Reports for Spanking
Once upon a time it was last August. There was an anime called Monochrome Factor, and one week, there was an episode which was so steeped in phallic symbols, pseudo-sex and blatant fan-servicey hurt/comfort that I was inspired to write a tag about it. Because, seriously. The blue come scene was not even slightly subtle. But it was August and my attention span is a short one and the poor fic, like so many others, was abandoned just before it got to the good part. Then, for no apparent reason, last week I was suddenly inspired to finish it. It got a bit long and got a new-stylee makeover. I wrote some of it drunk on a train home after pub-crawling, surrounded by Crystal Palace supporters shouting about football-y things. Some of it I wrote at work with my boss calling me Caro-chan and telling me about how his wife spent over two hundred quid on a painting and bitching about Tokyo again. I spent a lot of time on it and I have no clue why. But I kind of like it. And whilst only about four people on my flist will even know this fandom, I DUN CARE.
For those four people, enjoy!
Title: Shadows Lead Astray
Rating: 13, 15-ish. I never know how to rate these things.
Words: 6,749
Summary: Monochrome Factor. Akira/Shirogane. Tag to Episode 2, otherwise known as Fan-Service-hurt-comfort-episode-Extroadinaire. With added stimulated sex. No rly. Please be ignoring canon inconsistencies lalala. Anyway, this is srs bsns.
After the fight, later, Akira and Shirogane face more Kokuchi. And each other.
Beta'd, as ever, by my beloved cienna. But, I added a lot more when I got it back from her so any remaining mistakes herein belong to me.
.Shadows Lead Astray.
It was fully dark by the time Akira stopped running, panting and sweating heavily in the humid summer air. He bent over, hands on his knees, and waited for Shirogane to make some completely stupid comment like he always did.
He wasn't, Akira assured himself, worried when Shirogane said nothing. Nor was he concerned in any way when he could barely even sense Shirogane's presence. The idiot was probably off somewhere with some other high school kid. Twisting his tales and smiling and leaning forward on his cane, peering down at them. Not that he cared. He'd had nothing but trouble since he'd met the crazy longhaired weirdo, and the sooner he disappeared the better.
Still. Akira had to admit that Shirogane could be useful to have around if he was going to get attacked by every random, vicious monster in Japan. He had, after all, saved his life a few times. Not that Akira couldn't take care of himself. He just got bored fighting sometimes. So, Akira reasoned, he should probably see where Shirogane had gone off to, because the sun had set and he was in no doubt that those ugly Kokuchi would come after him again tonight, just to annoy him. There was no way, Akira was sure, the annoying monsters would give him the night off just because he'd been injured earlier. Even though the memory of his wound being healed still burned through his body worse than the wound itself had. And if that wasn't an incentive to never get injured again Akira wasn't sure what would be.
Shirogane though, Akira remembered, hadn't cried out like he had. Granted he'd been unconscious for most of it, but then when he woken up he'd been oddly sedate, rubbing at his still blue-tinged shoulder like it ached. Akira supposed it probably did. It wasn't just a simple wound like his, but poison to Shirogane, Master had said. Not so easy to heal, but something that would take time and rest. But it wasn't like they had a choice if they were attacked. There was no telling the Kokuchi to come back later, when they were feeling better.
And how did shadows relax anyway? Akira wondered.
Maybe that was where Shirogane was now; hiding in some dark shadowy corner like the weirdo he was. Or maybe he was just trying to see if Akira would worry. Maybe he was testing Akira, to see if he cared, if he could do without him after they had spent every waking minute together for the last few days. And, Akira suspected, every one of his sleeping moments too.
On those long summer days, on the school roof or in Akira's room at night, the heat sticky and irritating, Shirogane was all teasing and talking about nothing and only ever giving half-answers and useless fighting tips like, "Don't strain your muscles too hard: you should do a warm up before you fight," (like there was ever time for that) and "You become shadow, they are shadow, your knife is shadow," (like that made any sense at all). But sometimes, Shirogane would turn serious, and he would suddenly look old and tired, and though he didn't say a word then, these times told Akira more about Shirogane than a thousand pointless conversations they had had.
Well, Akira huffed, he didn't care. He could look after himself, and if he was walking in the direction from which he could feel Shirogane's presence then it was only because it happened to be in the same direction as his home.
The streets were quiet this late; eerily quiet without Shirogane's inane prattling in his ear, street corners and alleys swamped with dark shadows reaching out from dull, deep orange street lamps, and for the first time since Akira had met Shirogane he thought that maybe the Kokuchi were something to be afraid of. He wondered if Shirogane feared them at all, behind his smiles and prancing. They could hurt him, Akira knew that now, had seen how the Kokuchi were toxic to Shirogane, painted in a crisscross of blue across Shirogane's white skin.
For a shadow, Akira reflected, Shirogane was really rather pale. Not that he often thought about Shirogane's skin.
Above him Akira could hear the faint rumble of electricity running through power lines, so like the nagging feeling of Shirogane's presence in his mind drawing him ever more urgently towards it that he wanted to block out the sound. It was the imminent threat of Kokuchi attack, Akira assured himself, urging him to move faster. He hummed tunelessly.
Anyway, Akira reminded himself, he was new at this so there was no need to be ashamed of needing help. Tomorrow, tomorrow there would be more Kokuchi probably, and Shirogane would close up the split in the worlds, or whatever it was he did, and Akira would stab some monsters. Tomorrow, Akira would be tired in the morning and he would bitch at Shirogane and Shirogane would flirt back. They would be fine. Shirogane was fine. He was not worried. And if Akira was jogging then it was because he needed to keep fit for his new role as local monster-killer.
The darkness felt oppressive, like the heat, closing in on him so it was difficult to breathe. Shadows crammed beside houses and fences and unimpressive plastic lean-tos and some feeling, some urgency, in Akira's mind told him they were dangerous, to get away from them, to find Shirogane. And if he was honest with himself, which right now Akira was not sure he wanted to be, Akira wasn't sure if his urgency was for his own sake or for Shirogane's.
Master had told him to stay out of trouble, to rest, but that was not how they lived, and Akira was pretty sure that was not how Shirogane had everlived. It was strange that then, as he ran through the streets of his neighbourhood out of some vague unease, he would wonder for the first time where Shirogane had come from. What was he really? What had he done before meeting Akira? Why was he trying to restore the balance he went on about all the time anyway?
Maybe he was just going for the tall, mysterious stranger act; trying to make himself more interesting and attractive than he really was. But that didn't seem right. It was more likely, Akira thought, that Shirogane had something to hide; that Akira wouldn't like the truth. Even though Shirogane asked him to trust in him, said things like, "You don't need to know," and "I'd never let anything bad happen to you, Akira," how could Akira be sure when Shirogane never gave him anything to believe in.
Still, he knew, like he knew that he had to sleep and he had to breathe, that this was something he had to do. He had to fight, to restore this balance of Shirogane's, to protect this world, whoever Shirogane was. And to do that, Akira supposed, he still needed the idiot's help.
Shirogane's presence was growing stronger, the weird tingling turning to something more kinetic that he felt in his toes. Akira followed it, letting the feeling wind along his arms and through his chest. He turned a corner, a gate, a closed-up futon store, a bathhouse with a dull green light bleeding out onto the pavement, then over a low barrier into what looked like a small public garden.
Akira stopped running then, knowing that Shirogane was close, and followed a path around some trees. He passed a small, dark fox shrine which spilled red light out onto the old concrete around it and into the leaves of the trees hanging above it so that it looked almost like autumn in that corner; it's only private, secret world. Akira turned a corner and the red light was gone, and in not far in front of him sat Shirogane, legs outstretched, face tilted back towards the sky, on an old wooden bench.
There was silence for a longer time than Akira ever thought possible with Shirogane around, making him wonder if Shirogane had even noticed he was there. It was weird, but Akira had no idea why he didn't say anything himself, like, announce his arrival or tell Shirogane to stop being an idiot. Instead, he just watched. Nothing, he realised. He was watching nothing. Shirogane wasn't smiling and he wasn't frowning. His legs weren't crossed or his arms folded, just laying at his sides and unmoving, unnaturally still. It was too hot, Akira thought, for the amount of clothes Shirogane was wearing; for the hat and the collar up to his neck. Akira was sweating in just his shirt, and not just because he'd been running about the streets for the past while. He wondered if Shirogane felt temperature at all. He supposed not, with no sweat on his face and no sign of discomfort in the stuffy night air. Then,
"Akira found me." Shirogane's voice was soft, his eyes still turned to the dark night above them.
"Shirogane," Akira said, shaking himself because he had been staring and he didn't quite know or want to know why. And he had no idea what to say. He couldn't ask, "Where have you been?" because that would sound too much like Akira actually wanted the idiot around. He couldn't ask, "Are you all right?" because that would have sounded too much like Akira actually cared. He'd just followed his instincts, and they had led him to Shirogane. So Akira decided to go with the obvious:
"You didn't follow me."
"I didn't follow you," Shirogane replied.
Akira frowned, wondering why he even bothered when Shirogane seemed terminally incapable of telling him anything, honestly or otherwise.
"Do you do that to annoy me?" he asked. Shirogane's eyes turned to him then and Akira could just see the lies forming there. "And don't say ‘do what'," he cut in before Shirogane even thought about starting that game. He was not in the mood. It was late, he was tired, he'd been stabbed and then subjected to Master's not-so-gentle healing only to have to chase around after his idiotic shadow stalker person for half the night.
Shirogane looked down at his feet, an odd sort of smile on his pale face.
"No, Akira," he said, voice quiet and almost serious. Then he turned back to Akira suddenly, grinning. "Were you worried?"
"Not a chance," Akira shot back. From the way Shirogane's smile grew even wider Akira thought perhaps he had replied a little bit too quickly.
"What are you doing sitting here anyway?" Akira asked, deciding it was most definitely time to change the subject. It was odd too, Akira thought, that Shirogane had made no move to get closer to him like he usually did. If anything, Shirogane seemed to be holding himself still, like it hurt to move.
Shirogane just shook his head and turned his face back towards the moon.
"I was admiring the night," he said, and it almost sounded like honesty.
"I thought maybe there were more Kokuchi around," Akira tried.
"That too." And that surprised Akira, because now he thought about it he could sense them, around, unclear, indiscernible, but definitely there. He'd just been so caught up in following Shirogane's presence that he hadn't even noticed.
He shook his head, dismissing the idea that he had been that concerned with finding Shirogane as ridiculous. He had just been too far away to sense them before, that was all.
But he felt them now.
"They are happy tonight," Shirogane said, his smile turning to something more wry.
Akira could feel that too. It was like they were gloating, laughing at them, daring them to fight.
"Because they stabbed us." Akira scoffed, because it was a pretty stupid thing to get cocky about considering the number of Kokuchi he alone had killed in the short time he'd been doing this. He had no idea how many Kokuchi Shirogane had killed in his life. He probably didn't want to know.
"There are a lot of them," Akira realised, watching Shirogane carefully as he leaned forward to stand, then seemed to think better of it and sank back against the bench.
"Akira will defeat them easily," Shirogane smiled, but it looked forced and strained on Shirogane's pale lips.
"Your arm still hurts," Akira said, and Shirogane's silence was confirmation enough. "The Kokuchi know…" Akira began.
"I'm fine," Shirogane interrupted, taking hold of his cane with his left hand and standing, right arm held stiffly against his chest.
"You shouldn't fight," Akira said, because even though he didn't much like Shirogane he didn't actually hate him, and it would certainly be too much of a pain if Shirogane got killed or something.
Shirogane shook his head. "I can always fight," he smiled tightly, and there was a strange edge to his voice. "This is nothing." Then, as suddenly as it had come, the weirdness was gone, replaced by Shirogane's usual creepy smirk. "But I am very glad that Akira is worried about me."
Akira just scoffed, shaking his head.
"Just get this stupid Doppler thing off me."
"Akira should be able to do that himself by now," Shirogane laughed, chuckled, but his eyes were elsewhere, focused on the shadows of the park around them.
The feeling, thick and heavy, like bone-dry ash in the back of your mouth, grew stronger, surrounding them until it felt as though it was pushing against his body from all sides. He knew Shirogane felt it too because he stood up straighter, his shoulders drawing back. That feeling, cool against skin and uncomfortable, seemed enough of an incentive for Shirogane to stop teasing, because then Akira felt the still unfamiliar weird pulling sensation which told him his shadow or soul or whatever was being ripped from its body.
Not too soon either, as immediately two tall, black masses launched themselves at Akira and it was all he could do to react instinctively, lunging forward, avoiding the Kokuchi's sharp, poisonous claws that Akira had already become fully acquainted with earlier that day thank you-very-much.
He drove forward, plunging his knives into the Kokuchi's stomach. These ones, Akira thought as he pulled back, watching the Kokuchi shatter into a million pieces, were strong but none too bright. Then there were three more lunging towards him out of the night so he shifted his weight left, rolling away from their outstretched claws and slashing at their legs. They screamed and he finished them with a blow to the chest, cutting off their howls. Akira sighed, grateful for the quiet because their cries always made his ears feel like they were going to burst or something. But there were still more around him, around them, and Akira felt more were coming. He could sense them, lingering in the shadows, watching.
They were not looking at him though, Akira noticed suddenly. They were looking at Shirogane.
Another Kokuchi swiped at Akira's head, and he was forced to refocus on his opponent, but as he dodged and slashed at the dark shapes of the Kokuchi attacking him, he couldn't forget Shirogane's pale face and slow moving hands and body held rigid as he sat on the park bench. It made him cold in a way he couldn't explain, and so he fought harder, pushed harder, moved faster; just to stay warm, he told himself, to test his strength, his speed, his skill. To show Shirogane he could do this, alone, without him. To show Shirogane that he didn't need him and certainly didn't want him around.
Then, as he twisted his knives into the backs of two more creatures, turning to face two more, he heard a shriek like nothing he'd ever heard before. It was so loud and so fierce it seemed to pierce his eardrums and reverberate through his bones, and it grew and grew as other Kokuchi took up the cry until it was so loud Akira thought the ground was shaking beneath him.
It then occurred to Akira that the Kokuchi had stopped fighting, which was probably a good thing seeing as the sound made his head hurt so much he doubted he'd be able to fend off even one of them like this, let alone the three surrounding him. Instead of attacking though, they turned away from him, towards the bench, and all Akira could think was Shirogane, and then he was moving again.
Akira lashed out, killing whatever got in his way, because he knew Shirogane was in pain, because he was too. Because he knew, could tell, that the wailing and the screaming was not a sign of the Kokuchi's displeasure or anger but was a celebration, cries of joy and success and something like gloating.
Idiot or not, stranger or friend, Akira wouldn't let Shirogane die. Of that he was sure. He pushed further into the crowd of Kokuchi, making them notice him, and he killed them even as they swatted him like he was an annoying fly. And it was weird, but it felt good. Not just fighting for some random unknown existential goal, but for a life. For someone he knew, for someone maybe he did sort of care about. A little bit. Sometimes.
Then the Kokuchi were turning back to him, remembering he still existed after all, and it made Akira feel a weird sense of grim satisfaction in the pit of his stomach that the Kokuchi weren't shouting like they were about to throw a party anymore. Instead, they growled and spat at his face and flicked their tongues in annoyance. Akira nodded, because that's how he thought it should be, and he stabbed and he slashed and he fought until he had cut his way through enough Kokuchi to see Shirogane, just ahead of him, his hand outstretched and his fingers splayed, a force-field of some kind surrounding him.
Through the shimmer of the shield Akira could see that Shirogane was sweating now and looking most decidedly not well. He was holding his cane loosely, and seemed to be muttering under his breath, concentrating Akira thought, until he fought his way through the remaining Kokuchi surrounding Shirogane to stand beside him, and then he could hear that Shirogane was saying,
"Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic," over and over again. He sounded annoyed and frustrated and really, really tired.
"Shirogane!" he called, ducking to the right to avoid the claws of a particularly agile Kokuchi. Shirogane's head snapped up, his eyes burning for a moment into Akira's, all anger and ferocity. And for just a second Akira could see a being who had killed and killed and had enjoyed it, and for a just a second Akira was almost afraid. But it passed, and Shirogane was Shirogane again; mystery and something close to indifference.
"I'm not having much luck today, Akira," he said lightly, but his smile was not much more than a curl of red lips.
"Yeah," Akira agreed. "I told you to stay out of it." Akira moved to stand in front of Shirogane, slashing at anything that dared come even remotely close.
Shirogane huffed out a laugh.
"I didn't really have that much of a choice," he said. Which Akira had to admit did actually make sense, but he wasn't going to tell Shirogane that.
"So what's with the shield thing?" he asked instead.
"I'm just taking a short rest," Akira replied, still infuriatingly calm and composed even though Akira could hear that he was slightly breathless, the strain making the force-field flicker haphazardly. Then, with a breath, Shirogane lowered his outstretched arm, drawing his fingers into a fist and the shield blinked out of existence. In that moment, as he saw Shirogane out of the corner of his eye wink at him before driving into the remaining crowd of Kokuchi with his cane outstretched, Akira knew this was their chance to finish the fight. Confused and surprised by the sudden change, the Kokuchi were almost too easy to kill. Slow to advance, slow to turn, slow to catch on that Shirogane was now tearing them to pieces rather than just fending them off, the Kokuchi fell. And it was over in minutes, like it should have been from the start.
Akira relaxed then, letting out a breath and wiping away the sweat on his forehead, watching Shirogane as he made his way carefully back to the bench and sort of gracefully collapsed back into it.
"I have school tomorrow, you know," Akira said, moving to stand beside the bench.
Shirogane nodded.
"So you do," he replied, then smiled widely. "Akira has become much stronger. I'm very impressed."
And for some reason that Akira didn't want to think about he actually felt his cheeks heating up and his fingers tingling. He was, he decided, going to put it down to fatigue.
"Thanks," Akira mumbled, because even if he wasn't going to admit that he sort of maybe sometimes didn't not like Shirogane, he could at least admit that Shirogane knew what he was doing when it came to Kokuchi. Usually.
Akira straightened.
"I can't wait around here all night for you," he said, trying to sound annoyed, tapping his foot impatiently.
"You don't have to wait for me, Akira," Shirogane replied. "I can look after myself."
Akira snorted.
"Oh yes, because you were looking after yourself so well a few minutes ago." But Shirogane just kept smiling, shook his head and made no move to stand up. And that actually did make Akira annoyed, so he announced,
"Okay. That's it," and gripped Shirogane's arm tightly, dragging him up and then pulling him along out of the park. "We're going home," he said, doing his best to sound authoritative.
Shirogane didn't struggle, didn't resist, and even more disturbingly didn't say anything at all. Just let himself be led down the narrow, dark streets silently. It was only then that Akira noticed that Shirogane didn't actually seem to weigh very much; it felt like grasping at air. Shirogane's feet made no noise against the ground, and the fabric of his clothing made no sound, and Akira couldn't even hear him breathing. If Akira hadn't been able to feel the solid arm beneath his fingers he wouldn't have known Shirogane was there at all. And he was most certainly not looking back to check, because even though he couldn't hear him, Akira could feel Shirogane; his presence, his existence, his eyes boring into the back of Akira's head.
"Stop that," Akira said, turning the corner into his street.
"Stop what?" Shirogane asked in reply, and Akira just knew Shirogane was laughing at him.
"Staring at me," he said, and hauled Shirogane in the most un-gentle fashion he could manage through the gate to his house.
"Ah, but Akira, why should I do that when it's such a nice sight," Shirogane said lightly, sighing dramatically, seemingly going for dreamy but it just came off sounding sort of weary. He let himself be pulled around to the side door, not even making any comment when Akira stopped, rifled through his pockets one handed to find the key and didn't let go of Shirogane's arm at all.
"You're going to sleep and you're going to shut up," Akira said when he had finally found the key.
"I don't really need to sleep, you know," Shirogane replied teasingly. It would be easy, Akira thought. It would be easy to get angry and shout and just give up and let go of Shirogane and tell him to do whatever the hell he wanted. That was, Akira thought, what Shirogane wanted him to do. But the idiot had saved him, and maybe there was something of guilt in this because it sort of was Akira's fault Shirogane had got hurt.
It would seem strange now too, Akira realised, not to have Shirogane at his side, being irritating and getting in the way and completely ruining his life. Except not always. Sometimes it was fun, with his friends. And it felt right, to fight, and sometimes to sit beside Shirogane and just not say anything (which, yes, was rare, but did occasionally happen). There was, after all, no one else that could explain to Akira what was going on; who he was, or why this was. He knew he couldn't let Shirogane not be there anymore. And maybe just a little bit he didn't want him to not be there.
There was no doubt in Akira's mind that Shirogane was a liar and a fraud and that there was far more to him than the idiot and the pervert he always acted as. But there was hope too, sometimes. When he thought Akira wasn't looking. He looked at Akira and there was something honest there then, like maybe he actually did like Akira too. Like maybe he actually did care.
So Akira wasn't going to let go, or play Shirogane's game and let himself be annoyed into ignoring the fact that Shirogane was in pain and weakened, and maybe actually in need of some help. Akira could sympathise with the aversion to sympathy, and dislike of pity and coddling, but he knew when he was over his head. He knew when he couldn't do something on his own. Unlike, apparently, Shirogane.
Instead, he told Shirogane, "You'll fall down if you don't," and unlocked the door, pulling Shirogane into the house where he couldn't reply. They went past the silent kitchen and into the hall and Akira pulled Shirogane up the stairs. Shirogane's arm was trembling a little under his hand, and he felt cool, cold even, through the sleeve of his coat, despite the stiflingly warm night and their earlier exertion.
Down the corridor, to the right, carefully opening the door and he was back in his room. Someone had opened his window and he was glad for the breeze in the stuffy night, in the small, enclosed space that sometimes seemed to make Shirogane fidget and squirm.
The door was barely even closed before Shirogane spoke up, his words fast, heavy, like he'd been waiting to talk for an eternity rather than what couldn't have been any more than two minutes.
"Akira is very angry," he said, tone false but forced, like the lies weren't coming so easily anymore. It was, if nothing else, telling as to how bad off Shirogane was. And, Akira lamented, how tragic it was that he could tell.
Akira shrugged, not willing to lie but not willing to admit to anything either. "I can't do anything for your shoulder," he said instead. "We'll go back to Master tomorrow."
He pulled Shirogane over to his bed and all but shoved him back onto it, and was not at all surprised to see Shirogane's raised eyebrow and grin. Before he could comment though, Akira added quickly, "Now go to sleep." Then just in case Shirogane still wasn't getting the point, he repeated, "To sleep".
Shirogane sighed heavily, tragically, but took off his hat and laid it on Akira's bedside lamp, shuffling back to sit fully on the bed. "You're no fun, Akira," he said, but half-heartedly at best; his eyes closed and there was colour at his cheeks that didn't look at all healthy and a weariness to his shoulders than made Akira think that perhaps it was more than the pain of injury that made Shirogane so tired. He wondered, not for the first time, how old Shirogane really was.
"Take off your coat," Akira said, because Shirogane was making no attempt to do anything other than sit there watching him as he went about clearing the floor so that he would have somewhere to sleep.
He looked up and saw Shirogane grimacing, but when he noticed Akira looking at him, Shirogane smiled and said, "We could just share your bed."
"And Kengo might become a brain surgeon," Akira shot back. He wondered, he really did, why he bothered at all. But it was a dangerous thing to think, because he knew, if he was honest with himself; he knew that he kind of liked this. He liked the way Shirogane was there to tease and look at him. And sometimes when Shirogane smiled without deception, but instead with familiar friendliness, or something like wistfulness, then those times, when Akira was sure Shirogane didn't know he was looking, Akira was convinced that Shirogane really did actually like him.
And now Shirogane was laughing, quietly, as though sharing some secret joke and it seemed real enough so Akira stood in front of Shirogane. "You're useless," he told him, kneeling and starting to undo the buttons of the long coat. "You know that?"
The material felt like silk under his fingers, the buttons like glass, and Shirogane fell silent. He felt Shirogane breathing under his hands, felt his legs shift as he undid the last few buttons, felt Shirogane's eyes on his, still watching.
He wanted to tell Shirogane to stop staring, that it was creepy, but the silence was new and unexpected, and filled with something like expectation. And when Akira stood up to push the coat from Shirogane's shoulders, Shirogane still said nothing, just sat up straighter, shrugged his shoulders back to help the coat slide off his arms, eyes always following Akira.
Underneath, the white of his shirt looked bright in the darkness of the room. He remembered then that he hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights; he never seemed to anymore, like he didn't need it. His eyes could see in the dark, in the shadows, like they never had before.
And Shirogane still watched him, carefully. Akira realised he was watching back.
He put a hand lightly on Shirogane's shoulder, seeing spots of blue on the material and ignoring the way Shirogane flinched a little at the touch.
"There's… blood," Akira said, bending forward to look. Blood wasn't blue, he tried to remind himself, but there wasn't any better word to describe it. And there had been so much of it earlier, when Akira had torn teeth from Shirogane's body.
Shirogane said, quietly, gently, "I'll be fine." He turned his head, and Akira realised how close they were. He could see Shirogane's red lips and his thick, white hair and his smooth skin and the long line of his neck. Shirogane breathed, "Akira," almost like a question, and Akira felt the cool breath on his own cheek.
This close, Akira could smell Shirogane, like rain and ozone and a bit like a crisp, icy winter morning. Akira wondered when he had become weird and started thinking things like that.
He blamed Shirogane. Shirogane, who was reaching for him, laying his good arm on Akira's but not pulling or pushing. Just touching and not saying a thing, looking at Akira with those old eyes that sometimes made Akira think Shirogane couldn't be trusted and sometimes made him think perhaps he could.
This was, Akira supposed, one of those moments people had in TV dramas when if one of them did something, said something, everything could change. Or neither of them could do anything and it would be like nothing had ever happened. Shirogane would still be Shirogane; annoying and false and clingy and secretive. And Akira would remain distant and suspicious and wary and straight.
Though, this was Shirogane, who was about as manly as his mother. But, whatever. Akira had never followed what was normal or done what everyone else did just because it was what people expected you to do.
This was Shirogane who was all white hair, and pale skin and soft face and, if you really looked, sad eyes. If he wasn't such a complete pervert and a liar and an annoying bastard he might be all right. And it might be all right to see what kissing him felt like.
Shirogane was annoying, yes; pretty, yes, there and there was something between them that Akira couldn't really ignore any more. Or maybe it was just that he had become bored with it all and couldn't be bothered to deny it anymore.
It wasn't like Akira had never kissed anyone before, but this was different. Not because Shirogane was a man, well, sort of in any case. More because he knew Shirogane. Because there was something of fate, something of rightness about being together. Feeling another beside you, fighting for their life as well as your own and not really sure why but knowing you were not going to let them die. Ever. Feeling Shirogane beside him in the park had been like that, fighting together. And now, with Shirogane watching him through the dim light of his bedroom late at night. He wondered what Shirogane saw,
"You really are an idiot, you know," Akira said, maybe whispered, and couldn't decide if it was just for forms sake or if he actually meant it because then, somehow, he was kissing Shirogane. Or else Shirogane was kissing him. It didn't really seem to matter, with strange cold lips beneath his own, not like before when it was about purpose and reason. Now it was more like a question, an experiment, a trial of feeling and want and a little bit like lust. Akira knew it, he was a boy; of course he knew lust. But it had never been this personal, like it might actually mean something.
And Shirogane said nothing, and closed his eyes even as Akira looked and looked and kissed and kissed and tentatively felt Shirogane's tongue with his own. Shirogane just left his hand on Akira's arm and didn't do anything else at all.
Akira had expected some sort of weird sexual harassment, some grabbing and grasping and lunacy. But all he got was quiet, indecision, sighs that sounded calm and content. Akira wondered if this was enough for Shirogane; if maybe all he really sought was companionship. Some kind of connection with another being.
Akira realized, this was his choice. Shirogane was letting him lead, following where he could, maybe encouraging a bit with light fingers rubbing gently across his arm and lips wielding but sure. Maybe it was Shirogane who wanted to be sure. Who needed to be sure that this was real. Without the teasing and the innuendo, there was this Shirogane. He was lonely and mistrustful and really did want this.
In his room, on his bed, Akira kissed Shirogane and closed his eyes too. He held Shirogane's arms in his hands, thin and brittle and strong and wielding. He pushed him back against the sheets and dug his hands into hair; his hair that had always seemed so distant and so untouchable. It was soft, glided through his fingers like air, and Shirogane pushed up into him, arms coming around Akira's shoulders.
He could feel him say, "Akira," and, "Akira" against his cheek and his neck and his ears and his lips and Akira didn't really know what he was doing but kissed and bit and licked, listening and learning. "That", and "This," and let Shirogane push hands under his shirt and run hands over his skin and liked it. He liked it so much he pushed back, scrabbling at Shirogane's weird clothes. Then he kissed Shirogane's shoulder and Shirogane hissed and turned his head away.
In anyone else Akira would think, he doesn't like this, but Shirogane's breath hitched and his hands grasped at Akira's hair and Akira knew he wanted this, and more, and didn't want him to stop. And Akira too. He'd never had this before, never really even wanted it. But Shirogane was so damn pliable and teasing and almost-not-there in a way that Akira thought Shirogane might just disappear, and there would be nothing left to indicate he had ever been there, if Akira just let go of his arms, stopped kissing him.
Akira let his hands roam across Shirogane's chest, feeling slim bone and that odd, silky fabric that whispered as his fingers stroked across it. And then Shirogane, god Shirogane's hands grasped at his hips and pulled Akira down on top of him. He said, "You won't hurt me," and, "I can't feel anything," his voice light and breathy in Akira's ear and he ran his tongue across Akira's neck and round his chin, trying to encourage him. Trying to get more and now.
It was a lie, Akira knew, because Shirogane arched away when Akira rubbed a hand along his collarbone. So Akira told him, "You do feel," and wasn't quite sure how to interpret the low chuckle he got in response. He kissed his mouth instead, and enjoyed the feel of Shirogane's tongue, and Shirogane's fingers curled in his shirt.
With his palm against Shirogane's cheek, he could feel the flush there and frowned, his hands trailing across Shirogane's forehead to feel sweat and Akira remembered that that wasn't right at all. "You have to rest," he remembered suddenly, berating himself for always letting Shirogane make him do stupid things.
Shirogane laughed, "This is restful," into his mouth and gripped Akira more tightly.
"It's not," Akira snorted, pulling back, but not far. He was straddling Shirogane, kneeling above him, hands either side of his head. He hadn't noticed it before, but his own breath came heavy and, shit, he needed and wanted and Shirogane was just laying there offering it all.
But. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, because Shirogane still hadn't let go of his shirt.
Shirogane looked up at him as though he didn't believe that at all.
"You want this," Shirogane argued, rubbed his thumb over Akira's elbow, but his injured arm lay still, like he was carefully holding it there,, and there was pain on his face. So Akira just shook his head and said, "I do, but not now. You're hurt."
It was, Akira reflected, one of the most difficult things he had ever made himself say because he really, really needed to get off, now, and Shirogane between his knees was definitely not helping. He sat back, levered himself sideways to sit next to Shirogane. Looking back at him, his eyes were closed again and he was frowning in what Akira suspected was more frustration than anything else.
"I'll sleep here too," Akira offered, and certainly did not blush when Shirogane's lips turned up into a smile at that. He really must have been exhausted, because all the fight just seemed to leave Shirogane then. He sighed, "Alright then," and would have gone to sleep right there, Akira thought, if he hadn't prodded him and pushed him to lie properly.
Before long they lay together, on Akira's bed, in Akira's dark room with the curtains mostly open allowing the mute oranges of the street lamps outside to bleed their colour across the carpet and down the walls. Shirogane lay, half-relaxed and half-resigned and Akira lay next to him, still in his shirt and his school trousers, and they didn't touch.
"I didn't think you would do that," Shirogane said, to the ceiling. His eyes still closed.
Akira replied, "I didn't either." Then because he had to ask, after this, and because this almost felt real now, like Shirogane wasn't just pretending, "You'll tell me? What's going on? Why you're here?" He wanted to add, "Who you are," and "Will you stay?" but those felt like too much and too uncertain for the quiet comfort they had somehow managed to find. Akira wondered if it could last; if this was just for one night. If tomorrow Shirogane would be go back to keeping his secrets and pushing Akira away and lying and lying.
Shirogane seemed to hear the questions anyway because he replied, "Who I am has nothing to do with this," and Akira felt Shirogane's cool fingers against his wrist. "But I will tell you." He sounded almost regretful at that, so Akira supposed he wouldn't be finding out anytime soon. Still, if they were like this, just sometimes, he supposed he could live with it.
He watched Shirogane as his breath evened out, feeling the cool press of Shirogane's hand against his wrist, and lying there, at rest for the first time in hours, Akira remembered there had been a fight, earlier, and he was tired too. His limbs ached and his head hurt and there wasn't that long before he'd have to get up for school. Before he could think anything more Akira was asleep too.
.END.
Comments and concrit for this one really appreciated!
For those four people, enjoy!
Title: Shadows Lead Astray
Rating: 13, 15-ish. I never know how to rate these things.
Words: 6,749
Summary: Monochrome Factor. Akira/Shirogane. Tag to Episode 2, otherwise known as Fan-Service-hurt-comfort-episode-Extroadinaire. With added stimulated sex. No rly. Please be ignoring canon inconsistencies lalala. Anyway, this is srs bsns.
After the fight, later, Akira and Shirogane face more Kokuchi. And each other.
Beta'd, as ever, by my beloved cienna. But, I added a lot more when I got it back from her so any remaining mistakes herein belong to me.
.Shadows Lead Astray.
It was fully dark by the time Akira stopped running, panting and sweating heavily in the humid summer air. He bent over, hands on his knees, and waited for Shirogane to make some completely stupid comment like he always did.
He wasn't, Akira assured himself, worried when Shirogane said nothing. Nor was he concerned in any way when he could barely even sense Shirogane's presence. The idiot was probably off somewhere with some other high school kid. Twisting his tales and smiling and leaning forward on his cane, peering down at them. Not that he cared. He'd had nothing but trouble since he'd met the crazy longhaired weirdo, and the sooner he disappeared the better.
Still. Akira had to admit that Shirogane could be useful to have around if he was going to get attacked by every random, vicious monster in Japan. He had, after all, saved his life a few times. Not that Akira couldn't take care of himself. He just got bored fighting sometimes. So, Akira reasoned, he should probably see where Shirogane had gone off to, because the sun had set and he was in no doubt that those ugly Kokuchi would come after him again tonight, just to annoy him. There was no way, Akira was sure, the annoying monsters would give him the night off just because he'd been injured earlier. Even though the memory of his wound being healed still burned through his body worse than the wound itself had. And if that wasn't an incentive to never get injured again Akira wasn't sure what would be.
Shirogane though, Akira remembered, hadn't cried out like he had. Granted he'd been unconscious for most of it, but then when he woken up he'd been oddly sedate, rubbing at his still blue-tinged shoulder like it ached. Akira supposed it probably did. It wasn't just a simple wound like his, but poison to Shirogane, Master had said. Not so easy to heal, but something that would take time and rest. But it wasn't like they had a choice if they were attacked. There was no telling the Kokuchi to come back later, when they were feeling better.
And how did shadows relax anyway? Akira wondered.
Maybe that was where Shirogane was now; hiding in some dark shadowy corner like the weirdo he was. Or maybe he was just trying to see if Akira would worry. Maybe he was testing Akira, to see if he cared, if he could do without him after they had spent every waking minute together for the last few days. And, Akira suspected, every one of his sleeping moments too.
On those long summer days, on the school roof or in Akira's room at night, the heat sticky and irritating, Shirogane was all teasing and talking about nothing and only ever giving half-answers and useless fighting tips like, "Don't strain your muscles too hard: you should do a warm up before you fight," (like there was ever time for that) and "You become shadow, they are shadow, your knife is shadow," (like that made any sense at all). But sometimes, Shirogane would turn serious, and he would suddenly look old and tired, and though he didn't say a word then, these times told Akira more about Shirogane than a thousand pointless conversations they had had.
Well, Akira huffed, he didn't care. He could look after himself, and if he was walking in the direction from which he could feel Shirogane's presence then it was only because it happened to be in the same direction as his home.
The streets were quiet this late; eerily quiet without Shirogane's inane prattling in his ear, street corners and alleys swamped with dark shadows reaching out from dull, deep orange street lamps, and for the first time since Akira had met Shirogane he thought that maybe the Kokuchi were something to be afraid of. He wondered if Shirogane feared them at all, behind his smiles and prancing. They could hurt him, Akira knew that now, had seen how the Kokuchi were toxic to Shirogane, painted in a crisscross of blue across Shirogane's white skin.
For a shadow, Akira reflected, Shirogane was really rather pale. Not that he often thought about Shirogane's skin.
Above him Akira could hear the faint rumble of electricity running through power lines, so like the nagging feeling of Shirogane's presence in his mind drawing him ever more urgently towards it that he wanted to block out the sound. It was the imminent threat of Kokuchi attack, Akira assured himself, urging him to move faster. He hummed tunelessly.
Anyway, Akira reminded himself, he was new at this so there was no need to be ashamed of needing help. Tomorrow, tomorrow there would be more Kokuchi probably, and Shirogane would close up the split in the worlds, or whatever it was he did, and Akira would stab some monsters. Tomorrow, Akira would be tired in the morning and he would bitch at Shirogane and Shirogane would flirt back. They would be fine. Shirogane was fine. He was not worried. And if Akira was jogging then it was because he needed to keep fit for his new role as local monster-killer.
The darkness felt oppressive, like the heat, closing in on him so it was difficult to breathe. Shadows crammed beside houses and fences and unimpressive plastic lean-tos and some feeling, some urgency, in Akira's mind told him they were dangerous, to get away from them, to find Shirogane. And if he was honest with himself, which right now Akira was not sure he wanted to be, Akira wasn't sure if his urgency was for his own sake or for Shirogane's.
Master had told him to stay out of trouble, to rest, but that was not how they lived, and Akira was pretty sure that was not how Shirogane had everlived. It was strange that then, as he ran through the streets of his neighbourhood out of some vague unease, he would wonder for the first time where Shirogane had come from. What was he really? What had he done before meeting Akira? Why was he trying to restore the balance he went on about all the time anyway?
Maybe he was just going for the tall, mysterious stranger act; trying to make himself more interesting and attractive than he really was. But that didn't seem right. It was more likely, Akira thought, that Shirogane had something to hide; that Akira wouldn't like the truth. Even though Shirogane asked him to trust in him, said things like, "You don't need to know," and "I'd never let anything bad happen to you, Akira," how could Akira be sure when Shirogane never gave him anything to believe in.
Still, he knew, like he knew that he had to sleep and he had to breathe, that this was something he had to do. He had to fight, to restore this balance of Shirogane's, to protect this world, whoever Shirogane was. And to do that, Akira supposed, he still needed the idiot's help.
Shirogane's presence was growing stronger, the weird tingling turning to something more kinetic that he felt in his toes. Akira followed it, letting the feeling wind along his arms and through his chest. He turned a corner, a gate, a closed-up futon store, a bathhouse with a dull green light bleeding out onto the pavement, then over a low barrier into what looked like a small public garden.
Akira stopped running then, knowing that Shirogane was close, and followed a path around some trees. He passed a small, dark fox shrine which spilled red light out onto the old concrete around it and into the leaves of the trees hanging above it so that it looked almost like autumn in that corner; it's only private, secret world. Akira turned a corner and the red light was gone, and in not far in front of him sat Shirogane, legs outstretched, face tilted back towards the sky, on an old wooden bench.
There was silence for a longer time than Akira ever thought possible with Shirogane around, making him wonder if Shirogane had even noticed he was there. It was weird, but Akira had no idea why he didn't say anything himself, like, announce his arrival or tell Shirogane to stop being an idiot. Instead, he just watched. Nothing, he realised. He was watching nothing. Shirogane wasn't smiling and he wasn't frowning. His legs weren't crossed or his arms folded, just laying at his sides and unmoving, unnaturally still. It was too hot, Akira thought, for the amount of clothes Shirogane was wearing; for the hat and the collar up to his neck. Akira was sweating in just his shirt, and not just because he'd been running about the streets for the past while. He wondered if Shirogane felt temperature at all. He supposed not, with no sweat on his face and no sign of discomfort in the stuffy night air. Then,
"Akira found me." Shirogane's voice was soft, his eyes still turned to the dark night above them.
"Shirogane," Akira said, shaking himself because he had been staring and he didn't quite know or want to know why. And he had no idea what to say. He couldn't ask, "Where have you been?" because that would sound too much like Akira actually wanted the idiot around. He couldn't ask, "Are you all right?" because that would have sounded too much like Akira actually cared. He'd just followed his instincts, and they had led him to Shirogane. So Akira decided to go with the obvious:
"You didn't follow me."
"I didn't follow you," Shirogane replied.
Akira frowned, wondering why he even bothered when Shirogane seemed terminally incapable of telling him anything, honestly or otherwise.
"Do you do that to annoy me?" he asked. Shirogane's eyes turned to him then and Akira could just see the lies forming there. "And don't say ‘do what'," he cut in before Shirogane even thought about starting that game. He was not in the mood. It was late, he was tired, he'd been stabbed and then subjected to Master's not-so-gentle healing only to have to chase around after his idiotic shadow stalker person for half the night.
Shirogane looked down at his feet, an odd sort of smile on his pale face.
"No, Akira," he said, voice quiet and almost serious. Then he turned back to Akira suddenly, grinning. "Were you worried?"
"Not a chance," Akira shot back. From the way Shirogane's smile grew even wider Akira thought perhaps he had replied a little bit too quickly.
"What are you doing sitting here anyway?" Akira asked, deciding it was most definitely time to change the subject. It was odd too, Akira thought, that Shirogane had made no move to get closer to him like he usually did. If anything, Shirogane seemed to be holding himself still, like it hurt to move.
Shirogane just shook his head and turned his face back towards the moon.
"I was admiring the night," he said, and it almost sounded like honesty.
"I thought maybe there were more Kokuchi around," Akira tried.
"That too." And that surprised Akira, because now he thought about it he could sense them, around, unclear, indiscernible, but definitely there. He'd just been so caught up in following Shirogane's presence that he hadn't even noticed.
He shook his head, dismissing the idea that he had been that concerned with finding Shirogane as ridiculous. He had just been too far away to sense them before, that was all.
But he felt them now.
"They are happy tonight," Shirogane said, his smile turning to something more wry.
Akira could feel that too. It was like they were gloating, laughing at them, daring them to fight.
"Because they stabbed us." Akira scoffed, because it was a pretty stupid thing to get cocky about considering the number of Kokuchi he alone had killed in the short time he'd been doing this. He had no idea how many Kokuchi Shirogane had killed in his life. He probably didn't want to know.
"There are a lot of them," Akira realised, watching Shirogane carefully as he leaned forward to stand, then seemed to think better of it and sank back against the bench.
"Akira will defeat them easily," Shirogane smiled, but it looked forced and strained on Shirogane's pale lips.
"Your arm still hurts," Akira said, and Shirogane's silence was confirmation enough. "The Kokuchi know…" Akira began.
"I'm fine," Shirogane interrupted, taking hold of his cane with his left hand and standing, right arm held stiffly against his chest.
"You shouldn't fight," Akira said, because even though he didn't much like Shirogane he didn't actually hate him, and it would certainly be too much of a pain if Shirogane got killed or something.
Shirogane shook his head. "I can always fight," he smiled tightly, and there was a strange edge to his voice. "This is nothing." Then, as suddenly as it had come, the weirdness was gone, replaced by Shirogane's usual creepy smirk. "But I am very glad that Akira is worried about me."
Akira just scoffed, shaking his head.
"Just get this stupid Doppler thing off me."
"Akira should be able to do that himself by now," Shirogane laughed, chuckled, but his eyes were elsewhere, focused on the shadows of the park around them.
The feeling, thick and heavy, like bone-dry ash in the back of your mouth, grew stronger, surrounding them until it felt as though it was pushing against his body from all sides. He knew Shirogane felt it too because he stood up straighter, his shoulders drawing back. That feeling, cool against skin and uncomfortable, seemed enough of an incentive for Shirogane to stop teasing, because then Akira felt the still unfamiliar weird pulling sensation which told him his shadow or soul or whatever was being ripped from its body.
Not too soon either, as immediately two tall, black masses launched themselves at Akira and it was all he could do to react instinctively, lunging forward, avoiding the Kokuchi's sharp, poisonous claws that Akira had already become fully acquainted with earlier that day thank you-very-much.
He drove forward, plunging his knives into the Kokuchi's stomach. These ones, Akira thought as he pulled back, watching the Kokuchi shatter into a million pieces, were strong but none too bright. Then there were three more lunging towards him out of the night so he shifted his weight left, rolling away from their outstretched claws and slashing at their legs. They screamed and he finished them with a blow to the chest, cutting off their howls. Akira sighed, grateful for the quiet because their cries always made his ears feel like they were going to burst or something. But there were still more around him, around them, and Akira felt more were coming. He could sense them, lingering in the shadows, watching.
They were not looking at him though, Akira noticed suddenly. They were looking at Shirogane.
Another Kokuchi swiped at Akira's head, and he was forced to refocus on his opponent, but as he dodged and slashed at the dark shapes of the Kokuchi attacking him, he couldn't forget Shirogane's pale face and slow moving hands and body held rigid as he sat on the park bench. It made him cold in a way he couldn't explain, and so he fought harder, pushed harder, moved faster; just to stay warm, he told himself, to test his strength, his speed, his skill. To show Shirogane he could do this, alone, without him. To show Shirogane that he didn't need him and certainly didn't want him around.
Then, as he twisted his knives into the backs of two more creatures, turning to face two more, he heard a shriek like nothing he'd ever heard before. It was so loud and so fierce it seemed to pierce his eardrums and reverberate through his bones, and it grew and grew as other Kokuchi took up the cry until it was so loud Akira thought the ground was shaking beneath him.
It then occurred to Akira that the Kokuchi had stopped fighting, which was probably a good thing seeing as the sound made his head hurt so much he doubted he'd be able to fend off even one of them like this, let alone the three surrounding him. Instead of attacking though, they turned away from him, towards the bench, and all Akira could think was Shirogane, and then he was moving again.
Akira lashed out, killing whatever got in his way, because he knew Shirogane was in pain, because he was too. Because he knew, could tell, that the wailing and the screaming was not a sign of the Kokuchi's displeasure or anger but was a celebration, cries of joy and success and something like gloating.
Idiot or not, stranger or friend, Akira wouldn't let Shirogane die. Of that he was sure. He pushed further into the crowd of Kokuchi, making them notice him, and he killed them even as they swatted him like he was an annoying fly. And it was weird, but it felt good. Not just fighting for some random unknown existential goal, but for a life. For someone he knew, for someone maybe he did sort of care about. A little bit. Sometimes.
Then the Kokuchi were turning back to him, remembering he still existed after all, and it made Akira feel a weird sense of grim satisfaction in the pit of his stomach that the Kokuchi weren't shouting like they were about to throw a party anymore. Instead, they growled and spat at his face and flicked their tongues in annoyance. Akira nodded, because that's how he thought it should be, and he stabbed and he slashed and he fought until he had cut his way through enough Kokuchi to see Shirogane, just ahead of him, his hand outstretched and his fingers splayed, a force-field of some kind surrounding him.
Through the shimmer of the shield Akira could see that Shirogane was sweating now and looking most decidedly not well. He was holding his cane loosely, and seemed to be muttering under his breath, concentrating Akira thought, until he fought his way through the remaining Kokuchi surrounding Shirogane to stand beside him, and then he could hear that Shirogane was saying,
"Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic," over and over again. He sounded annoyed and frustrated and really, really tired.
"Shirogane!" he called, ducking to the right to avoid the claws of a particularly agile Kokuchi. Shirogane's head snapped up, his eyes burning for a moment into Akira's, all anger and ferocity. And for just a second Akira could see a being who had killed and killed and had enjoyed it, and for a just a second Akira was almost afraid. But it passed, and Shirogane was Shirogane again; mystery and something close to indifference.
"I'm not having much luck today, Akira," he said lightly, but his smile was not much more than a curl of red lips.
"Yeah," Akira agreed. "I told you to stay out of it." Akira moved to stand in front of Shirogane, slashing at anything that dared come even remotely close.
Shirogane huffed out a laugh.
"I didn't really have that much of a choice," he said. Which Akira had to admit did actually make sense, but he wasn't going to tell Shirogane that.
"So what's with the shield thing?" he asked instead.
"I'm just taking a short rest," Akira replied, still infuriatingly calm and composed even though Akira could hear that he was slightly breathless, the strain making the force-field flicker haphazardly. Then, with a breath, Shirogane lowered his outstretched arm, drawing his fingers into a fist and the shield blinked out of existence. In that moment, as he saw Shirogane out of the corner of his eye wink at him before driving into the remaining crowd of Kokuchi with his cane outstretched, Akira knew this was their chance to finish the fight. Confused and surprised by the sudden change, the Kokuchi were almost too easy to kill. Slow to advance, slow to turn, slow to catch on that Shirogane was now tearing them to pieces rather than just fending them off, the Kokuchi fell. And it was over in minutes, like it should have been from the start.
Akira relaxed then, letting out a breath and wiping away the sweat on his forehead, watching Shirogane as he made his way carefully back to the bench and sort of gracefully collapsed back into it.
"I have school tomorrow, you know," Akira said, moving to stand beside the bench.
Shirogane nodded.
"So you do," he replied, then smiled widely. "Akira has become much stronger. I'm very impressed."
And for some reason that Akira didn't want to think about he actually felt his cheeks heating up and his fingers tingling. He was, he decided, going to put it down to fatigue.
"Thanks," Akira mumbled, because even if he wasn't going to admit that he sort of maybe sometimes didn't not like Shirogane, he could at least admit that Shirogane knew what he was doing when it came to Kokuchi. Usually.
Akira straightened.
"I can't wait around here all night for you," he said, trying to sound annoyed, tapping his foot impatiently.
"You don't have to wait for me, Akira," Shirogane replied. "I can look after myself."
Akira snorted.
"Oh yes, because you were looking after yourself so well a few minutes ago." But Shirogane just kept smiling, shook his head and made no move to stand up. And that actually did make Akira annoyed, so he announced,
"Okay. That's it," and gripped Shirogane's arm tightly, dragging him up and then pulling him along out of the park. "We're going home," he said, doing his best to sound authoritative.
Shirogane didn't struggle, didn't resist, and even more disturbingly didn't say anything at all. Just let himself be led down the narrow, dark streets silently. It was only then that Akira noticed that Shirogane didn't actually seem to weigh very much; it felt like grasping at air. Shirogane's feet made no noise against the ground, and the fabric of his clothing made no sound, and Akira couldn't even hear him breathing. If Akira hadn't been able to feel the solid arm beneath his fingers he wouldn't have known Shirogane was there at all. And he was most certainly not looking back to check, because even though he couldn't hear him, Akira could feel Shirogane; his presence, his existence, his eyes boring into the back of Akira's head.
"Stop that," Akira said, turning the corner into his street.
"Stop what?" Shirogane asked in reply, and Akira just knew Shirogane was laughing at him.
"Staring at me," he said, and hauled Shirogane in the most un-gentle fashion he could manage through the gate to his house.
"Ah, but Akira, why should I do that when it's such a nice sight," Shirogane said lightly, sighing dramatically, seemingly going for dreamy but it just came off sounding sort of weary. He let himself be pulled around to the side door, not even making any comment when Akira stopped, rifled through his pockets one handed to find the key and didn't let go of Shirogane's arm at all.
"You're going to sleep and you're going to shut up," Akira said when he had finally found the key.
"I don't really need to sleep, you know," Shirogane replied teasingly. It would be easy, Akira thought. It would be easy to get angry and shout and just give up and let go of Shirogane and tell him to do whatever the hell he wanted. That was, Akira thought, what Shirogane wanted him to do. But the idiot had saved him, and maybe there was something of guilt in this because it sort of was Akira's fault Shirogane had got hurt.
It would seem strange now too, Akira realised, not to have Shirogane at his side, being irritating and getting in the way and completely ruining his life. Except not always. Sometimes it was fun, with his friends. And it felt right, to fight, and sometimes to sit beside Shirogane and just not say anything (which, yes, was rare, but did occasionally happen). There was, after all, no one else that could explain to Akira what was going on; who he was, or why this was. He knew he couldn't let Shirogane not be there anymore. And maybe just a little bit he didn't want him to not be there.
There was no doubt in Akira's mind that Shirogane was a liar and a fraud and that there was far more to him than the idiot and the pervert he always acted as. But there was hope too, sometimes. When he thought Akira wasn't looking. He looked at Akira and there was something honest there then, like maybe he actually did like Akira too. Like maybe he actually did care.
So Akira wasn't going to let go, or play Shirogane's game and let himself be annoyed into ignoring the fact that Shirogane was in pain and weakened, and maybe actually in need of some help. Akira could sympathise with the aversion to sympathy, and dislike of pity and coddling, but he knew when he was over his head. He knew when he couldn't do something on his own. Unlike, apparently, Shirogane.
Instead, he told Shirogane, "You'll fall down if you don't," and unlocked the door, pulling Shirogane into the house where he couldn't reply. They went past the silent kitchen and into the hall and Akira pulled Shirogane up the stairs. Shirogane's arm was trembling a little under his hand, and he felt cool, cold even, through the sleeve of his coat, despite the stiflingly warm night and their earlier exertion.
Down the corridor, to the right, carefully opening the door and he was back in his room. Someone had opened his window and he was glad for the breeze in the stuffy night, in the small, enclosed space that sometimes seemed to make Shirogane fidget and squirm.
The door was barely even closed before Shirogane spoke up, his words fast, heavy, like he'd been waiting to talk for an eternity rather than what couldn't have been any more than two minutes.
"Akira is very angry," he said, tone false but forced, like the lies weren't coming so easily anymore. It was, if nothing else, telling as to how bad off Shirogane was. And, Akira lamented, how tragic it was that he could tell.
Akira shrugged, not willing to lie but not willing to admit to anything either. "I can't do anything for your shoulder," he said instead. "We'll go back to Master tomorrow."
He pulled Shirogane over to his bed and all but shoved him back onto it, and was not at all surprised to see Shirogane's raised eyebrow and grin. Before he could comment though, Akira added quickly, "Now go to sleep." Then just in case Shirogane still wasn't getting the point, he repeated, "To sleep".
Shirogane sighed heavily, tragically, but took off his hat and laid it on Akira's bedside lamp, shuffling back to sit fully on the bed. "You're no fun, Akira," he said, but half-heartedly at best; his eyes closed and there was colour at his cheeks that didn't look at all healthy and a weariness to his shoulders than made Akira think that perhaps it was more than the pain of injury that made Shirogane so tired. He wondered, not for the first time, how old Shirogane really was.
"Take off your coat," Akira said, because Shirogane was making no attempt to do anything other than sit there watching him as he went about clearing the floor so that he would have somewhere to sleep.
He looked up and saw Shirogane grimacing, but when he noticed Akira looking at him, Shirogane smiled and said, "We could just share your bed."
"And Kengo might become a brain surgeon," Akira shot back. He wondered, he really did, why he bothered at all. But it was a dangerous thing to think, because he knew, if he was honest with himself; he knew that he kind of liked this. He liked the way Shirogane was there to tease and look at him. And sometimes when Shirogane smiled without deception, but instead with familiar friendliness, or something like wistfulness, then those times, when Akira was sure Shirogane didn't know he was looking, Akira was convinced that Shirogane really did actually like him.
And now Shirogane was laughing, quietly, as though sharing some secret joke and it seemed real enough so Akira stood in front of Shirogane. "You're useless," he told him, kneeling and starting to undo the buttons of the long coat. "You know that?"
The material felt like silk under his fingers, the buttons like glass, and Shirogane fell silent. He felt Shirogane breathing under his hands, felt his legs shift as he undid the last few buttons, felt Shirogane's eyes on his, still watching.
He wanted to tell Shirogane to stop staring, that it was creepy, but the silence was new and unexpected, and filled with something like expectation. And when Akira stood up to push the coat from Shirogane's shoulders, Shirogane still said nothing, just sat up straighter, shrugged his shoulders back to help the coat slide off his arms, eyes always following Akira.
Underneath, the white of his shirt looked bright in the darkness of the room. He remembered then that he hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights; he never seemed to anymore, like he didn't need it. His eyes could see in the dark, in the shadows, like they never had before.
And Shirogane still watched him, carefully. Akira realised he was watching back.
He put a hand lightly on Shirogane's shoulder, seeing spots of blue on the material and ignoring the way Shirogane flinched a little at the touch.
"There's… blood," Akira said, bending forward to look. Blood wasn't blue, he tried to remind himself, but there wasn't any better word to describe it. And there had been so much of it earlier, when Akira had torn teeth from Shirogane's body.
Shirogane said, quietly, gently, "I'll be fine." He turned his head, and Akira realised how close they were. He could see Shirogane's red lips and his thick, white hair and his smooth skin and the long line of his neck. Shirogane breathed, "Akira," almost like a question, and Akira felt the cool breath on his own cheek.
This close, Akira could smell Shirogane, like rain and ozone and a bit like a crisp, icy winter morning. Akira wondered when he had become weird and started thinking things like that.
He blamed Shirogane. Shirogane, who was reaching for him, laying his good arm on Akira's but not pulling or pushing. Just touching and not saying a thing, looking at Akira with those old eyes that sometimes made Akira think Shirogane couldn't be trusted and sometimes made him think perhaps he could.
This was, Akira supposed, one of those moments people had in TV dramas when if one of them did something, said something, everything could change. Or neither of them could do anything and it would be like nothing had ever happened. Shirogane would still be Shirogane; annoying and false and clingy and secretive. And Akira would remain distant and suspicious and wary and straight.
Though, this was Shirogane, who was about as manly as his mother. But, whatever. Akira had never followed what was normal or done what everyone else did just because it was what people expected you to do.
This was Shirogane who was all white hair, and pale skin and soft face and, if you really looked, sad eyes. If he wasn't such a complete pervert and a liar and an annoying bastard he might be all right. And it might be all right to see what kissing him felt like.
Shirogane was annoying, yes; pretty, yes, there and there was something between them that Akira couldn't really ignore any more. Or maybe it was just that he had become bored with it all and couldn't be bothered to deny it anymore.
It wasn't like Akira had never kissed anyone before, but this was different. Not because Shirogane was a man, well, sort of in any case. More because he knew Shirogane. Because there was something of fate, something of rightness about being together. Feeling another beside you, fighting for their life as well as your own and not really sure why but knowing you were not going to let them die. Ever. Feeling Shirogane beside him in the park had been like that, fighting together. And now, with Shirogane watching him through the dim light of his bedroom late at night. He wondered what Shirogane saw,
"You really are an idiot, you know," Akira said, maybe whispered, and couldn't decide if it was just for forms sake or if he actually meant it because then, somehow, he was kissing Shirogane. Or else Shirogane was kissing him. It didn't really seem to matter, with strange cold lips beneath his own, not like before when it was about purpose and reason. Now it was more like a question, an experiment, a trial of feeling and want and a little bit like lust. Akira knew it, he was a boy; of course he knew lust. But it had never been this personal, like it might actually mean something.
And Shirogane said nothing, and closed his eyes even as Akira looked and looked and kissed and kissed and tentatively felt Shirogane's tongue with his own. Shirogane just left his hand on Akira's arm and didn't do anything else at all.
Akira had expected some sort of weird sexual harassment, some grabbing and grasping and lunacy. But all he got was quiet, indecision, sighs that sounded calm and content. Akira wondered if this was enough for Shirogane; if maybe all he really sought was companionship. Some kind of connection with another being.
Akira realized, this was his choice. Shirogane was letting him lead, following where he could, maybe encouraging a bit with light fingers rubbing gently across his arm and lips wielding but sure. Maybe it was Shirogane who wanted to be sure. Who needed to be sure that this was real. Without the teasing and the innuendo, there was this Shirogane. He was lonely and mistrustful and really did want this.
In his room, on his bed, Akira kissed Shirogane and closed his eyes too. He held Shirogane's arms in his hands, thin and brittle and strong and wielding. He pushed him back against the sheets and dug his hands into hair; his hair that had always seemed so distant and so untouchable. It was soft, glided through his fingers like air, and Shirogane pushed up into him, arms coming around Akira's shoulders.
He could feel him say, "Akira," and, "Akira" against his cheek and his neck and his ears and his lips and Akira didn't really know what he was doing but kissed and bit and licked, listening and learning. "That", and "This," and let Shirogane push hands under his shirt and run hands over his skin and liked it. He liked it so much he pushed back, scrabbling at Shirogane's weird clothes. Then he kissed Shirogane's shoulder and Shirogane hissed and turned his head away.
In anyone else Akira would think, he doesn't like this, but Shirogane's breath hitched and his hands grasped at Akira's hair and Akira knew he wanted this, and more, and didn't want him to stop. And Akira too. He'd never had this before, never really even wanted it. But Shirogane was so damn pliable and teasing and almost-not-there in a way that Akira thought Shirogane might just disappear, and there would be nothing left to indicate he had ever been there, if Akira just let go of his arms, stopped kissing him.
Akira let his hands roam across Shirogane's chest, feeling slim bone and that odd, silky fabric that whispered as his fingers stroked across it. And then Shirogane, god Shirogane's hands grasped at his hips and pulled Akira down on top of him. He said, "You won't hurt me," and, "I can't feel anything," his voice light and breathy in Akira's ear and he ran his tongue across Akira's neck and round his chin, trying to encourage him. Trying to get more and now.
It was a lie, Akira knew, because Shirogane arched away when Akira rubbed a hand along his collarbone. So Akira told him, "You do feel," and wasn't quite sure how to interpret the low chuckle he got in response. He kissed his mouth instead, and enjoyed the feel of Shirogane's tongue, and Shirogane's fingers curled in his shirt.
With his palm against Shirogane's cheek, he could feel the flush there and frowned, his hands trailing across Shirogane's forehead to feel sweat and Akira remembered that that wasn't right at all. "You have to rest," he remembered suddenly, berating himself for always letting Shirogane make him do stupid things.
Shirogane laughed, "This is restful," into his mouth and gripped Akira more tightly.
"It's not," Akira snorted, pulling back, but not far. He was straddling Shirogane, kneeling above him, hands either side of his head. He hadn't noticed it before, but his own breath came heavy and, shit, he needed and wanted and Shirogane was just laying there offering it all.
But. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, because Shirogane still hadn't let go of his shirt.
Shirogane looked up at him as though he didn't believe that at all.
"You want this," Shirogane argued, rubbed his thumb over Akira's elbow, but his injured arm lay still, like he was carefully holding it there,, and there was pain on his face. So Akira just shook his head and said, "I do, but not now. You're hurt."
It was, Akira reflected, one of the most difficult things he had ever made himself say because he really, really needed to get off, now, and Shirogane between his knees was definitely not helping. He sat back, levered himself sideways to sit next to Shirogane. Looking back at him, his eyes were closed again and he was frowning in what Akira suspected was more frustration than anything else.
"I'll sleep here too," Akira offered, and certainly did not blush when Shirogane's lips turned up into a smile at that. He really must have been exhausted, because all the fight just seemed to leave Shirogane then. He sighed, "Alright then," and would have gone to sleep right there, Akira thought, if he hadn't prodded him and pushed him to lie properly.
Before long they lay together, on Akira's bed, in Akira's dark room with the curtains mostly open allowing the mute oranges of the street lamps outside to bleed their colour across the carpet and down the walls. Shirogane lay, half-relaxed and half-resigned and Akira lay next to him, still in his shirt and his school trousers, and they didn't touch.
"I didn't think you would do that," Shirogane said, to the ceiling. His eyes still closed.
Akira replied, "I didn't either." Then because he had to ask, after this, and because this almost felt real now, like Shirogane wasn't just pretending, "You'll tell me? What's going on? Why you're here?" He wanted to add, "Who you are," and "Will you stay?" but those felt like too much and too uncertain for the quiet comfort they had somehow managed to find. Akira wondered if it could last; if this was just for one night. If tomorrow Shirogane would be go back to keeping his secrets and pushing Akira away and lying and lying.
Shirogane seemed to hear the questions anyway because he replied, "Who I am has nothing to do with this," and Akira felt Shirogane's cool fingers against his wrist. "But I will tell you." He sounded almost regretful at that, so Akira supposed he wouldn't be finding out anytime soon. Still, if they were like this, just sometimes, he supposed he could live with it.
He watched Shirogane as his breath evened out, feeling the cool press of Shirogane's hand against his wrist, and lying there, at rest for the first time in hours, Akira remembered there had been a fight, earlier, and he was tired too. His limbs ached and his head hurt and there wasn't that long before he'd have to get up for school. Before he could think anything more Akira was asleep too.
.END.
Comments and concrit for this one really appreciated!