Work Text:
Seiji tossed the can he had between his hands. “Kokko!! Carbonated Chicken Soup” — how vile.
Akira would love this.
As soon as Seiji saw the can in the vending machine at the train station, he knew he had to buy it for his best friend. After being on a week long “business trip” in Hokkaido, no contact allowed with anyone, this little habit the two of them shared was very welcomed.
Especially after how… messy the affair became.
Because of course Seiji had to be the one to bash some reason into that slimy traitor. With no phone. And no Akira.
But no matter! That was finally done with.
He texted Akira right as he left the train station, sneaking away and leaving his luggage for his lackeys to deal with.
hey buddy! back from up north. (´ ∀ ` *)
got some time to meet? I may or may not have a gift for you ~
(･ω<)☆
ok.
after work tho.
It would be around that time now, wouldn’t it? Seiji knew Akira’s schedule well enough by now, which meant he also knew the route he took. He could intercept Akira before he went in for his shift. Maybe make him a few minutes late in the process.
Just a little further down the dingy, booze-covered alley and… Bingo! Target acquired, in all of his stupid, brutish glory at the end of the walkway. Seiji got ready to call out his usual greeting, except-
Who is that with Akira?
Black gothic lolita getup, bobbed hair, easily identifiable as Kaoru Hazuki.
Walking way too closely to Akira.
Giving Akira a hug before trotting off like an idiot.
Akira doesn’t hug people.
Oh. Oh okay. So that’s how it was.
The flaring anger was instant. The volcanic rage threatening to erupt from Seiji was swift and unquestionable. His teeth ground together hard enough to make him tremble. If his fists clenched any harder, his bones would have shattered from the force.
He truly couldn’t turn his back for one second without someone trying to put a knife in it, huh?
Seiji could kill him. He could kill him and the bitch. He could have Kaoru and her stupid hat buried in the outskirts of Tokyo in hours. He could have Akira strung up in the basement beaten within an inch of his life like it was little league batting practice and then have his fingers in a box on the family mantle.
Or, he could let this rage out on Akira’s apartment and wreak havoc before he comes home. Then he could get creative with revenge.
Settled on a decision, he spun on his heel and sprinted back down the alley toward the apartment. It was a short enough distance, not that he needed to pay attention to where he was going. He knew the way like the back of his hand. Seiji had spent enough time at the tiny residence – despite finding it cheap and grimy – to be able to call it his home away from home.
Though, he supposed, it wouldn’t matter soon anyway.
Finally reaching the front door, Seiji doubled over and tried desperately to catch his breath. Athletics was never his strong suit. Why did he bother sprinting in the first place? He had plenty of time to do his bidding, it wasn’t like he was on a time crunch. He chalked it up to the wrath boiling his brain. A few minutes went by before he felt good enough to continue on his mission, so with a sigh he dug out his tools and made quick work picking the lock to Akira’s apartment. The motions were so practiced, so familiar, Seiji almost felt comfortable.
If there wasn’t such a heavy pit in his gut.
Seiji kicked the door shut behind him once inside, narrowing his eyes as he glanced around the small living space. Nothing was out of place, but in a way that felt wrong. It was too clean. The countertops in the kitchen were sparkling. The trash was recently taken out. His fucking bed was made. Akira didn’t clean up this nicely. Unless someone else did it. Unless someone was trying to cover up something. His fist clenched again.
The sound of crunching aluminum reminded Seiji of the object in his hand.
The stupid drink for Akira.
Stupid Akira.
Liquid exploded against the wall, pressurized broth splashing everything around it, as the can split from the force of Seiji throwing it. He vaguely remembered letting out a raged scream as he threw it. Now, as the fizz from the drink slowly dissipated, he could feel the blinding anger disappear with it.
What was he doing?
What the fuck was he doing??
Seiji all but fell onto Akira’s bed, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.
How did he get so mad about all of this? It was only a week away from home. Sure, he didn’t have his phone and couldn’t talk to his best friend, and he was surrounded by no one but his yakuza family, and yeah, he just had to deal with a betrayal of the highest caliber with the gang, but-
But how did it all build up into this?
Seiji didn’t get emotional like this, especially not with Akira, no way. He knew Akira was loyal, they were best friends! Always best friends. They’ve done everything together; they’ve hunted ghosts and intimidated “business partners,” and crossed more than a couple boundaries together. They’ve shared heated kisses in alleys after UG matches, they’ve had showers together that got too steamy, they’ve thrown one or the other over every surface of Akira’s apartment in moments of lust at least once.
Okay, so maybe he missed Akira a little.
And maybe he just wanted one moment alone with him after finally returning home. Maybe that’s what it all stemmed from.
Seiji heaved a sigh and turned on his side.
Akira’s pillows were flat and uncomfortable, but they smelled just like him. The whole bed smelt like Akira . Seiji moved to slide under the covers when he spotted a familiar item lying folded next to his head — Akira’s short sleeved jacket. He must have been so mad he didn’t even notice Akira hadn’t been wearing it.
He snatched it quickly and buried his face in the dark fabric. The scent of it, the sweat, the blood, the overwhelming uniqueness of Akira…
God he missed him so much. A week was just way too long.
A new heat bloomed in his belly, this one much more welcomed than the other.
It’s not like Seiji had time to blow off some steam while he was away… And no one would be entering the apartment for quite a few hours.
With a hand slipping down the front of his pants, he decided he might as well entertain himself.
What’s a little bit of fun while waiting?
Dragging himself up the apartment stairs, Akira let out a deep sigh. Grueling work shift over, he could finally just sleep. He was a bit upset Seiji wasn’t waiting for him after work, and the bastard didn’t even reply to his text asking if he still wanted to hang out. He knew it was probably “family issues” keeping Seiji busy. Maybe it was for the best though; early on into Akira’s shift he decided he’d rather pass out and sleep until noon than get pulled through nightclub after nightclub until the sun rose.
Would that be so bad, though?
He really missed Seiji. If he admitted that to Seiji he’d make fun of him. The thought made him crack a smile.
Whatever, Akira was free all day tomorrow, the two of them would definitely be able to make up for lost time. For now, pulling out his apartment key, he went to unlock the door-
There was no click. Furrowing his brows, Akira turned the knob and found the door was unlocked. Weird. Must have forgotten to lock it this morning. He pushed the door open, kicked off his shoes, flicked on the light, and realized something was off.
One, his apartment smelled like chicken broth.
Two, Seiji was curled up asleep on his bed.
“Explains the door,” Akira muttered, quietly shutting the door behind him before approaching Seiji’s side and shaking his shoulder. “Hey, get up.” No response. He shook harder. “Dude, wake up.”
Finally, Seiji’s eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily a few times and looking up at him. “Hmm…? Oh, Akira,” he yawned and sat up, stretching his arms above his head before leaning back to prop himself up on his elbow. “Welcome back buddy, been keeping busy I see.”
Akira rolled his eyes and moved back toward the door to drop his bag. “How long have you been here? And why does it smell like soup?”
“How’d your little date go?” Completely ignoring his questions, Seiji wrapped a strand of hair around his finger. “You were out pretty late, you party animal.”
“Date? I was at work.” Akira cocked his head to the side.
“Aww, don’t be shy! I saw you and that goth girl earlier, you know. You guys got real friendly while I was gone, huh?” Seiji sat up and kicked his legs out before standing with a flourish, almost like he was putting on a show for him.
Was Akira getting fucked with? He tried to study Seiji’s face, but wasn’t seeing anything past his signature smarmy grin and crossed arms. If this was a joke, it was far more irritating than funny. “I mean, we hung out a couple times, since you said I couldn’t contact you while you were gone.”
“Uh-huh, I bet you two had such a great time. And you didn’t even think about telling me all the fun you had while I wasn’t around? I’m wounded, buddy, truly wounded.” The sarcasm dripped off his words like blood from a knife, so thick even Akira couldn’t miss it. The slight tremble in Seiji’s hands betrayed his cool and calm façade. Was he… actually upset? “Tell me about it. Tell me everything.”
“Dude, what are you talking about? I was at Aunt Natsumi’s this morning and Hazuki was hanging out with Ami, and she had to walk the same way as me on my way to work. Why are you-”
“Akira,” Seiji interrupted, dropping his smirk and leaving a deadly serious expression on his face. “I know you’re lying to me. And you know I have plenty of ways I can prove it. Don’t fucking test me.”
Akira clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at the other. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh! You don’t,” he laughed loudly, no humor behind it. “You don’t know what I’m talking about- God, I knew you were dumb but this is RICH, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Look, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” He was getting sick of this back and forth and going nowhere. Taking a few strides across the room, Akira reached out to put his hand on Seiji’s shoulder.
But Seiji slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“What- Okay, what the hell is up with you right now?” As soon as he asked, something clicked. He wasn’t the smartest guy by a long shot, but even he could start to see the bigger picture at this point. He’d witnessed this scene before in passing, whether it was some girl yelling at her man at the train station that he ignored or on some cheesy drama show Aunt Natsumi would have on in the background. “It sounds like you think I’m… I can’t think of a word, like… cheating or something. Is that it?”
The flash in Seiji’s eyes was downright murderous. “Seriously? You’re SERIOUSLY asking me that?”
“I dunno, that’s what it sounds like! You’re not explaining anything to me!”
“What else am I supposed to think, Akira?” Seiji threw his arms out in exaggeration. “I come back after a week and the first thing I find is you with some hussy all over you!”
“It’s just Hazuki-”
“No, I don’t know what to think anymore! I don’t know, I don’t know who to trust or who to believe, because clearly I can’t be gone a week without you pulling shit like this?!” He tried to let out another laugh, but it was closer to a choked, desperate gasp. “I’m so used to people turning on me, so I guess it was only a matter of time before you did too, huh?”
“God, do you hear yourself??” He took one step closer while Seiji took a step backwards, and for some reason that pissed him off. He continued to advance toward him until Seiji’s back pressed against the wall, leaving only a foot of space between the two. The rush of blood in Akira’s ears was deafening. “This is ridiculous. You’re being absolutely ridiculous right now. Why the hell would you think I’m messing around with someone else behind your back?”
Despite his advantage in strength, Seiji still managed to shove Akira hard enough to make him lose his footing and stagger in place. “Shut up! I really thought you were better than that, Akira! I really thought… Ugh, I should have known you’d pull the same kinda shit, just…” He shook his head and blinked hard, but Akira could still see the tears that threatened to fall. “I was so stupid.”
They had known each other for most of their lives, and if anything was true about Seiji it was that he didn’t cry. Yet there he was, trying to keep himself from doing it. It was so jarring…
Clearly Akira didn’t know what he went through on his family’s “business trip.” Seiji would never tell in a way that wasn’t roundabout, that’s just how he was. But he had been hours away from home, from his best friend and ride or die, no contact and no escape from whatever stress he had to undergo. Seiji was hurting. Seiji was, for the first time, vulnerable in front of him. Akira wasn’t good with emotions, especially other people’s, but this bizarre display sobered him up and he saw that Seiji needed him. There was only one way he could think that he’d be able to fix this hurt.
Akira reached down and grabbed Seiji’s wrists, and before they were pulled away he pinned them against the wall, trapping his body between his larger frame. “You really thought I would throw away my loyalty to you like that?”
Seiji drew in a shaky breath and steeled himself against his gaze. “Just gonna brute force your way through this like you do for everything?”
“If that’s how you want me to prove myself, sure.” He leaned forward to press his forehead against Seiji’s.
Like a taut cord being released, the tension quickly began dissipating. “Yeah… yeah,” he sighed, pressing his body on Akira’s in a way that clearly wasn’t an attempt to escape. The aggression melting into arousal was obvious to them both now. “How do I know you don’t just do this with other people?”
Akira shifted to slide his leg between Seiji’s, thigh resting against the hardening bulge in his slacks. The way Seiji immediately bit his lip to prevent making any noise made him smile. “As if I could get off to anyone else. You think someone like Hazuki compares to you?”
He didn’t have time to respond when Seiji shoved their lips together, all teeth and clumsy motions, until his brain caught up with the present and he kissed him properly. There was nothing chaste about it, as he ground himself down on Akira’s thigh and gasped between their mouths like a man drowning. It was all so sudden, the shift in mood was dizzying…
Seiji broke apart just as suddenly. “Don’t talk about her,” he exhaled, pressing his face into the warm column of Akira’s neck. “I only wanna hear you say my name.”
Akira let go of his grip on Seiji’s wrists, and those hands shot down to grab his ass. “Seiji…”
“Fuck, that’s right.” A kiss, then a bite to his neck, and then their lips crashed together once again. Akira pushed his hands under Seiji’s shirt and pressed his fingers into the soft skin of his chest, groaning as he felt a wandering hand slip down the front of his pants. It was maddening, the intensity of the heat building between them, with hands gripping flesh and cloth, teeth pulling at lips, and tongues sliding desperately along each other. Akira barely noticed his shirt getting tugged forward as if their bodies could be any closer before reaching to cup the back of Seiji’s neck and try to get closer still. A week of distance and desire built up for this explosive result.
And it felt delicious.
“Mm, hey,” Akira murmured, gripping the arm that was trying to make quick work of his cock through his underwear. “Let’s move this to the bed before we get any further.”
Humming in disapproval, Seiji rocked his hips forward against Akira. “And what if I wanted to ravage you against the wall, huh?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He leaned down and bit Seiji’s neck, only enough to draw a sharp inhale from him. “Haven’t you done enough dirty work this week? Let me handle everything.”
Seiji shivered, looking away to hide the blush on his cheeks. “You can’t just say things like that…”
Cute.
With a tug, Akira ripped open Seiji’s buttoned shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. “Wh- Hey, that was expensive, you know,” he protested, but Akira just shrugged and pushed the garment off his shoulders and sent it fluttering to the floor. He quickly lost interest in complaining once Akira began undressing, and there was no fight in him as he was pushed back onto the bed.
His lithe body was on full display for Akira, pale and unmarked and breathtaking. Running his hands down from Seiji’s chest to his hips, he eyed the canvas of soft skin he planned on covering in bite marks by the end of the night. This was his to mark up. Akira slid his hands back up to grip Seiji’s waist, fingernails digging into smooth flesh, and moved to bite along his collarbone. He was awarded with a low moan, a sound so sorely missed after a long week apart.
God, he wanted Seiji.
“As much as I enjoy getting felt up,” Seiji quipped, “skip the foreplay, I’m getting impatient. I’ve been waiting for you all day.”
“Still bossing me around?” Akira left one more bite before sitting up and glancing at the bookshelf.
The man under him hummed. “What, is that gonna be a problem for you?”
Bringing his gaze down to bed next to the shelf, he found the half empty lube bottle lying on top of the sheets – definitely not where it should’ve been. He popped the cap open and squeezed the liquid into his palm, shooting Seiji a look of warning. “I told you I was gonna handle it, just sit still and look pretty.”
It was brief, but he caught Seiji’s breath hitch at that comment. “If you don’t hurry up-”
Akira grabbed one of Seiji’s thighs and pushed it aside, effectively silencing him. “Quit acting like a spoiled brat,” he said lowly, pressing his nails into the soft skin. The muscle underneath tensed as the owner held his breath. These subtle reactions were getting to him, and he was determined to see how far he could push Seiji.
Without waiting for another comment, he slid two fingers into Seiji, feeling very little resistance. Before Akira could say anything, Seiji interjected, “You don’t, you don’t have to waste your time.” He spoke each word slowly, trying to put effort into sounding steady. “I was waiting for you for so long… What else was I supposed to do?”
“So you fucked yourself open like a whore on my bed?” As Akira pressed a third finger in alongside the others, he revelled in the stifled groan Seiji tried so hard not to let out. “You even cleaned yourself up before I showed up.”
“Cause I was, you know…” Seiji forced out, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He struggled to keep his composure with Akira fingering him so slowly. “Edging… I was gonna- fuck, wait for you to come home, and then make you suck me off… So I could cum all over your dumb fuckin’ face for m-making me angry.”
Akira shoved his fingers particularly deep, forcing a startled moan from his mouth. “How’d that go for you?”
Seiji squirmed, precum dripping onto the flat expanse of his stomach. “Sh-shut up and fuck me already!” It was so close to a whine, if Akira could push him a little further…
“That’s not how you ask for something,” Akira teased, dragging his fingers inside him roughly. Seiji was beginning to tremble. “Do it properly.”
“Now.”
He slowed his wrist to shallow thrusts, and he couldn’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips when Seiji huffed. “This is gonna be a very long night for you.”
“Ugh…” Seiji bit down on his index finger and looked away. Akira always found it easy to rile him up, but he’d never seen this side of him. Seiji always found a way to take charge, so to have him gasping and writhing from his fingers alone, forced to relinquish control and be put in his place to get what he desperately wanted… It was unexplored territory and Akira was soaking it in.
But he still wanted to be greedy — he needed to push Seiji further. Leaning down, Akira grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, relishing in the twitch of muscle underneath. His face was so close to Seiji’s untouched cock, but he had no plans of giving it any relief. Instead, Akira watched as he reacted, as Seiji’s eyes squeezed closed feeling each hot breath against his neglected erection, as his hand pressed harder against his mouth in vain to prevent himself from moaning, as his last thread of patience was threatening to snap. Finally, in one last bid, Akira dragged his fingers against the sweet nerves nestled deep inside Seiji, and-
“Fine, please! Akira, please just do it already!”
That’s what he wanted. If this game had gone on any longer, Akira didn’t know how much restraint he’d still have. He shuddered and bit the back of Seiji’s thigh before pulling away from him and sitting on his heels. “How do you want it then?”
He watched as Seiji shifted onto his front, hips lifted up and face buried in the pillow. The tips of his ears were beet red and his hands were shaking where they were gripping the sheets. His ass looked so good waiting like that; Akira definitely had to keep this mental image in his spank bank.
Seiji glanced over his shoulder and whined, “Akiraaa…”
Scratch that, that image.
With a quick “fuck” under his breath, Akira spread the remaining lubricant in his hand over his dick and moved into position behind Seiji. He held Seiji’s hip in one hand as he finally, finally sank into the pliable body beneath him. His head was swimming, the heat squeezing him was making him dizzy. Not willing to wait any longer, Akira began thrusting into him, keeping a moderate pace to start. Seiji’s back arched so beautifully, moving his hips to meet Akira’s halfway; however, the pillow Seiji held to his face muffled any of the sweet noises Akira managed to coax out of him to near silence. And that wasn’t going to fly.
Akira leaned forward, their bodies pressed together, and laced his fingers into Seiji’s soft brown hair, suddenly gripping it roughly and lifting his head up. Seiji tried (and failed) to keep himself from moaning out loud, struggling against Akira’s hold. Against the shell of his ear, Akira whispered, “Remind me why you were so mad at me.”
“Ahh… Huh?” Seiji exhaled.
“C’mon, you know my memory’s not good. Help me out.” With one hand still tangled in Seiji’s hair, he wrapped his other arm around his torso, effectively holding him in place.
Seiji did his best to squirm, airy moans escaping his open mouth. “A-Akira, I don’t- I can’t…”
He forced himself to slow his hips, groaning when Seiji whined in protest. “What’s wrong? You wanted to- ugh, put me in my place, right? For going behind your back? For disobeying you?” Akira pushed himself as far as he could go, completely halting his movements. With his body pinning him, it was impossible for Seiji to get any relief. “You broke into my apartment, fucked yourself stupid, just to try and knock me down a peg? You’re such a fucking slut.”
“Shit…” Seiji attempted to break free of the hold on him to shove his face in the pillow again. Akira snarled and yanked his head back, dragging a wonderfully high pitched moan out from Seiji’s throat.
“Tell me,” he growled.
A shaky inhale. “You’re… you’re mine.”
There he goes. Akira let go of his hair and dug his teeth into Seiji’s shoulders, resuming his thrusts to reward him.
“Mmgh, you’re mine, I-I should have been the first one… that you gave your attention to, no one else…” As if a dam had been broken, the words spilled from Seiji in between gasps and moans. “Y-you can’t blow me off… Akira, it’s not enough…”
He was more than happy to increase the pace, but he needed Seiji to keep talking. He needed Seiji. “Don’t stop,” Akira groaned into his shoulder blades.
“Y-you’re not, oh god… You can’t be with a-anyone else. You’re mine, fuck, you belong to me!”
A violent shiver shot down Akira’s spine. There was no way this was going to last much longer, and with the way Seiji begged underneath him he couldn’t be too far from the finish line too.
Although, Akira wanted something else. This wasn’t enough, either.
“A-Akira please, please pleasepleaseplease I need it, I love-”
“Hold on,” Akira mumbled, pulling out and scooting back. “Turn around.”
Seiji sounded downright pathetic, nearly crying at the loss and being left hanging. “Wh… Akira…”
Without waiting for him to move on his own, Akira picked him up and flipped him onto his back. Now that he was able to see his face, he noticed visible streaks on Seiji’s face where tears had fallen – his eyes still held some that threatened to stain his face further. His cheeks were flushed and hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. His lips were red where he’d been biting them. Akira wanted to kiss him. Adoration bloomed in his gut, the warm tenderness an alien feeling. He wanted to look at Seiji like this forever. He wanted to be with Seiji forever.
“I love it when you say shit like that,” Akira sighed, slotting himself between his thighs and stretching the legs forward until they pressed against Seiji’s chest and his knees were resting on Akira’s shoulders.
“Akira, you-” Seiji was promptly cut off by Akira slipping back inside him, voice dissolving into a wanton moan.
Guard fully broken down, Akira laced his fingers with Seiji’s. “I love you.”
The brutal way he thrust into Seiji knocked the wind out of him, each breath shallow as they carried incoherent pleas. Akira drank in every single one, unable and unwilling to hold his own groans back. His thoughts grew hazier, and the only two in the world were him and Seiji. Him, Seiji, and the blazing heat that threatened to swallow them whole and melt them into one.
Akira nestled his face into Seiji’s neck, sucking on the salty skin until the skin bloomed crimson underneath his lips. Seiji’s hands squeezed his tightly, almost enough to hurt. His brain turned to mush as the delicious symphony of moans filled his ears and the coil in his belly drew tighter.
“Close, ‘kira,” Seiji slurred. His eyes were unfocused as Akira kissed him, just as high from the rush as he was. He wasn’t sure who came first, the blinding white behind his eyelids and the choked noise escaping Seiji’s throat blurred together into one chaotic cacophony, lasting forever and too soon at the same time. The moment seared itself like a brand on Akira’s mind, and he decided right there that he’d endure the sting over and over if it meant he’d get to experience a fraction of it with Seiji again.
As awareness slowly returned and their breathing and heartbeats began levelling out, Akira untangled himself from Seiji’s body and carefully reached for the tissue box. Seiji’s limbs starfished across the bed, head lolling to the side, and barely moved as Akira wiped his body as best as he could. Finally, deeming the job done enough, he flopped onto the bed next to Seiji, ache seeping into his muscles slowly.
He turned his head to meet Seiji’s gaze. “Hey.”
“Hey, buddy.”
“You can’t call me buddy after I just had my dick in your ass.”
Seiji smiled, exhaling in amusement. “I just did.”
Akira sighed, meaning to sound annoyed but the smile on his face betrayed his intentions. “Yeah, yeah. We should probably shower though, we’re sweaty and gross.”
“If I try to get out of bed, I will die and melt into a puddle, and then you’ll have my family to deal with.” Finalizing his decision, Seiji scooted closer to him and draped an arm around his waist. “If you’re so worried about it, I’ll just buy you new sheets. Or maybe a whole new bed. You know I hate this old thing.”
“You’re not-“ Akira cut himself off, this exact faux argument playing in his head from the hundreds of others times they’d had it. “As long as you don’t complain about how gross you feel in the morning.”
Seiji smirked. “No promises.”
The atmosphere settled around them like gentle rain after a storm, the weight of the night’s events quieting to a comforting stillness. Something between the two had changed, but it was welcomed, even natural. Seiji’s fingertips ghosting over scars on his chest from incidents long past made him realize that perhaps this was just inevitable; how many times had Akira thrown himself into harm's way just to protect Seiji? How long had their intense bond been unspoken but absolute? Maybe nothing changed at all, and they just didn’t acknowledge it until they had no choice.
“Seiji,” Akira murmured, playfully bumping his feet against Seiji’s, “did you mean it? When you said you loved me?”
“Hah? I’m pretty sure you said that.” His tone was snarky as always, but his smile was nothing but genuine. It was a nice look for him.
“You almost said it, I think that counts.”
Seiji laughed and nestled his head against Akira’s chest. “Nope, doesn’t count. You said it first, you big sap.”
Of course he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Akira didn’t need to hear it to know what Seiji truly meant. They were always better at speaking through their bodies rather than with words, and Seiji was loud and clear.
And, as exhaustion bled into sleepiness, Akira remembered one last thing he needed to ask before sleep claimed them both.
“Are you gonna clean the soup off the wall?”
“Don’t worry about it, that can be a problem for future you.”