Coming to you live from a very steamy journal post~
Why, hello there, kittens! I'm Kanji, esteemed reporter of all things fabulous and ever so delightfully naughty, and I'm here with a most special update for a fandom just beginning its long, hard... journey into adulthood~!
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
In this scintillating post of mine, you can comment anonymously with any pairing ( Read more... )
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
In this scintillating post of mine, you can comment anonymously with any pairing ( Read more... )
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Dojima doesn’t know when the first time happened, but it must’ve been during the first two weeks, just as he started thinking that maybe he should fall into the habit of labeling his food again, because lately, pudding’s been disappearing from the top shelf.
These days, there are hints around his house of another person’s presence in his home, an ongoing phenomena rather than a once-was memorial. Sometimes, the bathroom floor is wet and the mirror’s damp with steam. Sometimes, dishes are left in the sink. Dojima is the sort of person that falls into routine. Change is not unwelcome, but it is strange. It takes an extra moment in the morning to remind himself that Adachi is here, that Nanako isn’t, that Chisato hasn’t been.
Adachi never knows what he is going to do, and he always seems to be doing nothing. It’s nostalgic, in a way, and that is bad. “What are you going to do tomorrow?” Don’t know. “Do anything today?” Not much. “Really?” asks Dojima, not incredulous, but skeptical, and Adachi looks at him from the other end of the wooden table, brow raising. He is nursing his own can of beer, sliding it on its own condensation from hand to hand on the surface (Beer - 1.00). He catches it in his left, and stops.
“Oh,” he remarks, “So you did learn something.”
As a detective, there is a lot to be said about evidence. It doesn’t lie, it doesn’t cheat, it says that groceries don’t restock themselves, and Dojima hasn’t been to Junes in nearly a month. Dojima finishes his beer, tosses the empty can into the basket with a lucky throw. It hits the rim and lands. “You could’ve gone tomorrow. It’s been pouring all day.” As an experienced detective, there is a lot to be said about not beating around the bush.
“I know,” says Adachi, smile wry, and Dojima looks at him, sighs, understands.
“You could’ve said something,” he mutters.
“I wrote it down,” says Adachi, nodding sideways at the refrigerator door, where -10.00 Grocery Shopping is written under what was probably Adachi’s breakfast. If he wanted, Dojima could add a number to the bottom of that list and add as many zeroes to the end as he wanted until the pen ran off the side of the page, if he was really counting debts owed and paid. This is not an even exchange, but some allowances had to be made, to gamble with someone with nothing to lose.
It is entirely like Adachi to have others believe he is up to nothing when he is doing something, filling holes or making them. Dojima supposes that this isn’t exactly progress, but it is also a change, or the result of years of it, strange but not unwelcome, just like how this isn't exactly redemption, but it's also not exacerbation, meager but still enough. He lets it go; they go to sleep. After that, he starts leaving notes, written in messy, bold, handwriting on old lined paper. Stop eating my pudding, it says, underlined with jagged, emphasized strokes. He figures he has the right, as it is his pudding, and that is usually what ‘my’ implies.
It works for an entire day, though whether that is because Adachi simply didn’t want pudding, or because he actually contemplated listening, is difficult to say. Dojima comes home late (late enough so that all the lights are out, the sink is clear, and save for the fact that he doesn’t need to throw out his 7AM coffee, he can almost convince himself that he is alone). Then, he opens the refrigerator door and finds a plate with a note on it. ‘Doing you a favor. What if you get diabetes?’ it says.
Dojima scowls, shutting it. He happens to glance at Adachi’s debt sheet. -2.50 Senior Health Monitoring, it says.
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NEED MOAR, AUTHORNON ♥!
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