Walk of Shame
Dec
02
Misaki winced as he tried to sneak out of the bed without waking Saruhiko. (more…)
Something New
Nov
23
“Are you sure about this?” Misaki sounded nervous, and his fingers fidgeted at Saruhiko’s hip.
Only You
Nov
23
They weren’t on the same page, they didn’t think the same thoughts, and they didn’t feel the same way. Not anymore. Once, they had—or it felt like it. Both of them had wanted to destroy the world they no longer belonged in, both of them wanted their own small world with each other. Both of them wanted power.
Now here they were with Homra, and they had it, and all Misaki could talk about were the people who’d claimed him as their own.
Saruhiko was beginning to realize Misaki had wanted another family, while Saruhiko had just wanted Misaki.
Amazing
Nov
20
It was almost bewildering, just how excited Misaki would get when Saruhiko let him play with the game he was working on or even look over his shoulder as he hacked through some supposedly secure system.
No one had ever been excited because Saruhiko did something for them or let him be around them. The only reward he’d ever received for creating before had been the immediate destruction of whatever he’d made.
“That’s amazing!” Then there was Misaki, eyes aglow, voice alight, and something lit up inside Saruhiko in response.
He found himself unable to quite hold in a smile.
Star-Crossed
Nov
20
Her first love came from the stars far more literally than Liz had ever imagined possible before Max had healed her, then revealed his secret. Of course, star-crossed lovers were the ones who were not meant to be.
It felt like stars bursting inside her when they kissed, when they even so much as touched. She saw stars when they lingered and reached for that other sight together. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to love anyone the way she loved Max.
Liz listened to his future self, hurting as she figured out how she could let him go.
Don’t Talk About It
Nov
19
Some things they don’t talk about.
They talk about battle plans and mission parameters. They talk about each other’s bad taste in clothes and vehicles and extracurricular activities, like trying to get oneself killed. They talk about video games and bets and how the other ought to get themselves killed.
They don’t talk about moments like this, washing each other’s wounds, unwrapping and rewrapping bandages because they don’t trust anyone else to do it, lying down on the same bed until morning because they’re partners. It’s as good an excuse as any.
Chuuya never asks why Dazai holds so tight.
This Feeling
Nov
19
Saruhiko woke suddenly. He didn’t move, though his heart beat too hard in his chest. But he didn’t live in that house any more, and the unfamiliar warm weight slotting comfortably against him wasn’t anyone dangerous. It was Misaki.
Saruhiko didn’t move, trying to process the arm slung easily over his waist, the breath evening out against the back of his neck, the way every part of his own body felt taut with tension, but he didn’t want to move or startle Misaki awake—or away.
He couldn’t quite make himself relax, but he stayed still until morning, feeling it.
Same Difference
Sep
21
When your husband tells you that you’re using your bedroom voice to talk to a coworker, it might be time to assess exactly how hung up on that coworker you’ve become.
Kalinda doesn’t like thinking about her own feelings though. She’ll stay in Chicago for Alicia, protect Alicia, threaten to sell her husband out to the cops for Alicia, but that’s no reason to stop sleeping around or start deciding exactly how much she might have fallen in love.
“Hey, Kalinda,” Alicia calls, finger raised. “Can you find out about the client’s family?”
The family they supposedly don’t have.
“Sure.”
Learning Curve
Jul
12
Anyone who was going to be Chuuya’s partner was going to be competent at knives.
Dazai winced and blew on his newly bleeding fingers. Chuuya held out his hand. Dazai stepped forward to hand back the knife.
“You meant to do that,” he accused in an undertone.
“You asked for the knife,” Chuuya answered incredulously.
“Yes, hand it to me, not throw it!”
Dazai glared at Chuuya. Chuuya glared at Dazai. They were teenagers, but when they were together, they might as well have been little kids.
Chuuya suddenly grinned, sharply. “I’ll teach you.”
“I am competent.”
“You are bleeding.”
A Touch of Magic
Jul
10
They talk about their mother all the time, but sometimes Mary swears Dickon sprung up full-formed from the moor that might as well have given him birth. The animals swarm him with delighted sounds, gentle as though they were tame, and plants grow under his fingers as though his blood sings with magic.
Skittish
Jul
05
The beanie had never been decorative. It kept people from bothering him, just as the loose sweatshirt served its own purposes to hide some of Yata’s less common features. He’d never liked leaving his tail out in public where anyone could grab it and pull and he’d only ever let one person give him scritches behind his ears, and that was a long time ago.
Take My Hand
Jun
01
Saruhiko caught his breath staring. No bone. No blood. No ash.
Mikoto gave a sort of bone deep weary sigh and leaned back with that tired look about him that sometimes made Saruhiko wonder if he ever felt regret.
“That’s too bad,” Kusanagi said.
Saruhiko blinked at him in surprise for the understated reaction, then looked down at his own hand. It was shaking. They’d said as much, but it was only hitting Saruhiko now that by taking Suoh Mikoto’s hand, he could have died.
A moment ago, there was a person. Now, there was nothing: no bone, blood, ash.
Pillows
May
31
Ostensibly, Mikoto knows what a pillow is. His personal definition, Kusanagi thinks with some chagrin as he tries to reach around a grumpy redhead’s hair and face to fill in the next problem on his math, seems to be the person I like’s lap.
Mikoto grunts a complaint and Kusanagi almost swats him on the side of the head. He refrains, but he can feel the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smile.
“Your choice to sleep there,” he comments easily, laying blame for all the awkwardness squarely where it belongs.
Mikoto just huffs. “Yeah.”
He stays.
Petting the Tiger
May
25
Atsushi was ninety percent certain there was some ulterior motive in Dazai assigning him to stake out the office of a certain official to record his comings and goings with Akutagawa of all people. Not that Dazai was the kind of person to explain his motives, nor was it Akutagawa’s to explain what interest the Mafia had in this information that Fukuzawa could possibly go along with.
Teasing
May
24
Yata wasn’t normally the fastest in picking up on conversation around him in the bar, but today he seemed particularly out of it.
“Are you all right?” Kamamoto asked.
He only got a mumbled reply, barely intelligible with Yata’s mouth buried in his arms on the counter.
“What’s wrong, Yata?” Kusanagi asked.
Yata looked up, blushed bright red. “What do you do when someone kisses you?”
The bar went quiet.
He blushed harder, buried his entire face.
“It depends,” Kusanagi answered. “Either you say you’re not interested or you kiss them back.”
“He’s interested.”
“It’s gotta be Fushimi.”
“Shut up!”
Soft Spot
May
21
Mikoto was like the kind of big cat that let kids crawl all over him. Particular kids. Just two really.
Anna could snuggle up right next to him and even tuck her hand into his without even a grunt of protest. Totsuka could make Mikoto his own personal blanket if he wanted and Mikoto wouldn’t do more than sigh.
He never failed to complain whenever Kusanagi encroached on nap space in an attempt to sit down, but then again, Mikoto may have been audibly put upon but he let Kusanagi sit down anyway.
“Softie,” Kusanagi teased.
Mikoto’s grumpy glare notwithstanding.
Paying Attention
May
21
Wanting Misaki like this was a discovery, unpleasant and unwelcome burning in his belly. It was easier when they were friends, then when they were enemies, easier than looking at Misaki’s cheerful face and realizing he wasn’t content to be friends again, even best friends.
“Saru! Pay attention!”
Saruhiko didn’t really need to pay that much attention to win the video game, but it would be helpful to think a little less about how distracting Misaki was and more on winning against him.
He didn’t. He leaned over, shoved the controller out of a startled Misaki’s hands, and kissed him.
Bloodless
May
18
Kyouka dreams sometimes of her mother, her old life, the before that might have been. She dreams sometimes of the future, of Atsushi and the Armed Detective Agency, of eating tofu on bright summer days.
A knife is in her hand. You have to kill in order to save them.
She stares at the blade and whispers to herself, “No.” Those days are behind her. Demon Snow is behind her, sword out, eyes blank and promising.
“No,” Kyouka says and throws herself into battle to fight the enemy and save whoever her dream has concocted.
She wakes with bloodless hands.