’d reconnected with later and relied on to this day. And he sure hadn’t thought much about the bad shit when he was little.

But now somehow, it was only the things he’d brushed off then that stuck with him.

Like that shithead’s voice…

Fushimi stepped up beside him, silent for once in the face of Yata’s fervent emotions. Even his gaze was turned away, as if he had a sense of any scrutiny being unwelcome in the moment. When Yata glanced at him, looking for a distraction, he was standing with a slight hunch, noticeably awkward, but without any indication of annoyance. His expression was placid and even, almost bored, but it was possible to see the keen spark in his eyes as he surveyed their surroundings. Regardless of how he wanted to appear, he was taking everything in.

Maybe this situation wasn’t the most comfortable for him, but he was there – actively engaged and not just physically present. That said something.

Yata couldn’t stop the little surge of appreciation, lips curling up despite his earlier mood, and it was enough to draw Fushimi’s gaze to him, along with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yata shook his head, letting out a wry huff. “Just… I’m glad you’re here. Or something.” Not wanting to leave that assertion hanging on its own, he quickly went on. “I lived here with my mom ’til I was seven. It wasn’t bad or anything, just… I was a kid, y’know?” He reached up to scratch the back of his head, agitated. “First time I brought my wings out, I was like three.” Drawing in a breath, he added, “I didn’t really… get why it was bad. You know how kids are.” Shrugging awkwardly, he pulled another rueful smile. “Mom was always double checking that I wouldn’t do it in public. But she still let me play outside all the time – I think she just wanted me to feel normal, even if I wasn’t.”

Fushimi made a soft hum of acknowledgement. “If you were anything like you are now, she probably just wanted you to use up your energy.”

The unexpectedly pragmatic response startled an amused huff out of him. “Yeah, fuck you too,” Yata responded without any resentment, jabbing out an elbow lightly at the arm closest to him. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You ‘weren’t’, huh?” Fushimi offered him a lazy smile in response. “Does that mean you’re worse now than you were as a seven-year-old?”

“Quit being a prick!” Yata elbowed him again harder, but grinned sharply back all the same. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Fushimi agreed easily. “For the record, I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Asshole.” It was almost a term of endearment by that point. Yata shook his head. “Anyway, in case you’re wondering, mom remarried and we moved somewhere else when I was seven. I got a brother and sister who are a lot younger than me. They’re – y’know – normal. Human.” He shrugged again, finding it a bit harder to keep it casual. “They don’t know about me. Mom never asked, but I just… stopped. Never brought my wings out again, until Homra.”

He paused there, not sure how much he wanted to unload, and a little surprised by how strong the urge to just go ahead with it was. It had to be something about the mood. In a weird way, now that they were at this point, some of that reluctance to burden Fushimi with it had gone. He kinda wanted to share it.

Maybe if I do, he’ll trust me with his past, too.

That was a good enough motivator right there. “Actually, my real dad lived here too, back then. Like, the three of us lived together. I don’t remember a lot about it.” A face red and contorted with anger and fear popped into his head, mouth moving around that one word. After the first time, his mom had always stopped it partway through.

Freak.

Yata shut his eyes, swallowing back the little ache. It shouldn’t have affected him after all this time – hell, it hadn’t at the time – and still… “He wanted to get rid of me. Dunno how. I mean, I was registered and all. He hated the wings, though.” He felt his mouth curl into a sneer. “Not being normal really pissed him off or something. Anyway” – he shrugged again, trying to dismiss the inexplicable hurt – “they argued all the time, until one day he stopped showing up. Never saw him again.”

Fushimi didn’t say anything. When Yata opened his eyes again, checking, he found himself being regarded silently, without expression. It was oddly comforting.

Made it easier to continue, too. “After that it was just me and mom. I didn’t mind it. I mean, as a kid you don’t really get it, right? I didn’t figure most of this shit out until I was older.” Another shrug, and as much of a grin as he could summon. “I was, what, four? Obviously no one was more important than my mom.”

“‘Obviously’,” Fushimi repeated slowly, as if to himself. His eyes were strangely distant. He shook his head when Yata shot him a curious look, a slightly sardonic smile on his lips. “Never mind. Go on.”

“Right.” Shoving down his questions – there was a chance he’d find out later, hopefully – Yata nodded and continued. “So I figured it’d always be like that, just me and her. Then my stepdad showed up.” He couldn’t help the way his mouth quirked at that, not exactly pleasantly.

Not that his stepdad was a bad guy – actually, he was a really good guy, and somehow that had made it worse. Even at six years old, he’d at least gotten a sense that the little world he and his mom had with just the two of them wasn’t as good as what a new husband – a new family – could offer her.

“After they got married and they had my brother, things got weird. Not really bad – like my family’s pretty cool and all – but they’re a real family, all of them related and everything. All of them normal.” It was the first time he’d even started to wonder why the hell he was different when everyone else was the same. Yata looked away from Fushimi, frowning down at the street instead. “It started to feel like even though my real dad was an asshole, he mighta had a point. It probably would’ve been better for my mom if she didn’t have me.” He let out another huff, this one humorless, and attempted again to shrug off the residual ache. “At least, it would’ve been easier.”

There was a stark moment of silence between them as those words hung in the air.

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply, breaking it before there was time to wallow in those feelings. “You know,” he mumbled, meeting Yata’s gaze when he turned, “there’s something I had to learn after the Captain hired me.” His lips quirked, a hint of annoyance reaching his features. “It’s something he’d probably say actually, but it’s still worth thinking about.” The dry tone eased off into something a little more serious as he added, “The easier path isn’t necessarily the best one to take.”

Yata blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. “R-right,” he managed, after a beat.

It wasn’t so much the sentiment – although it was a little jarring to apply it in this context; he’d never really thought of his mom’s feeling in that sense – but the fact that Fushimi had said he’d had to learn it. The similarity to his own struggle in the past years was a little too striking to ignore; he’d come to the same conclusion regarding his own situation, after the weight of all the years he had in front of him had started to feel crushing and oppressive.

Easier would’ve meant still not taking his mom’s calls. Distancing himself from Homra completely. Giving up on going out or looking for connections. Resigning himself to being alone, since everyone he cared about would die again and again before he finally followed. Never bothering to trust, because of how easily it could’ve blown up in his face.

“I don’t want a goddamn freak for a kid – are you kidding me?”

He didn’t think there was any part of him that would’ve considered taking that easy path, not for a second.

Maybe she felt the same way. There was a sting behind his eyes; Yata blinked a few times to hold it at bay, and then gave up and lifted his free hand to scrub at his face, brushing aside the traitorous moisture. “Heh!” The word came out thick, but he didn’t bother to worry about it, offering a real smile. “I figured that one out too, but thanks for the reminder.”

Fushimi’s lips quirked a little in response, not quite a smile. “I didn’t do anything special.” He turned his gaze, looking a bit awkward about it. “You don’t have to be grateful when all I’m doing is reminding you of things you already know.”

“Yeah, well, still.” Somehow, that little frown made his heart skip a beat. It was sorta cute, maybe. “S’not really about what you said. More like, you listened to me seriously. It helped a lot.” The smile on his face widened. “So just accept the thanks already!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, but finally allowed that tiny smile to overtake him, eyes shutting briefly. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up” – he turned to meet Yata’s gaze again, one eyebrow raised – “you’re welcome.”

Yata shook his head, the grin on his face not slipping. “Jerk.”

The light hum he got in response sounded almost like music to his ears.