Archive of Our Own ^beta

“He’s here again.”

“Hm?”

“Your iced black coffee with oat milk, no sugar man,” Himeno says as she nods towards the door, crouching back down to sift through the fridge. They’re running low on soy milk; there might be a fit if they can’t get more by the time the evening rush hits. “Right on time, too.”

And Angel lifts his head, dog-earing his book and peeking from under his lashes to watch as the iced black coffee with oat milk, no sugar man walks through the door. Not his iced black coffee with oat milk, no sugar man, just—a man. That man.

Aki—Ah-kee.

Twenty-three, employed. Size ten shoe, wears a size large sweater. All useless information Himeno has squeezed out of him in one way or another in the past half a year. To then relay to Angel because she stuck her nose too far somewhere she wasn’t meant to the day Aki walked into that coffee shop for the first time.

Angel is usually indifferent to feelings. The world is full of attractive people, people themselves are attractive, the concept of them. As he’s gotten older, he finds comfort in solitude. It’s fine to be content with yourself; at the end of the day, everything is a whole lot less confusing when there’s only one pawn on the board.

Coming home to someone seems stifling. He hears his friends talk about things going sour; why subject himself to that?

Angel’s never really had the urge to scale someone until he met Aki.

Poke at a person and see what might knock loose with enough force. Climb to cling to, attractive but more. Something about him, Himeno would wax poetic. Poke fun and make sly jokes about how foolish Angel looks now after insisting he was fine not dating. ‘I don’t want to date anyone, so why would I go on a date?’

I am content alone, so why would I consider filling the place next to me? Too much effort, too much to lose, and I’m too tired to pick up pieces late at night when I could be sleeping instead.

Aki smokes Lucky Strikes. Had a cat when he was ten that got run over on Christmas while he was playing outside in the snow. Got hit in the head with a bat when he was younger, knocked him clean out, and he needed stitches. Cagey about his family, Himeno likes to prod a bit too much.

Angel likes to steal glances a bit too much, too.

Had tried once to make conversation, but it was a failed attempt to connect with another person. Like most things, Angel seems to say, relevant, sure, but falling a bit short. Aki didn’t seem too terribly interested, only stared with something like mild amusement, when Angel had told him, in response to his bat story, that he used to double-dutch when he was a kid. Was pretty good at it as well.

No one cares about that; Angel had only held up the line that day.

An ‘Oh, that’s neat’ in response was sufficient but lacking.

Aki comes in on Mondays and Wednesdays. Fridays and Saturdays. Sometimes Tuesdays, or so Angel has been told in passing while digging more puff pasties from the deep freezer last Monday, standing in the cold, staring at the expiration dates on the whipped cream as a casual, he asked about you was tossed out to be left alone when Angel slammed the door shut.

Like it’s any of his business to know.

About six foot two, if Angel was given an opportunity to offer an educated guess. Aki wears dress pants with normal shirts, half casual, half I mean business. His tight laced demeanor dashed to bits as soon as your eyes make it up his person and land on the earrings. The careless way his hair is tossed in a topknot most days. And although he always knows his order and never strays from it, Aki always takes too damn long to place it. A dead-eye stare just to spit out the same thing he’s said almost every day for the past six months.

Aki gives nothing to the world; he’s actually quite dull, can be on days when maybe he’s tired too, but Angel appreciates his carefree attitude when he messes up his coffee order. The way he waves his hand as he takes a sip and says, don’t worry about it.

Angel’s never had the pleasure of making a coffee for anyone else who sounds so much like they’ve got a gun to their back when ordering an iced coffee. To go.

He looks over at Himeno, turning where his chin is resting on his fist, leaning against the counter. A few people are taking up tables, someone who came in and ordered a tall blonde and hasn’t touched it since. Angel is sure it’s cold now; the man might walk up and ask them to reheat it. Both he and Himeno will, just to avoid having to ring the guy up again.

Angel’s thumbing at soft, worn pages when he meets Himeno’s eye and takes in the strawberry stain from this morning, dead center on her shirt. A watery, pink-tinged color around the cotton. He doesn’t know how Himeno can go about the rest of her day knowing there’s a massive spot on her shirt; Angel would have left early for that. It would have bugged him near stupid.

“You take his order.”

Himeno shakes her head; the wrapped loaf she’s holding crinkles in its package. “You haven’t taken an order all day; I don’t know how you get paid to not work.”

“Mmm, I think I’m going to take my break,” Angel hums. “You take his order.”

“It’s barely noon.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, lifting and pursing his lips. He looks around, skipping mister iced black coffee with oat milk, no sugar, walking their way and nods before scooping up his book. The morning rush over, it’s almost silent. “I’m a bit tired today, think I need to eat.”

“You ate two croissants this morning.”

“Yeah,” Angel says, drawing it out. “Yeah, but I’m really tired today.”

*

Which is true.

Angels takes his break out back, dragging over an old upturned milk carton, smearing waterlogged cigarette butts into broken bits of paper and ash under it, and plops down. Book in hand, lest someone walk by and want to discuss wages or coffee or the weather, he cracks the spine and picks up where he left off.

‘She had decided that he was the man she wanted, and she always got what she wanted. She dreamed about him, imagining him holding her, kissing her, making love to her in the way the girls at school had described. Yes, Adrien would be her first man.’

Angel’s brows raise, and he tsks.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, never does.

He does little more on his breaks than sit outside unless it’s the colder months when snow blankets the ground. Then he moves to his car, cranking the heat up and draping a jacket over his shoulders, passing the time blissfully not working for a tiny slice of his day. If anyone happens to walk by, it’s leaning his head back and pretending to be asleep.

The air today is just nearing a bit too cold to be out without a sweater, but the uniform does not allow jackets or sweaters, and it’s toasty inside. Angel left his sweater on the rack in the break room, and going back inside risks not making it out.

Himeno’s been on his ass; said the next time Angel is late, she’s gonna tell Kishibe.

He slumps further against the brick wall, hearing the milk crate groan under him.

‘She had never been held by a man, not tenderly, for she didn’t count Tom Peesley and his bruising embrace.’

Angel hums, licks a finger, and flips the page.

‘But Peesly was the first man to ever kiss her with passion. She prayed that such brutal kissing was not typical—’

Twisting his hair up into a knot on top of his head, letting it rest against the brick, he sighs. Next to the overflowing dumpster and the stain on the concrete where Denji had spilled his mocha when running out the back door after closing. Busting a knee, leaving his shift coffee-less. A shit-colored stain on cracked asphalt; someone really needs to hose it off.

There’s birds, there’s cars. The same as always, it’s all quite boring.

‘There had to be an in-between kind of kiss, something that would stir her, make her faint, as she had read about in the romantic novels that were smuggled into school. That was the kind of kiss Samantha dreamed about, the kind she knew Adrian would give her—if he ever got around to it.’

Angel lolls his head to the side, watching a few people walk across the street. Pulling their jackets tighter around themselves, making their way through the little city center he works in.

The sky is fading away to a cool blue, hints of fiery red lining the tops of buildings he can see in the background; everything is toned down and a bit warm despite the wind. People are hurrying, there’s a pep to their step like even if they don’t have anywhere to be, the changing of the season has caught up with them again regardless.

A family with a kid, Angel watches as both parents hold one of the little girl’s hands, swinging her high before she lands back to earth. Another couple is holding hands, and a woman is leaning on a man’s shoulder. A random straggler by himself, hand shoved in his pocket.

Angel's hair falls in his face, messed about by the wind, and it gets caught and tangled on the bricks when he realizes that it’s Aki.

Walking back towards his shop nestled on the opposite corner of the center. A green storefront with even more greenery spilling about before the front double doors. One of them propped open wide, it’s a lot to take in at the end of the night, pots upon pots of flowers and a few cacti, and Angel often sees him making numerous trips when Aki gets off work in the evenings. Rolling his sleeves up, Angel doesn’t buy into the whole muscles flexing bit, but—

A flower shop.

Angel’s never gone in there himself, but Himeno says it’s cute and neat and tidy, and it’s family-run, much better than the corporate birthchild Angel shows up to work his eight to five at. Sometimes eight to three, when he’s a bit too tired and more of a hindrance being there than not.

Carrying his coffee, Aki stops at the crosswalk, waiting his turn before looking both ways and stepping off the curb. Angel’s never gotten a good look at his shoes before, and they’re underwhelming. Dirty and worn. Aki hesitates, almost getting run down by that little girl, now running away from her parents while getting scolded. It makes Angel laugh at the hesitation in Aki’s steps and the way he makes room for the little girl to pass by.

And then Aki stops and glances up.

Standing in the middle of the road, eyes scanning the horizon. Hair whipping in his face, facing the sun. Angel balks before stuffing his nose back in his book, trying to find where his fingers had slipped from his page, but their eyes meet before he can really play it off.

Aki stares.

Angel purses his lips.

And watches another moment of hesitation, where Aki goes to wave, but instead, pulls his other hand out of his pocket, switches the coffee, and then waves. Something small, really just a lift of his arm and maybe a twitch of long fingers.

Unnecessary. Endearing. Aki doesn’t wait for a wave back before shuffling away, head down.

*

“Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

“No,” Angel says, turning around and locking the store door. This is the second time he’s had to; he forgot to turn off the closed sign the first time. Pocketing the keys, leaning and rattling the handle to make sure it’s locked, his backpack slips from his shoulder, and Angel takes a heavy breath before turning around. “Tomorrow is Monday.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Well,” Angel says. “Then tomorrow is Sunday. No, I don’t have plans,” he amends. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

“Now you do,” Himeno says, shoving her pack of cigarettes back into her pocket, mumbling around the one in her mouth. It almost falls, and she grabs it. “I want to go to the movies. And I want someone to go with me.”

Angel stuffs his hands in his pockets, glancing around the empty parking lot. The sun has long set, and all the shops are dark for the night. It’s silent but for them, they closed together.

He hums. “Well, I don’t want to go.”

“Too bad, I covered for you two weeks ago and never cashed in my favor.”

“Oh,” Angel sighs, gnawing at his lips. Weighing the pros and cons of pulling a more severe card than I don’t want to go. Maybe something like Power needs my help, or the cat has to go to the vet. Maybe Angel needs to make an emergency trip to see family, but he can’t remember if Himeno knows he has no family.

Angel looks over and purses his lips. Sighs again and squints out at the streetlight in the distance. The one he always parks under. Spotting his car and closing both eyes, he offers a slow blink before, “Okay. What time?”

“Six.”

“That’s early,” he says under his breath, cursing. Trying to find his keys, fingers getting a bit cold. Icey wind pricks at his skin, and the temperature is dropping. They’re meant to get bad weather this coming week; the news had told him as much last night.

Or it’s just that Angel probably needs to go home and tidy up. Feed the cat; Power surely isn’t home yet. Or won’t be until late today. Tomorrow, too, probably. Yeah, and Angel just got new sheets, and they were pretty comfy, and he’s been working a few doubles. There’s laundry to be done. The couch is lonely; he doesn’t have plans, but he has plans. What one does when they have an absence of plans.

Either way, he sighs. Jams the keys into the door of his car before turning the lock.

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

*

“Why are we standing outside?” Angel asks, hands shoved in a too-large zip-up he stole from the lost and found at work two years ago. It’s grey, it has a few stains. It’s comfortable. Risking the wind to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, he watches Himeno on her third cigarette of the night. Since they got out of the car. The movie starts in ten minutes, and they haven’t even gotten popcorn yet.

Angel’s antsy about that, twisting in his spot as he tries to keep warm and not look at his phone again. To check the time. He likes to be on time; they paid to see a movie, and it seems silly to miss out on previews. That’s half the fun, and the line inside appears to be getting longer.

“Just let me finish this one.”

Angel frowns. “We still have to get popcorn, and I think I want an icee.”

“It’s cold out.”

“And it’s warm in the theater, I hope,” Angels says, looking out at the few stars he can see in the sky.

Himeno wanted to go to the nice theater, so there they were. Sat up on top of a hill, really just an overpass for the highway. Settling them above the rest of humanity, some sort of man-made, consumerism-induced throne.

Angel squints and watches one of the stars blink out of existence as Himeno says,

“Well, you go and get popcorn, then. I’ll follow you in after this.”

*

“One large popcorn, please. Extra butter. Layered.”

“Anything else?”

Angel tongues at the inside of his cheek, scanning the menu. Scratching at a bug bite on his wrist and peeking around the kid taking his order, trying to spot the icee flavors. There’s cherry, some sort of out-of-season fruity something or another. Nothing vanilla, he sighs.

Mumbles, “No, that’s all.”

He thumbs at the candy near the register while he waits, feeling the stale red vines and the lack of M&M's in the M&M bag. Side-eyeing to make sure they really do layer the popcorn, he grabs it when offered and turns. Angel’s already halfway to Himeno when he finally spots Himeno.

And she looks entirely too pleased with herself.

“Look who I found!”

Angel comes to a stop in front of them, holding the warm popcorn to his chest. Swallowing down a big bite, tonguing at a kernel stuck in a back tooth. He mumbles, “Hi.”

And Aki does that awkward wave again when Angel meets his eye.

Always standing too straight, like he values posture. He’s wearing the same thing he always does, and one of his shoes is half untied. Standing, making a stronghold with Himeno built from deception and lies. Frail excuses of needing something to go to the movies with her, Angel purses his lips.

Aki slides his phone into his back pocket. His gaze then goes to the popcorn. Then Angel’s general person. His sweater, it lingers on Angel’s hands where the too-big sweater is covering them. He doesn’t like the greasy butter feeling that sometimes is on the outside of the bucket.

Too quick, all in two seconds flat.

And this is an issue. Angel would throttle Himeno if he could find it in himself to act on such an urge.

Work is one thing, everything is already tainted with a thin layer of I rather not be here. I’m in a miserable mood, I’m having to work. Coffee is not my passion, I don’t want to make a drink unless I get to drink it myself.

Angel can handle seeing Aki there because it is there. He exists only as a person who comes in and orders, another person who happens to contribute to his general miserableness. Another customer in his day. Who waits by the expo line, sometimes gets a cookie if it’s later in the evening and they still have them in stock. Goes back to his shop, when Angel happens to see him outside of work, say, walking back to his flower shop, that’s only an extension of work itself. He’s still on the clock, then.

Angel is not on the clock at the moment.

And Angel still hasn’t really figured out where this crush is meant to go.

“Hey,” Aki says, a quick nod. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Short and succinct, no excuses. No grand explanation for this quick little trick that’s just been pulled on Angel; he appreciates it. Appreciates the honesty but doesn’t appreciate the conversation he’s going to have to have with Himeno come this following week about minding her fucking business.

She’s been trying to get this, whatever this is, to happen since the first time Aki stepped foot in their work. Seems she caught Angel with his guard down, but he can swallow that. Nods as he glances at her, admits his defeat, and her subsequent win.

“No, not at all,” Angel says around another bite. Nodding towards the theater and giving them both a quick smile.

*

Angel picks up Himeno’s candy wrapper and tosses it in his empty popcorn bucket. Gathering a few pieces that had fallen in his seat during the past two hours, dusting a smattering of stray crumbs off his sweater, he follows Aki out of the theater. The credits are still running; Angel watches his feet as he makes his way down the stairs.

Almost runs into Aki’s back when Himeno trips. There’s a laugh; it’s dark. Angel can see the tiny lights dotting the stairs and how they need to be cleaned. Wiped down, at least, they’re dull and faded from the years. Angel goes to shoot his hand out, to catch his own fall when he near misses a step but trips anyway.

Ever so slightly, Aki’s back is too far away to help, and his toe is stubbed.

Aki glances back, offering a hand, but Angel bats it away.

And that awkward post-movie silence follows them all the way through tossing their trash, landing them standing outside again.

“Well,” Himeno says, turning and grinning. Clasping her hands together, Angel doesn’t like this one bit. “I thought it was great; I love movies, though. What about you two?”

Small talk, she’s not sly. Angel spares a glance at Aki, who looks like he’s surprised he might do such a thing. They’re shoulder to shoulder, two against one. With a slight shrug, Angel thinks he can just make out the start of a smile on Aki’s face before,

“It was good.”

“It was alright.”

But Himeno interrupts them, holding up a finger as his and Aki’s voice tapers off, watching as she pulls her phone out and pokes at the screen. Himeno’s lips form a line before she turns and looks apologetic.

Angel sighs as she says,

“I hate to do this—oh, I’m so sorry. I have to go, fuck,” Himeno curses, shaking her head and tonguing at the inside of her cheek. Then her face lights up; Angel rolls his eyes this time. “Aki, I drove Angel here. Is there any way you could drop him off? I’m so sorry, it’s just that I—”

“Oh, no, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Positive?” Himeno pouts as Angel stands there. Watches it all unfold. “You don’t have any other plans?”

“It’s Sunday.”

Angel nods in agreement; very few people are busy on Sunday. Only maybe the church-going type, which Angel is not, and Aki looks to be in the same boat. Anyone who lies like Himeno also must not go; they probably wouldn’t let her in.

Angel’s brows raise as he adjusts where his backpack is resting on his shoulders. He spares a glance at Aki again, looking over and up, and that’s a soft smile. Genuine.

Angel purses his lips.

“Okay, great,” Himeno grins before casting Angel a glance. Not quite meeting his stare, staring dead center of his forehead. Shot down, right between the eyes. “Sorry about this. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Angel says with a quick smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

And the ride back to Angel’s apartment isn’t awkward or uncomfortable.

Aki has a nice car, much nicer than Angel’s, but there are things that somehow make the fifteen minutes less stuffy. A few empty cigarette cartons tossed in the passenger floorboard. Change in the center console, an old coffee in one of the cupholders. It smells of someone’s car, not just a car.

It’s humanizing; there are little specs of dust on the dash that look like old cigarette ash. Angel reaches out and brushes some of them away before crossing his legs in the seat.

“Do you like living over here?” Aki asks eventually, a grasp at small talk. Reeking of we’ve never really spoken, it would seem I know Himeno better than you but I’m not stuck in a car with her.

“It’s alright enough,” Angel says. “Close to work. I didn’t really get to pick where to live, just what we could afford.”

A nod in silence; the radio is on level four.

“You live alone?”

Angel glances back. “No, I have a roommate.”

The streetlights are flooding through the front window in steady increments, casting Aki and then Angel in a cool blue light every few feet. Every once in a while, it’s an orange glow from a stray, different-hued bulb. The little clock on the dash says ten past ten in neon green numbers.

“Where do you live?” Angel offers up eventually, curious now. Tacks on, “Over here too?”

“Opposite direction, about ten minutes from the shop.”

Angel hums. Nods slowly and looks around, trying to think. There’s a wince building, and he feels, for the first time, a bit lacking. It’s not a good feeling; it kind of burns of inadequacy. Of always trying and trying and possibly falling short. But at least then, he will know he’s short, and it’s better to know—

“You like work?”

Aki snorts. “It’s work, I don’t love it.”

Angel nods again, offers a hum. Turning to look out the window. Resting an elbow on the sill, it’s just hard—to look at him. Aki. Angel thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of playing it cool; thinks he might lack enough substance sometimes to play it any other way, but it’s too quiet now. Small talk had seemed a good idea, but small talk has never been his forte, and Angel’s out of ideas of what to say.

There are the things in the car he could point out, use as cue cards, but asking if Aki smokes those cigarettes by his feet seems pointless as he knows he does. They’re clearly his, and that coffee is clearly from Angel’s work. Angel would like to know the small things, but also, no one likes to talk about such inconsequential topics as do you think it’s going to rain tomorrow or the weather.

At the risk of sounding insane, like someone out of their depth, he mumbles, “I started reading a good book the other day.”

“Oh, yeah?” Aki says, and that’s genuine intrigue in his tone. He glances back; Angel meets his eye and sees a smile.

He nods. “Yeah.”

*

“And did you bring me the extra popcorn?”

Angel jumps when he turns to shut the car door. Looking back, catching Power leaning over the top balcony of their apartment. Meowy is in her arms, squirming, and there’s a soft meow that floats down to Angel’s ear. A longer meow, clearly irritation. Angel doesn’t know why she insists on bringing the cat outside; the poor thing is terrified of the world.

Power shouts again; they get noise complaints often. It’s a whole big deal having to speak to management in the office and they don’t really like Angel. He doesn’t know why.

“Popcorn! Popcorn—where is it? You promised with extra butter.”

And it feels a whole lot like prom night.

His date getting out of the car, shutting the door, and holding Angel’s open. Standing by. Standing there before his home, Aki is silent. Hands in his pockets, glancing between Power, the cat, Angel, and the general place. A nice enough apartment complex, what they had been able to afford.

“No,” Angel shouts once he walks up the sidewalk, getting closer. Standing there, staring up and shielding his eyes to try and see Power better. Shrugging on his backpack and glancing back at Aki. “I ate it all, sorry.”

“Agh, the worst!”

An over-exaggerated pout and an aww whined into the night as Angel makes his way to the back of the building. Up the stairs, he can hear Aki's footsteps behind him. One, then two, two sets of hollow thuds as they take the stairs. Soles scraping against concrete, passing by flower pots, and welcome mats worn from the weather. A few rugs tossed over the railing, left out to dry and they’ll be wet again if they’re not brought in early enough tomorrow morning.

It’s supposed to rain.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door, you know,” Angel says when he catches sight of their place. A poor attempt at a joke, Angel is funny, yes, but, well. “I won’t get lost.”

“It’s dark out, I don’t mind.”

Angel purses his lips. Makes it to their front door, shoving the key in and shoulder-butting the wood, getting it to unlock. Turning back, he hesitates for a second, barely catching a glimpse of a faint smile, before he says,

“Do you want to come in?”

It’s what one does if someone is outside of your home; you offer to let them in. Even if it’s turned down, Angel’s never really been in this situation. In a situation as half-situation-ish as this. That was not a date, but what constitutes a date? Do both parties have to be willing contestants? Can a not-date turn into one without those on the date realizing?

He’s never really been on a date, thinks if it was a date, it was kind of lackluster.

But Aki also looks like he might be cold, and maybe it’s a bit of a drive home for him. Maybe coming in for a moment might be nice. Maybe Power will behave, and they have a cat; everyone likes cats. It’s selfishly motivated, smoothed over by a politeness Angel himself has never really given much of a thought to.

Angel lives his life simply, and this is not simple. It’s fine, but not simple.

Aki hesitates; his chin tilts a bit before he says, “Sure, yeah. Thanks.”

*

“We have tea, or I’m pretty sure there’s coffee,” Angel says, standing in his kitchen. He glances back at Aki, doesn’t seem like either of those strikes his fancy, so, “Or I think there’s maybe orange juice,” he mumbles. “If Power didn’t drink it all this morning, she really likes orange juice, I dunno.”

And that’s a laugh.

Angel whips his head around, sees the laugh, and feels weird. Foolish, maybe, but also not. It’s a lovely sound aimed straight at his heart, and that’s just not fair. The way Aki looks a bit too big sitting at their small kitchen table, politely setting a few piles of bills off to the side.

There is orange juice; might as well offer everything they have. Not in an overzealous way, just—

“Coffee, please.”

“I must have you know,” Angel bites back a laugh of his own. Something small as he gets to work. Another joke, maybe this one will land. “I’ve been told I make horrible coffee.”

“You work at a coffee shop.”

Angel side eyes him, thinks maybe they are joking now. That it worked, and if that’s the case, then this might be easy. They’ve graduated to things a bit looser. Angel can finally breathe a bit easier.

“I work there. I get paid to follow instructions on a piece of paper.”

“Is that why you still mess mine up every week?”

Angel only waves a hand at him, biting his lip.

And he makes the coffee the way he always does. Nothing special; that seems a bit overkill. Just coffee, something to busy his hands, and then it’s silent again as Angel rests against the counter, listening to the pot sputter and crack out a too-dark liquid.

It’s inadequate, what Angel is offering up, but Aki seems to be content to sit there and listen. To the sounds of the house, Power somewhere in her room, the TV on too loud. Meowy munching away at her food in the living room. Sat in one of the kitchen chairs, Aki rests his chin in his palm and his eyes are closed.

Eventually, Meowy makes her way over when Angel reaches up to grab a coffee cup. Glancing back to see Aki lean down, petting behind her ears, talking to the cat softly.

“Can I pick you up?”

“Okay, okay, hold on—oof, you’re a heavy one, aren't you?”

Angel thinks he really does like him quite a lot.

Aki gets lucky a week later.

Walking into the coffee shop, listening to the little bell above ring out, there’s a fondness somewhere rooting around at the sight before him. Has been there for a while, settled in and creating a home of a specific shape, pushing up against his heart. Making things itch.

Angel is at the register, book open, and despite the lack of crowd and the tinny bell, he doesn’t look up.

Might just be the worst barista on this side of town.

Aki’s never had coffee as bad as when Angel makes it. Too sweet or not sweet each, bitter, and sometimes it’s just water—almost. It’s horrible; you have to choke it down. Aki is convinced Angel would be better off working any other job ever than the one he currently does, but in one way or another, Aki is keeping him around. Keeps shelling out seven dollars every day he can, sometimes more like fifteen when he gets a bit overzealous with the tip. He just can’t not see him, and paying the price by choking down overpriced, watery, bitter coffee is fine by him.

That’s why he’s there again today.

Angel waits until the last second to close that book; there’s humor Aki is trying to hide, noticing it’s another one of those Angel books. What he’s come to know and refer to them as. Novels only women over forty would pick up, wanting spice in a life that offers none. It’s strange, it’s funny.

It’s endearing; it somehow fits Angel to a tee.

Aki clears his throat, tapping a finger on the counter twice. Angel looks up, and,

“Oh. Hi.”

Aki smiles; it’s tight. It feels dirty, purposefully catching him off guard to try and grasp even a sliver of something. But the way Angel says hi, it would knock Aki over if he wasn’t made of slightly tougher stuff. He’s gotten good at rolling with the punches, fighting down this embarrassing schoolyard crush that’s gotten a tad out of control.

Had come over him one day, watching Angel try to gather his things to go into work.

During the morning shift, Aki had stood in front of his shop, setting out plants for the day in the early summer, and heard a loud curse. Had looked up, and there Angel was, hair almost firey in the rising sun, mumbling to himself. Picking up the contents of his backpack that had spilled all over the parking lot. Sighing eventually, he rested his head on the car door before walking into work.

Aki had wanted to walk over and say,

“Hi.”

“What can I get you?” Angel asks, standing and putting his book on a low shelf. A hand brushed down his sweater; his hair is up today. Toppling over in a bun, stray hairs are falling to frame his face, and Aki has always wanted to ask Angel if that’s his real hair color.

Knows it is, but just wants to ask. Wants to say, ‘Tell me everything about yourself, don’t leave anything out.’

“An iced black coffee with oat milk, no sugar, please,” he says, and Aki knows he doesn’t need to, but Angel seems too content to let him repeat the order from memory. “And a cookie—if you have them, please.”

Angel tsks, and that’s a sly smirk. Something new, it’s playful, and maybe it’s Aki’s lucky day. He’s seen that face before, but usually, it’s reserved for Angel’s coworkers. His friends. Aki isn’t sure he’s considered a friend, kind of wants to be, but also thinks that could be a noose around his neck if he were.

“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t. I don’t know.”

Said casually as he rings him up, like maybe Aki will get his cookie, but perhaps he won’t. Angel doesn’t know either; it’s always musings with him like he’s simultaneously sure of just about everything while walking through the world with a faint hesitation that makes Aki want to double-check things twice as well.

It makes him want to carry himself with caution for the time he’s given here on earth.

Makes him laugh as well.

Very dramatic stuff, which is why it’s become a problem. Angel is a problem, and Aki feels terrible about the movie stunt as well. Kind of. Himeno is much easier to talk to and even quicker to pick up what Aki hasn’t even set down yet.

He supposes he owes her one.

Coffee after the movie had been fine, small talk stilted by the air of someone new in your home, being in someone’s house for the first time. Gentle smiles. Aki had wanted to try and stretch just a bit more, but he’s patient. Thinks what’s before him is already more than enough.

A pat to the cat’s head, a shouted goodbye from Angel’s roommate, and then a door shut before him. A silent drive home. A content evening, all around great. A good night's sleep, Aki’s gotten almost a full eight hours every night since.

“We have chocolate or sugar; pick one.”

Blunt, to the point. If it were anyone else, Aki would take it personally, but in his case, it’s refreshing. Standard, cut and dry, and for someone so open and take me as I am as Angel, there’s a slight blush to his cheeks as he stands before Aki, holding a chocolate cookie in one hand and a sugar in the other. Like maybe he wishes he was different, Angel strikes Aki as that type of person.

Two cookies held out to him—pick one.

“Chocolate.”

Angel makes a face, disappointed at Aki’s choice, surely, and tosses the sugar cookie back into its bin. It thuds to the bottom and might have broken. Like Aki said, the worst barista maybe ever. Angel says nothing else as he turns to make his coffee. Himeno is on her break, Aki saw her out back.

Had spoken to her briefly and says,

“Himeno wants to go see another movie this weekend.”

“With us, or is she going to pull up and toss me out of the car this time?” Angel turns as he pours and meets Aki’s stare dead on. “Another trick.”

“Not a trick. I want to see the movie, too.”

A hum, a huff. Angel might roll his eyes, but Aki doesn’t see. Can hear, though, a mumbled, “Sure, okay.”

*

And he’s closing up that evening when Angel comes into the shop for the first time.

“Oh, these are pretty.”

Soft and mumbled, drawing Aki away from where he’s counting the register. Settling papers and orders for tomorrow, trying to make things easier for the opening shift.

Aki looks up and can’t help but smile. Offers a slight laugh to the world because he’s stressed. Has wedding and funeral orders going out this following Friday and can’t seem to find the flowers he needs. Things are out of season; he’s getting bad batches. Families are going to be crying; it’s been a long day.

But he can’t help but step around the counter. Rest against the front of it and cross his arms as he says, “Those are peonies.”

Angel is all bundled up, a soft-looking scarf around his neck that’s hiding a bit of his face. His hair stuck under it, falling over it. It’s a tangled mess; the wind has done a number on it, and his nose is pink. Little fingerless gloves, his jacket looks warm.

“Yeah?” Angel asks, looking up from where he’s standing before the display. Cradling the soft pink flower in his hand. Poking at it with a finger and touching the petal with care.

“They’re actually called angel cheeks.”

And that’s the reaction Aki had wanted; it’s cute. Sweet and honest, and Angel lights up for a moment. Eyes going wide; there’s a brightness there from within as his lips part, and he looks at Aki. A moment caught off guard before he draws back, a careful smile, his cheeks rise with it.

“They named a flower after me?”

“Well, I’m not sure they named it after you.”

Angel purses his lips. Rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting an even bigger grin. “Well, I don’t know any other Angels, so.”

“No, I don’t either,” Aki says, tonguing at the inside of his cheek. Angel is still staring at the flowers, and maybe. Maybe there’s perhaps a slight blush there, complimenting the dusty pink of the petals. “Did you need something?”

“Oh,” Angel says, looking up. Dropping the peony and crossing his arms. Glancing around, “No, no, not at all. I had just never been in here, and I wanted to come and see.”

“It’s usually much neater; we got a lot of deliveries today.”

“You own the place?”

“It was my mother’s.”

Angel nods, granting Aki a side glance. His eyes narrow a bit, ever so perceptive. Then he’s poking around, prodding at the shelf full of baskets they use for arrangements. The little Christmas section, poinsettias in too-expensive pots, and tinsel and ribbon strung up on the wall. He flicks at the helium tank they use to blow up balloons before continuing his route around the front room.

He gets to the massive bag of Christmas stuffed animals and frowns. Leans close to see how they’re all shoved into the bag, piled on top of one another, and misshapen. Broken bear necks all around, Aki clears his throat and tilts his head.

“We’re still on for the movie this weekend?” he asks, leaning back, closing the register, and he’s trying to find his keys. Keep his hands busy. “If not, that’s okay too.”

“Yeah, Himeno says she’s still free.”

“Cool,” Aki says, and that’s lame. He needs to leave; he needs to make it to the store before they close, but Angel just looks so content. It’s a shame, but also, “You like flowers?”

“Oh, yes,” Angel says, and that is a blush as he turns back. He’s playing with his fingers. “Yes. Yeah, I used to have a little garden when I was little. I wasn’t very good at it, but when I first planted the flowers, they were always so pretty until they died.”

*

“I swear I didn’t know.”

“Mhm.”

“I didn’t.”

Angel looks at him, and it’s a cocked brow. It sounds like a flimsy excuse to Aki, even, but it is true. Himeno was meant to be there with them. At seven sharp, and it’s five ‘til the hour, and Aki hadn’t really even cared if he saw this movie or not; he just wanted to go again. With Angel, and now they’re there. Just them. Standing outside, the wind battering against their coats. Hands shoved in their pockets as they wait, still.

He supposes he got what he wanted and then some; now, it’s just about finding the right angle. But,

“Well,” Angel says, and it’s a hand taken out of his pocket. Shielding his eyes, glancing around. It’s dark, and the following Sunday, the parking lot is surprisingly empty. He turns then, pulling some hair from his mouth as he asks, “Do you like icees?”

*

“Oh,” Angel says when they step foot out of the theater, and it’s raining again. Pouring down, the sky is heavy with it, loud. Angel squints and glances up at Aki. Frowns. “It didn’t say it was supposed to rain.”

And it’s what one does when it’s raining. Never mind everything else, Aki shrugs his coat off and offers it. Holds it out to Angel and says, “Here.”

“Oh, no,” Angel says with a soft smile. “I have my sweater, it’s okay.”

“Take the damn coat,” Aki says, shaking his head. Stepping closer, wrapping the coat around Angel’s shoulders. Pursing his lips and then bringing it up, over his head. He looks ridiculous; Aki doesn’t want him to get sick; it’s a bit cold out. “There, now you won’t get sick.”

“Well, what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Angel narrows his eyes at Aki, tongues at his bottom lip. Stares up at him for a bit too long; how he can just do that, Aki has no idea, but something must crumble because eventually, on the back end of a crack of thunder, he says, “Fine, but if you get sick, it’s not my fault,” and then tacks on, “No more coffees for you, then.”

“You don’t make my coffee for me anyway.”

“Well, I also can conspire with Himeno, so she won't either,” Angel shoots back and smirks. Pink cheeks, red-tipped nose. Whispers, a bit too much but just enough, “I can play tricks, too.”

Aki can’t help but grin.

*

“Do you want to see my room?” he asks, handing Aki the cup of coffee where they stand in Angel’s kitchen. It’s silent; Power left with a clap to Aki’s back and a quick but earnest and oddly sweet, it’s good to see you. He likes her and finds the pair of them as roommates possibly disastrous, but somehow, it seems to work.

Angel’s face falls, though. A bit of a curl to his lip as he stands, shifting from one foot to another. Aki hasn’t responded, and he ends up laughing. A chuckle, it’s just so—

“Sure, yeah.”

“No, what?” Angel draws back. “You laughed.”

“No, no,” Aki says, taking a sip of coffee. It’s horrible. He coughs and nods. “Yes, sure, I want to see your room.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t even want to show you now,” he says, crossing his arm. Looking up at Aki and the swelling in his chest, he’s getting hot. It’s too damn much. “I’m trying to be nice, and now you’re laughing—”

“It’s endearing,” Aki blurts, sputters. Spits out between a sip of coffee. It’s bad. Thick and bitter, but he’s going to drink it all, just like last time. He swallows and amends, “It’s endearing—you are. That’s why I laughed.”

And Angel, well, he purses his lips. Runs through all of those classic Angel things he tends to do. One right after another. Purses his lips and rolls his eyes. Stops halfway, sighs, and glances away. Shifts a hip, before,

“Fine. Follow me.”

Down the hall, the room to the left. Angel steps in, makes room for Aki, and then just stands there. Seems to have gained back a bit of footing as he says, “See? Boring.”

“You and your fucking books,” Aki mutters, can’t help it.

The room is pretty bare. Maybe not empty but plain. Solid colors, nothing really sticks out unless you take in the entire space.

A bed in the corner, sheets and pillows a mess and wrinkled. An old-looking stuffed animal, a blanket that looks handmade. A nightstand with a few books about to topple next to a lamp that’s missing its shade. A desk, a computer. There’s a dresser and little things on top, collected over the years, surely. A framed photo of Power which makes Aki chuckle. A tiny, deformed clay thing that, upon leaning down and further inspection, looks a lot like their cat.

Another lamp on the desk, nothing just outlandish and showstopping.

Beyond the books, there’s a lot of books.

In a pile next to the desk, some on the desk. The stack on the nightstand and then there’s just—piles in the corner. Some of them look like old textbooks, maybe some fiction. Non-fiction, too, with how many there are, but the ones that look like they’re closest to where one would grab, they’re those Angel books.

Angel narrows his eyes when Aki glances away from the tiny Meowy figure. Says, “What about them?”

Aki pushes his luck. “It’s cute. I’ve never met anyone who actually reads those books.”

And wins. That’s a blush. Perfectly complimenting Angel’s hair. Doubles his earnings, his win, because then it’s a laugh. Hand over a smile, trying to hide it, but Angel isn’t quick enough and is clearly unaware of the destruction the sight causes.

A casualty at ten at night on a Sunday.

Soft, it’s a gentle thing but holds no less actual humor. Seen in his eyes as Angel waives a hand dismissively. Says nothing in turn, though, before going to plop on his bed. Sitting on the edge while Aki makes another round of the room.

It’s too much to take in like being let loose in a field of flowers. Too many colors, and there’s clearly the nicest flower you can look at. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Angel’s bed looks soft. It looks warm, looks like him, and there are these emotions in Aki’s chest he’s still trying to dry swallow down. Imagining Angel asleep in that bed, curled up when it’s cold. Possibly angrily tossing the sheets off when he’s too hot.

Sick, Aki wonders if Angel gets sick and who might take care of him then. Thinks the other flowers, the small things of Angel’s, are important, too, but the one on the bed meets his eyes and offers a smile. The turning up of one side of his mouth, a pink cheek, and Aki laughs softly.

*

Aki steps outside, turning to face the open door. Angel is hanging off of it, slightly ajar, and the open breezeway is cold; the rain hasn’t let up. He’s looking expectant, but Aki isn’t sure.

Where to go from here, what to say next. Everything is quite vague. Upfront honesty would be best, something along the lines of I want to take you on a real date, and something as silly sounding as I really like you. Maybe a can I kiss you, would you let me?

The next time you are sick, let me know.

All those normal things one is expected to do when they like someone. It’s just one of those things in life, oddly comforting while seemingly so unbearable and uncomfortable. You just have to find a person worth grinning and bearing it for, and, well.

Angel tilts his head to the side, and usually, Aki’s a bit brave. Or is good enough at mustering up courage in a flash when he needs to, but something about—

Angel says, “Thank you for the ride home and for going to the movies with me.”

“Of course,” Aki says, and he means it. Of course. “Anytime.”

Angel nods and glances around him at the wet roads and rain pouring down. The water running from the gutters, landing with sets, sopping smacks against the pavement. Gnaws at the bottom of his lip before meeting Aki’s gaze and squinting an eye.

It would be easy to kiss him. Aki can imagine it, where Angel’s hands would go if they left the doorframe and maybe then Aki would get to lay in Angel’s bed. See what it smells like, how warm it can get. Feel the shape of Angel and how much of that bed he really takes up, how much room is left for him.

But Angel is frowning softly; the wind picks up, and he pulls a few strands of hair away from his face and mouth before he says, “Get home safe, okay?”

Angel’s starting to get suspicious.

It’s happened four times now: Aki coming in to order a coffee when Himeno is somehow conveniently otherwise preoccupied or nowhere to be seen. Not in the bathroom, Angel checks before deciding he must be the one to work the first time Aki shows up after their second movie date.

Not in the bathroom, the deep freezer empty.

Which means he has to do his job and has to be watched while he does it. Stealing glances at the little coffee recipes because he still somehow hasn’t memorized how to make things. There’s just no space in his brain for that when the list and recipes and ingredients are right there.

And Angel did have a long, stern talk with Himeno after she stood them up at the movies the other day:

‘You can’t just say you’re going to the movie and then not show up.’

‘I had something come up.’

‘No, you didn’t, I know what you’re doing.’

‘Good, then we’re on the same page. He likes you. You like him.’

‘You still can’t just stand us up at the movies.’

Fat lot that did, there’s been no more movie dates, but Himeno is still getting her way. And, really, Angel can’t be too bothered to keep up the crusade for justice, not when it is working out in his favor. Really, he’s having to do less work.

Aki comes in to see him; Angel begrudgingly makes his coffee. He asks about the book Angel is reading; there’s a little smile there now, though. Like a secret between them, time only they know about. Aki walking around Angel’s room, poking at things. Usually, Angel is a bit weird about his space, his belongings, but Aki had been careful, touched but didn’t move, and was respectful until finally he broke and asked,

‘I have to ask—’

‘Go on.’

‘Are they really, like,’ Aki picks up a book, carefully turning it over. Glancing up. ‘They fuck?’

Angel chokes a giggle. A small laugh and nods, ‘Yeah, that’s the whole bit.’

‘Where does one even buy these books?’

‘The bookstore.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, we can go sometime. I’ll show you.’

That little conversation was followed by Aki smirking, picking up numerous different books, and then,

‘Cowgirl.’

‘No way,’ Aki says.

‘It’s a western, of course,’ Angel says. And then adds, ‘The protagonist is very handsome in that one—supposedly.’

And then,

‘This one?’ Aki asks, holding up a newer book.

Angel sighs. ‘Boring, nothing good.’

‘No?’

‘Nah.’

On and on until the coffee Angel had made him went cold, and he was seeing Aki out again. Pouring rain, there had been a hint of a smile there. Lingering, Angel had been tired but found he was kind of put off by the prospect of closing the door. For the first time, he had really wanted a kiss.

To kiss Aki. To drag him back to bed, and the thoughts that followed after that were wild like whiplash. Had made Angel a bit uncomfortable, really. Thinking of someone as sweet and kind as Aki in such a way, unbeknownst to him.

The night had ended with him coming on his fingers, wide eyes fixed on his ceiling fan, and raised brows in the silence after and a shaky but decisive ‘Okay, well—time for bed.’

He left his book at home today; Aki hasn’t come in yet. Angel feels bad; maybe he needs to ask Aki more about his life. Like if the flower shop ever gets really busy, how does one even order flowers? What are all the bears for? Angel wants to know but also has found he gets swept up. In someone caring about things he doesn’t care much about himself, like his books. His room, his preferred icee flavor, and making sure he doesn’t get a cold.

But Angel also wants to know more about the flowers. How to keep them alive, he wants to see the angel cheeks again.

Lunch rolls around, and he takes his break outside, this time in his car.

The roads are still a bit wet; Angel would much rather not have to get settled behind the store and then have to move to his car when he quits pretending like it’s still nice enough out. That the wind isn’t biting against his face, making the tip of his nose pink.

The heat is turned on, a few words are read and then set down. Book in his lap, looking out across the street. There aren’t any plants outside the flower shop today; maybe it’s too cold. But surely some plants and flowers do well in cold weather; perhaps they haven't gotten them in yet.

Resting his chin on his hand, sipping at his coffee every once in a while as the radio host spouts off about suspected traffic and construction for those who head home at five. Angel doesn’t catch Aki walking up until he’s there.

With a large torso and a white shirt today, he can’t see his face in the frame of the window, but soon enough, Aki peeks down. Raps his knuckles against the glass.

Angel jumps only slightly before rolling down his window and pulling some hair from his mouth. Sputtering it out as the wind fights back, Angel blinks, and his lips part. Staring up at him,

Aki offers him a smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Straight to the point, Angel’s eyes widen a bit as Aki asks, “Do you want to go to the movies again?”

There’s a hurry to his voice; the words are a bit nervous.

And Angel likes this; this he can do. Teetering the edge between both of them not really knowing how to go about this, it’s comforting. Makes Angel feel like there’s room for testy words, checking the waters with jokes, and just a whole lot of figuring it out.

Angel hums and glances at the clock to buy some time. Grimaces and weighs the pros and cons before, “There’s nothing else out that I want to see.”

Honesty. There’s not, and while Angel enjoys the occasional movie, there’s also nothing worse than being stuck in a theater watching a bad movie, one he didn’t want to see in the first place. No matter the company, so, maybe—

“Well,” Aki says then, crouching down in front of the driver’s side window. Face to face now, Angel can see him fully. “You like ice cream, right?”

“I do,” Angel whispers. “I do. I love ice cream.”

“Then can I take you to get ice cream?”

Pause—

And people, generally, don’t like the straightforward. Angel knows this and thinks maybe that’s why he’s never gotten far. There’s a blandness that can come with knowing what you want, regardless of life demanding you understand such things. The back and forth is more fun, but it’s tiring. Things haven’t ever stuck when words are more tossed out than gently set; blunt is best, but frank doesn’t get other’s heartbeats racing and their cheeks pink. But it’s the way he’s chosen to be, conscious or not, so,

“Is this a date?”

Aki does not hesitate. “Yes.”

Doesn’t give Angel an out; he likes that. He feels a bit giddy, and thinks, maybe, he might owe Himeno an apology.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. Nods for good measure. “Sure.”

“Yeah?” Aki asks with a smile.

*

Angel watches from the mirror as Power knocks over a book on his bedside table, holding Meowy up in the air and brushing the cat’s feet against her face. Cooing and mumbling cat talk nonsense, Angel gnaws on his bottom lip and brushes through his hair again.

And then again, and again. A useless hair tie is tossed on the dresser; it’s too cold to put it up, but Angel slept on it wet the night before, and it’s a bit of a mess.

A date—ice cream.

“You look fine,” Power drawls eventually, leaning over to meet Angel’s eye in the mirror. Holding Meowy close to her chest, she looks down. “Right, Meowy?”

The cat gets a squeeze and lets out a soft mew.

*

Angel looks down at his shoes, waiting for the sound of the driver’s side door slamming. He got them as a present from Power last Christmas, and they’re too coffee-stained and worn out to be worn anymore. But you walk on dates, he supposes, so he had decided comfortable was best.

Staring up at the streetlamp they’re parked under, leaves are swirling down the street. Kicking up into a little pile, twirling like a mini autumn tornado before they fall apart like nothing. Drift away in the wind, the sight is almost sad.

“Ready?” Aki asks, and Angel looks up. Gives him a soft nod before it’s the sound of the car locking and a soft huff when he jumps the curb. He’s too much body, tall, standing on even ground with Angel.

He looks nice, he wore a dress shirt.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Angel follows the movement before tonguing at the inside of his cheek. Reaching back and pulling his other backpack strap onto his shoulder, he shakes his fingers free from under his sleeve before he holds them out.

Wiggles them just a little bit, an expectant brow raised. An if you’re gonna do this, then, c’mon. Do it right.

“You’re supposed to hold hands on a date.”

“Are you?”

“If you don’t want to hold hands with me, then why did you ask me out?”

And Aki smiles, his head tilting in concession before he draws a hand out of his own pockets, and their fingers intertwine.

“I’ll hold hands with you.”

“Good,” Angel gives him a sharp nod. “I like holding hands.”

And he’s never really held hands with someone; there’s no real validity to that statement, but their fingers fit nicely, slot together, and find a resting place that feels natural. Aki’s hands are soft, and Angel wonders if his are too. If they’re too cold, sometimes he runs cold, and his fingertips feel strange. Numb and sharp, he thinks it’s an issue, but it always goes away eventually.

But it’s warm, a warmth, and Aki starts on their way towards the small ice cream shop across the way. Tugging him along, his strides are much too big, and he slows down eventually, listening to Angel’s soles scrape against the concrete as he tries to keep up.

Through a damp parking lot, a scattering of rain earlier that evening making the concrete shine, puddles of light that look like stars. The sound of wet footsteps, one and then two.

Angel turns to him, sitting there on the bench outside, and swallows. Licks a bit of ice cream off his bottom lip. Vanilla, of course. Nothing else on top. Aki should have known; at least the look he got when he gestured to the toppings should have been clue enough.

“You’re gonna put all that on top?” Angel asks, looking between Aki and the Oreo crumbles.

Aki hums and glances down at him. “Should I not?”

And their shoes keep knocking; it’s something endearingly neat to have happen on a date.

Aki had been unsure, nervous as one is when asking someone on a date, about asking Angel on a date. Had pushed the words past his lips because he knew it would be a yes, but that didn't stop a million scenarios running through his head. He had let out a deep breath, a gentle, sweet curse to Angel after for making his heart skip a beat when he had turned down the movie, but. Well, now they’re here, and—

“Hey,” Angel mumbles, tongue poking out, and he’s making a mess eating the ice cream. Not indecent, he just—Aki smiles as he speaks again and asks, “You got a napkin?”

Aki nods, lifts, and digs in his back pocket before offering a crumpled brown napkin to Angel. Watching as he takes it, Aki takes an idle lick of his cone as Angel looks down. Brushes away a little ice cream spot on his sweatshirt and tries to clean up the cone. He’s frowning, and Aki thinks he’d feed Angel as much ice cream as he’d like if it meant he could keep doing this.

Whatever this is.

“How long have you worked at—”

Angel groans and swallows. Licks his lips, then at his wrist, sparing Aki an almost embarrassed glance. Pleads, “I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Okay,” Aki says, offering a soft grin. Sitting back, entertained by the mere sight in front of him enough. “We won’t talk about work.”

“Do you have family?”

“Ah, no,” he says with a tilt of his head. A no, I don’t, and that’s always a strange subject.

“Me either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Angel says, sparing him a glance, and it’s a small smile again. They’re tossing them out like landmines they’ll step on eventually. A look that says, yeah, this is always a strange subject. “But that’s okay, ya know? What am I to do.”

Aki hums, and then it’s his turn. He goes to speak but stops, reaching out just in time to catch an ice cream drip from the back of the cone. Angel’s hands are full of cone and napkin, and Aki wants him to know the damn thing isn’t going anywhere, but before he can speak—

“When I was little,” a hum, another lick. Angel continues with a swallow, “I tried to make ice cream one time.”

“Did you?”

Angel grins then, and Aki takes a deep breath. He’s blushing like a schoolgirl, and it’s okay.

“It was terrible,” Angel says with a grin and a nod like he’s instead telling Aki that it was the best damn thing he’s ever eaten.

“When I was little,” Aki offers up, “I walked downstairs when my father was putting presents under the tree and ruined Santa for myself.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Angel says, brows drawing together. “How old were you?”

“Five.”

“Bummer,” and then, “I was a weird kid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Angel says with a nod. “I remember thinking, god. This one time, I said I was going to marry my dad.” he adds again, “I didn’t have a lot of friends, I don't think.”

Aki snorts.

“Yeah,” Angel nods again. Egged on. “I think it was ‘cause, like, well. Hmm, maybe it was the first time I understood love, I don’t know. So, you, like, marry who you love. I don’t know; it still makes me feel weird.”

“I was weird, too,” Aki offers.

“Yeah, I bet,” Angel mumbles around another lick. A bite. Side eyes him. “Mmhm.”

“I mean nothing that weird.”

Angel lets out a soft, “Hey.”

“One time, my cat—“

“—died on Christmas, I remember.”

Aki pauses. Then, “You were really good at jumping rope.”

“Double Dutch,” Angel corrects with a nod, letting his cone rest between his thighs. Wiping at his finger with the overused napkin. Then those fingers are wiped on the sides of his jeans before Aki offers him another glance.

“Double Dutch, yeah.” Silence and then, “Are you still?”

Angel hums. “Maybe. I dunno.”

And that was that, a little bit of something. A foundation, Santa and ice cream, and Angel sitting there, his hair now dangerously close to getting entangled in the sticky ice cream mess he’s creating. Aki goes to mention it but can’t help but draw back with hidden humor when Angel catches it first.

Frowns and picks a bit of hair that’s blown in his face away. Spares Aki an embarrassed side-eye again. They’re tossing looks around like they’re the only two sitting outside on that bench, and they are. Not a single other person has walked by; it’s just them.

In silence, they sit there and eat their ice cream, staring out at the empty parking lot before them. They got there a bit late; Aki had to close up shop. They were those people, going in right before closing, and Aki’s never been a fan of vanilla, but he finds he quite likes it.

Can appreciate it a bit more when another’s warm thigh is pressed against his, elbows brushing with each tilt of the head and lick.

Eventually, Angel asks, “Are you going to take me home to your place?”

With another lick, he glances at Aki for an answer under his lashes before taking a bite of the cone. Another taste, a lick of red lips.

*

The drive to Aki’s apartment is quick. There’s no one on the roads. He’s trying to be level-headed, but there’s a few extra miles over the speed limit, and he manages to snag a couple of wishes under yellow lights.

And Angel is silent, seemingly appeased with Aki’s slightly stuttered but earnest, ‘Y-Yeah, if you want.’

He’s out of his element, just a tad. Just a bit, and Aki’s coasting corners, trying to keep his cool, all while feeling like things are going really well. This is really good, this is too good. It’s actually fucking fantastic. Its thoughts allowed to form finally, thawing out like slow melting ice cream and snow.

I like this person a lot, my heart hurts sometimes from it. Never thought that would happen to me, but here we are.

I like making him laugh, I want him to be happy, but I want to be the reason he is happy. I like that he’s like that, however he is, i think that’s why i fell and busted my knees wide fucking open for him.

And Angel might send him to an early grave. Aki will go straight down, find his way to where the devils reside. He’s not just a pretty face; Angel’s too smart for his own good, like a shark to blood, and the car is filling with water. The blood from Aki’s knees.

He parks, the car jerks, and he feels sixteen again.

Looks over, and it’s those peonies. Those angel cheeks sitting in Angel’s lap Aki had brought him.

‘For me?’

‘Of course.’

Angel is lazy about getting out of the car, a soft hum here and there as he follows Aki through the maze that is the hallways of his apartment building. Flowers in one hand, the elevator, Angel looks indifferent, looks nonplus like he’s in an elevator at work, it’s barely hit eleven, and he’s got to stay late tonight.

It’s putting Aki on edge; it’s got him really hoping he straightened up a bit the night before. He can’t remember.

If there’s food and when the last time he changed his sheets was. He’s been sleeping on the couch recently, there might be dishes in the sink. Clothes on the bathroom floor, he swept the other day, but leaves get tracked in and he’s wondering about leaves suddenly.

He’s in over his head and has the sneaking suspicion that Angel is about to eat him whole in one bite.

Aki gets the key in the doorknob, and Angel asks, “You rent?”

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. A twist of the handle. “Yeah, it’s not too bad.”

Angel sounds surprised. “It’s nice.”

And Aki is trying to find the switch when he hears the thud of Angel’s backpack on tile. The soft snck of the door shutting. The sound of shoes being taken off, Aki has walked into his own hallway a million times over, and his hand brushes the switch, but then it’s cold-tipped fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Where are you?” Angel asks, words soft and mumbled. Leaning down, letting those flowers drop to the floor gently. “Hmm?”

“I—” Aki starts, but Angel finds him. Those fingers make their way up his arm, step by step. Under his jacket, clinging to the front of his shirt. Dragging him forward, Aki pushes off the wall; it’s too perfect, the way they manage to get it right the first time in the dark.

And Angel’s lips, they taste like ice cream.

Still sticky sweet, just a bit. Cavity-inducing, the spit collects in Aki’s mouth, and he tastes it as soon as their lips meet. A hesitant kiss, just in case they missed in the dark entryway of his place, but it lands, and Angel hums. Softly, it’s a content sound. He does that a lot, cues in low tones. It’s maybe a bit surprised like he’s pleasantly pleased.

And then Aki’s being moved, shoved gently, guided by the press of Angel's lips, forcing them both back, back into his living room. A quick hand comes up, gripping Angel’s waist at the last minute because there’s a step-down. Aki himself stumbles, but he lifts Angel down, and he takes a moment to catch his breath before they’re back together, Aki setting him back on earth.

And for someone who seems to possess such little words most of the time, it’s a tad messy.

Fumbling, not like trying to talk too fast, but like Angel can’t quite find the words, so he’s trying them all. A kiss to Aki’s lip, a detour to his jaw. It’s dark, he misses, and it’s the corner of Aki’s mouth that gets lips then. Angel’s mouth parts as he catches his breath. It’s messy in a good way; it’s not cautious or hesitant.

Aki gladly parts his lips as well, deepens the kiss, and the back of his teeth must taste like vanilla, too, because Angel’s fucking cleaning them.

Hands moving from his shirt to Aki’s shoulders, fingers digging into his jacket, grabbing him, pulling him close. Tiptoes knocking against Aki’s shoes, he lets go of Angel for only a moment, shoving them off and kicking them towards the door. Helping Angel, who refuses to break the kiss even when he’s nearly falling over because his laces are tied too tight.

Licking into Aki’s mouth, their teeth knock.

Until Aki’s jacket is now in the way, and Angel takes a moment to shove it off. It falls to the floor, is kicked away as well, and he drinks down the moan Angel offers up when Aki steps them further into the room.

And there’s a couch somewhere. Aki doesn’t want to be presumptuous; it’s a first date, but—

“Bed or couch?” Angel asks. Mumbles, words broken up as he asks again around kisses. Both hands on Aki’s face. Whispered against lips, “Bed—Bed or couch, which?”

A little late, on the tail end of a kiss with a tad too rough teeth, giving back what he’s receiving, Aki angles his head away to breathe and asks, “What?”

Blinks. Aki hadn’t heard, entirely too focused on the spit, the way it rolls in his mouth with Angel’s tongue. How soft, he’s just so soft. It’s a conundrum, how one can be so sweet and back it with such force that has Aki’s knees buckling in submission.

“Is this okay?” Angel asks instead, and yes. Yes.

“Yeah, come here,” he pants, and now he’s panting. Heartbeat quickening, skipping every third and fourth. Four counts, then a breath, over and over like angel numbers. Angel fingers and lips, and that’s what vanilla ice cream tastes like from the lips of an angel, and he’s pliable.

Angel is, but Aki’s too keen to let him do whatever he wants. See where this all goes.

So very careful, fingers gentle, even when they dig back into Aki’s shoulders, the back of his knees hit the couch, and he’s falling. Pulling Angel down with him, the lights are still off. The curtains are drawn, it’s too dark to see the details, so it’s all shapes. A flash of hair here and the glint of something in an eye there.

The sound of them coming together paints more of a picture than anything Aki can really see.

“Can I be on top?’ Angel asks against Aki’s lips. “If you want, if that’s okay.”

His lips fall to Aki’s jaw. Down, a kiss to the skin and then a lick. Aki doesn’t know how he’s meant to respond, not when he’s not allowed a minute for his mind to catch up. To register what this and that feels like, the way Angel is settled over him in his lap. A slight drag of teeth, Angel's hands are in his lap, patient and waiting and sweet, and Aki wants. He wants—

“Please, yes,” he says, his voice strained. “Y-Yeah, whatever you want.”

He wants to say—so much. Can’t hardly find a single word in himself, though, at the moment. Thinks it’s still okay, but it’s the first thing on his list of things to do after whatever is about to happen happens. He’s going to ask what days Angel has off. Compare them to his own, see where you can get a copy of a key made and he wants to go to the bookstore and see that Angel book section.

Wants to kiss to the ends of the earth, too.

It’s quick; there’s nothing hesitant or too eager about it. It makes Aki think this is where the night had been going anyway, and Angel had a card up his sleeve and he can’t help but be delighted with that thought. To be wanted enough to require foresight, thoughts beforehand. It’s a wonderful feeling; Aki’s head is spinning because there’s those cold fingers again. Warming up, though.

Angel’s shirt is pulled off; his hair falls around his shoulders in a downright obscene way. It's too pretty, it’s too soft, and—

“Your hair—this is, shit,” Aki curses when Angel shifts in his lap. Right over his jeans, the zipper of his pants cutting into his cock. Angel pauses, then does it again. Aki manages to wheeze, “Your natural hair color?”

Angel is gracious enough to spare Aki a glance as he tosses his shirt away from them on the couch. “Yeah.”

His throat is tight, Aki is caught on a breath when Angel falls into his lap further. A hint of a smirk there; it’s celestial and it’s too on the nose, Aki is speechless. His fingers flexing, they don’t know where to go when Angel rolls his hips and shifts Aki’s cock under them.

Another wheeze, short and slipped and embarrassing, “I thought so.”

“Then why ask?”

“Just wanted to know,” Aki whispers. “Do you want—oh, okay—”

His words are cut off; he’s only a bystander to what is about to happen. What’s happening, watching Angel over him as he pulls the strings. A willing puppet, fingers are under his Aki’s shirt, and that’s off, too, meeting Angel’s down the way. A pointer trailing down the middle of his chest, a content hum, gentle lips against Aki’s shoulder before there’s quick fingers on his belt. A smile against skin, Aki’s breath catches.

A smile that feels like the shape of a secret, not for him to know.

It’s the rustling of denim against jeans, bare legs slipping against bare legs that leaves Aki breathless. Eager and wanting more, but he has patience; he’s using it. Letting Angel settle them until Aki is naked on his living room couch for the first time, with a body in his lap, and it's so warm.

Arms around his neck, there’s a moment of pause for them both.

Warm like he’s never known, just to touch. To feel the fabric of another’s skin against your own, all points of contact, heating up and leading the way to sweat. Another kiss when Angel finds his lips in the near dark, a sigh. Soft noises that take the shape of a soft hip under Aki’s fingers. The dip of a back and a waist, the curve and split of a thigh, and when he gets to taste Angel, that ice cream is gone, but a sweetness remains under his tongue.

In the form of the first hitch of Angels breath when Aki manages to pry them apart enough to get his hands between them. Feeling Angel crowd over him, leaning into him with a kiss to the side of Aki’s forehead. Warm, wet lips parting when his fingers brush Angel’s cunt.

The groan he lets out breaks them out of it a bit; it’s too quiet.

But Aki can’t help it; he can’t stop it from happening again when he slips a finger into Angel. Feels the hips above him, the way they take him deeper when Angel’s thighs part further. Sinking onto his finger, it’s a soft and quiet moan, near stifled.

“Don’t be quiet,” Aki says; there’s a pleading tone to his voice, and he tacks on, “Please. Please.”

Eager eyes trained on the way Angel’s hair falls away from his shoulders to reveal a slender neck, pale in the light and that’s a nod. Stuttered, his lips are red. Cherry red and kiss-swollen. Aki nods, meets Angel’s eye before he draws back and hisses when he sinks a second finger into his cunt.

“Fuck—you’re wet.”

“I like you,” Angel whispers, a confessed secret. One that Aki gets to know this time around.

And he can’t see anything anymore because Angel wraps his arms around Aki’s neck. Burying his head until he moans. Angel’s breath hitches, and then it’s let out into his mouth; Aki swallows it down. Can’t see Angel now because they’re kissing, wet lips against his again, and the soft feel of Angel. Slick, he arches his back to fuck himself onto Aki’s fingers, rolling his hips just to find a rhythm.

Tight around him, shaky breaths as he still tries to kiss.

It’s really something; Aki’s trying to commit it all to memory, but there’s too much. He’s overwhelmed, feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. Roll off the couch and fall with a wet splat to the floor.

Small pants against his jaw. Against Aki’s lips before they’re caught in his throat, and Aki can’t help but be selfish. Not offering up a breath, not allowing Angel to catch his either because his fingers are aching to flex. They do, digging into Angel’s waist. Feeling the way muscle and tendons move over him, turned into something slipping through his fingers.

Slipping between his fingers, the angle isn’t ideal for Aki, but Angel moves over him.

Circling his hips, he takes what Aki is offering so easily. Grinding down, jaw going slack. Taking what he wants, his hands on Aki’s chest until his wrist is aching. Fingers drenched. Angel’s thighs are tightening where he’s sat, and the moans—

“Another,” Angel finally gasps before he clears his throat. Manages to sound a bit more composed when he pleads, whispered in the dark, “P-Please.”

Aki finds his voice. “Another what?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

“Another finger,” Angel asks, mouth falling open when Aki pushes his fingers further, carving out a space for himself. Gets a hand on Angel’s waist enough to draw him up. Feels the way slick slips between his fingers as he draws them out. Angel near sobs at the loss, “Just one more—please, I—”

Drawing back, and it’s three. Wet falling down his knuckles, the sound is like a whooshing in his ears, mixing with those soft keens. Getting closer, a bow strung really, really taut and about to snap. Snap and break in half, Angel’s forehead falls to rest against Aki’s shoulder, and it’s a thumb against his clit.

Brushing every time Angel fucks himself down, Aki’s not doing anything. He’s just there, and Angel is using him, and he’s painfully hard in his jeans. Could come in his pants, like a teenager, if something does not give. Because Angel’s breathy pants, the soft ah ah ah that’s punched out of him every time he takes Aki’s fingers to the third knuckle, is too close to his ear.

Just for him.

And then the breath is knocked out of him, and Aki’s back hits the couch.

He can’t see, but Angel is over him. A body rustling, a pillow falls off the couch. Staring down at him, vague shapes and quick fingers on his belt again, getting it all the way off. Lifting, there’s a soft laugh. A giggle from Angel when Aki manages to can't his hips enough to get his jeans down. Angel hangs on to his arm when he leans back and bats them off his legs. Falling to the floor, a soft thud.

Another laugh from both of them this time.

“Is—fuck,” Aki curses, a tight grip on his cock because Angel is fumbling around. Moving against him and he’s confused until hair brushes against his face, and thats the lamp turning on. Behind them, Angel leans over, and it’s the soft click before the room is flooded with light. Aki swallows. “Is this okay?”

“You’re very sweet,” Angel says, looking down at him. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yes, sorry, I wanted to see you.”

“No, no, It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And they’re staring at one another.

Angel has a heart-shaped face; Aki thinks that’s what it would be called. Valentine’s eyes, but they’re deadly, boring holes into Aki’s head. Moving down, looking between them, those fingers are warm now when they brush against the tip of his cock. It’s gentle but no less damning; Aki can feel the blush when his cock twitches and his hips just can’t sit still.

He’s pitifully hard, weeping with it, and he chokes on his breath when Angel swipes a finger over the tip and pops it in his mouth. Tongues at his teeth, swallowing it down. Batting Aki’s own hand away, Angel’s tight grip on the base of his cock is the only thing that keeps him from coming.

Torture.

Aki looks up under his lashes, and it’s another soft laugh.

“Well?” Angel says, but that’s a blush Aki spots right before Angel takes his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s staring at Aki’s cock, a gentle finger trailing down the length of it.

And maybe that’s doubt, but that just won't do. Not when Angel’s looking like that settled on top of Aki, that blush trailing down his neck. His chest, it’s a bit cold in the apartment; they’re already sweating. Angel’s nose looks pink from the cold outside, not quite fully warmed up.

Another kiss, Aki’s hands smoothing down the lean panes of Angel’s back. Mapping over shoulderblade mountains and small spine caverns. Over the swell of those thighs again before Angel draws back and meets his eye.

It doesn’t really feel like hooking up.

Feels a whole lot like an out-of-body experience when it’s two of Angel’s fingers press against Aki’s lips, and he parts them. Of course he does. Lets his lips part and sucks. Feels Angel’s fingers press against his tongue, scrape against his teeth when those fingers pull back, and he can’t help the groan that leaves his lips, turning into a sharp breath when those fingers disappear between them.

Angel sinks down onto his cock a moment later, and Aki’s mind does a funny thing.

It goes: oh my god, oh fuck, and then his eyes close at the tight, wet heat. And then Aki has to open his eyes, cannot miss what is before him, which is Angel, lips parted. That flush growing, long lashes painted against cheeks, and there’s the sound.

High-pitched, and it’s the sound of the devil, come to collect.

Angel’s eyes are closed, but it’s okay. He’s careful about it, the way he takes Angel’s cock, all the way until the very end, when he settles. Quick and fast, those last few inches, and that’s a ragged noise leaving Angel’s lips the moment he steals Aki’s breath away. Leaning back, bracing his hands on Aki’s knees.

Spread out before him, it feels like a vice grip, those eyes, the feel of Angel’s wet cunt around him. Tight, and Aki, ever so eloquent, says,

“Fuck—tight.”

Feels it like wading too far out into the ocean, when you’re barely skimming the sand under you, and you’re almost lost. In and out, Angel clenches around him, and Aki’s hand shoots out to steady his waist because he sees the moment Angel’s about to move.

Sees the almost determination in his eyes; it’s all very endearing. He’d love to take more time to notice it next time when his brain isn’t about to bleed out of his ears. Aki hadn’t even realized his heart had beat out of his chest; it’s lying on the floor before them.

Angel whispers, though, “C—Can you, ah—”

“What?” Aki whispers. Hands roaming over unexplored skin. Angel’s wrist, the swell of his ass. “What? Tell me.”

“Please.”

“Tell me,” Aki begs again, breath coming faster when he feels Angel relax into it.

“Harder—hard, please,” Angel begs before his voice breaks on a, “Yes.”

Aki gets his knees under him, and it’s a hard snap of his hips. Just one, but Angel falls forward. Hot palms against Aki’s chest. He cries out; Aki sees stars at the way his cunt clenches around him. Too fucking wet, his jaw works at the thoughts flooding his mind. It’s a silent moan, words stripped away to just feeling.

“Like this?” Aki gasps, a short and sharp intake of breath. He moves his hips again, withdrawing slowly to understand the way he slips back inside. Once, then twice, slowly enveloped, easing Angel into it further.

Getting Angel settled before he’s fucking into him. A sharp snap of him, a hand on Angel’s lower stomach, holding him in place.

Hard and fast, as requested. Of course, and the sound is obscene. Bordering indecent, like the TV should be on in the background or the air needs to kick on because it’s Angel’s moans, growing louder. Aki has neighbors; they can rot.

Holding Angel down because he’s moving. Writhing with the force of it, hair falling away from his shoulder, cunt getting tighter. Opening right up for him, taking Aki as deep as he can with every thrust. Canting his own hips, his lips against Aki’s, feeling like they’re trying to form the words too deep.

“Y—Ye—” And he’s trying but failing so very miserably at speaking. Aki can’t help but manage a shaky smile himself. Angel whimpers, “Ah, yes—fuck.”

Can’t help but grin at the fuck; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Angel actually swear, always a bit above it, he assumed.

But he’s loud, and Aki’s eyes are fighting not to roll back.

“Oh, fuck—please.”

“Please, please, just—ngh.”

Aki shifts up, finds Angel’s lips again when his cock digs that much deeper, and then he’s got Angel in his arms. His arms around Aki’s neck, holding on for dear life, and those cries are closer now. Melting into his skin, the side of his neck, as he buries his cock deeper with every thrust, he can feel Angel’s cunt clenching. It doesn’t want to let him fucking go.

“Too much,” Angel cries, it’s a whimper. It almost makes Aki’s teeth grind into dust. “T—Too much, oh god.”

“You want me to slow down?” Aki pants, grits his teeth, and pulls at Angel’s hips again. He doesn’t want to, but, “Yeah?”

“No, nono,” Angel hurries, shaking his head. His hair smells like cherries; it’s Valentine’s again. “No, please, I want more. Harder.”

And Aki’s getting teeth now, moans sinking into his skin only to be bitten back by those canines. He’s getting his name, broken syllables mixing, and lulling into a cadence just shy of his name. The hint of himself, Angel keeping him down on earth as Aki threatens to float higher than he ever has, about to crash and burn hard.

“A–Aki, oh,” Angel sobs. “Fuck, oh fucking—Aki.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re loud.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel whines, and then, “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

Nails digging into skin, Aki can feel it. The way Angel’s back is forced into a lovely arch. Trying to push him out, and Angel’s fighting against it. Fucking back, meeting his thrusts. In a sloppy state, the kisses are now messy, and all of them are missing.

It’s not enough, Angel begging for more, more, please, just—harder. Teeth gritted and there’s Aki, chasing a higher there seems to be no ceiling for.

He shifts and grunts as he gets Angel’s thighs under his grip. Tossing their weight until Aki’s back hits the back of the couch. The feel of Angel’s shoulder blades cutting into his chest. A warm expanse of skin plastered against his front, Angel takes him that much deeper. Soaked to the point that Aki has the fleeting worry for the state of his couch; it’s too hot and raw, and he needs Angel to come.

It’s a better angle; Aki fills him up. Angel takes it all over and over again. Harder, Aki’s thighs burn, and he’s aching and—

“C’mon,” he spits out.

Angel whimpers, loud, and his voice is a broken, pitiful thing. Punched out of him as Aki slams him down onto his cock. Whining, panting helplessly, “I-I’m coming.”

Aki grits his teeth. “C’mon, fuck.”

“Want you—you to, ngh, come too.”

Aki slams his hips up, deeper and searching, and he’s finding because Angel’s face breaks finally. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. Both arms wrapped around Angel’s middle, holding him still as his back arches and Aki’s cock finds home. That’s no longer working; he’s crying out too much, moving around from the force of Aki driving up and into him. Trying to get away while begging for more, Aki’s seeing stars now. Fear his vision might white out when he comes himself.

He readjusts, manages to get his arms around the back of Angel’s thighs. Almost folded in half, taking him even harder. Like he keeps asking, a steady stream of begging for more, it has to ache, and Aki lets out a heavy breath at the anguish in Angel’s voice as he cries,

“Feels good, oh—fuck.”

Fingers finding fingers, squeezing, and Angel shatters, those lips part, and it’s a cry. A loud sob, his chest caving with the force of it as Aki fucks him through it.

Fucks Angel through his incoherent, near-hysterical mumbling and whimpering. Crying out of, harder, don’t stop, more more, Aki, oh, ah, ah—

Aki follows, buried fully in Angel’s cunt. Doesn’t know what else he has to give, but he’s trying. He comes and spills inside Angel to the final feeling of fingers in his hair, gripping tight and the fucking warmth that’s surrounding him. Burning him up, once it all catches light, it goes up in an instant, and it’s Angel’s name that falls from his lips.

Takes him three tries to get it out, three more hard snaps of his hips before he manages. An angel’s name falling from his lips, valentine’s eyes turning to meet his. Aki fills him up, encouraged by the i-inside me, fuck, please, arms tightening around Angel’s middle.

And then it’s silent.

Neither of them able to catch their breath, Aki’s eyes wide until they’re squeezed shut. Opened, Angel’s hair in his face. Over his shoulder, brushing against his skin. The rise and fall of Angel’s chest, they’re stuck together with sweat, and the silence is like a knife, a vacuum. Aki’s never realized how quiet his apartment is until now.

“Huh,” Angel finally huffs. Hums, more like it, an ungraceful heap in Aki’s lap, as he says. Bordering on whines, “Oh, I’m tired.”

“You’re gonna get soap in my eyes,” Angel mumbles, turning and grimacing. Looking up at Aki.

He looks human, looks a damp, wet dog mess with his hair in his eyes. Angel watches as he glances down and pushes it back. The bubbles start to slide, slipping down Angel’s forehead, and they’re too close to his eyes. Angel goes to thumb them away, but his fingers are wet, and—

“Stop, don’t move,” Aki whispers, leaning close and firmly wiping at Angel’s temple with a thumb. Angel’s nose scrunches, and he squints, there’s soap. In his eye—

It’s starting to burn; the soap and water isn’t hot enough. He’s trying to reach around them, thumbing at the knob to turn it up, but Aki glances back. Bats his hands away and says,

“I said don’t move, fuck.”

“It’s in my eye,” Angel whines.

“Well, stop moving.”

“Eugh.” And then, after a pause, which allows Aki to get the bubbles away from his eye, “I liked you better twenty minutes ago.”

“You’re funny.”

Angel moves around him in the small shower, letting the water run through his hair, washing the shampoo out. He squints an eye and says, “You think?”

*

“Do you ever brush your hair?” Aki asks, standing in his bathroom. Angel is watching from the mirror.

“Too much work,” he mumbles, thumbing at some old Halloween candy he had found in the kitchen while Aki found them clothes. He’s wearing an old sleep shirt; it’s soft and warm and smells of the laundry soap Aki uses. A new pair of boxers, fresh out of the dryer. A blue raspberry lollipop in his mouth, a bit old, but it tastes good still.

It’s still candy.

Angel’s head tugs back with the force of the brush. There are tangles; he has a lot of hair. It's too much for a haircut, too much to keep it knot-free, smooth, and nice most of the time. But Aki had said nothing, only brushed through his own hair before leading Angel in front of the mirror with two hands on his shoulders. Getting him to stand there as he combs through it.

Top to bottom, getting all the tangles out and drying it off with the towel.

Angel’s back is wet, and Aki looks too concentrated. Taking care of him, Angel’s never really felt how he's currently feeling and thinks it might be the nicest feeling he will ever feel.

The lamp has been turned off, and Aki is only fifty percent sure Angel fell asleep.

Almost immediately after showering. Hair still damp, Aki had offered to blow dry it, but his hands had been batted away instead. Arms thrown around his neck, nothing was said as Angel near strangled him, dragging him back to the couch. Like a dog on a leash, he went.

The extra towel was tossed to the other end of the couch; Aki had used it to clean Angel earlier after he left him, lying there like a crime scene, before trying his hardest to wipe him up without disturbing him and getting a soft whine of protest in the process.

So very lazy, so very tired after doing none of the work.

Angel had been lifted, wrapped in a blanket again, and set back on the couch after the shower. Falling against Aki’s side when he sat down, the TV turned on, and they’re just watching it. Nothing else but their fingers are intertwined under the warmth of the blanket. Sweating away, tucked against Angel’s side.

It all feels very normal in the sense that it's not a big deal. He no longer feels sixteen; Aki feels like himself. Ordinary, in a good way, not mundane in the slightest.

Angel hums, “Hm?”

“What?” he whispers, trying to look down, but Angel’s hair is in his eyes; there might be a bit of drool on Aki’s bare shoulder. Who knows?

The commercials hit, and then Aki is leaning back, concern in his eyes because Angel is getting up, pushing off the couch, and standing. Looking around, his hair is already starting to dry, a frizzy mess in the back from the pillows. His boxers are hanging low on his hips; Aki can see the dimples there and swallows.

But then Angel is walking, with determination, over to the small basket in the corner of the room. Grabbing a blanket, as Aki goes to protest, Angel ignores his look before sitting back down where they had been. Grabbing the blanket he had been wrapped in; he bundles himself back up.

Before leaning forward around Aki and tossing the new one over his legs. Where they had been a bit too long, feet cold poking out of the end because Aki, of course, had favored Angel’s warmth over his own.

“I like this show,” he says after settling against against Aki’s side.

“You watch it?”

“No, but it’s funny,” Angel mumbles, looking up to meet his eye. “How many episodes are there?”

*

Masochism for masochism’s sake, wrapped up in Valentine’s eyes and blue raspberry lips, Aki feels Angel’s fingers tug in his hair again.

Twisting, there’s a crick in Aki’s neck now from the force in which Angel is trying to drag him into his cunt. He’s already taking three fingers, wrapped around wet heat on Aki’s bed; the sheets under them need to be washed. They might just need to be tossed; they’re old anyway. Either way, they’re not sleeping on them tonight.

Angel cries out again, and it cuts through the show, still playing in the living room.

“More,” Angel pants. Begs, amends, and repeats, over and over, “Moremoremore—please, oh—”

“Fuck,” Aki curses to himself, repositioning. Lifting, watching the curve of Angel’s back worsen, deepen as he lifts his hips off the bed and slips another finger inside Angel alongside his tongue.

Licking him over, chasing after every bit he can get. Single-mindedly, Aki can’t quite get the hang of keeping his eyes open. So he can see Angel’s face, the way he cries out when Aki draws back just to watch where his cunt swallows his fingers. Heavy breaths as he licks over the inside of Angel’s thighs, groaning.

Moaning, they’re both at fault for any noise complaints come morning.

Like they’re both playing a game, almost to the finish line. “C’mon,” Aki says against Angel’s wet cunt. Running down his fingers, his neck is wet, and it’s drying. Angel’s already come twice, but if one thing Aki knows now, he’s greedy.

So fucking greedy, it’s driving him near insane. Aki still doesn’t know what else he can give, but he’s giving everything he has once more.

Both of them are, Angel aiming for the edge of too much, oh fuck and more, harder please, and Aki for the taste of the man under him and the way last time Angel came, he got to see a smile. A peek of white teeth, long lashes against cheeks, smiling to himself before opening his eyes and meeting Aki’s again.

He’s greedy for that and wants to see it again.

*

Blue raspberry cries, the taste slipping into Aki’s mouth when Angel draws him in for a deep kiss. That’s how he falls asleep, with a crumpled and soaked set of sheets on the floor of his bathroom, a blanket from the closet he hasn’t had to use in years thrown over the mattress for them to sleep on top of.

Angel curls up on top of him; it had started as drawing him close. Legs tangled in a perfectly acceptable, comfortable way, but Angel had quickly turned and hmph in his near-sleep before almost scaling Aki. Crawling on top of him, he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

There’s warm breath against the crook of Aki’s neck and sweet fingers under him, Angel’s arms wrapped around his middle. He’s pretty sure there’s drool again; there’s definitely hair in his mouth and airways, and Aki should have found a hair tie before they got too comfortable.

But this definitely doesn’t seem like a first date or hooking up, and it’s lovely.

Wonderful. Really, really, fucking nice. Aki hadn’t realized how empty the air around him had been before right now. There’s just less space, there’s hair in his mouth, and it’s not even that late, but that hair smells like his shampoo, and every once in a while, when Aki swallows, he can still taste a bit of blue raspberry behind his teeth.

*

And then he wakes up alone, curled up around empty blankets.

Aki pats the bed, feels a slight warmth, but the room is dark; his bedroom door cracked ever so slightly, and he can see the changing colors of the TV. The sound is lower than it had been when they fell asleep, and the sheets smell of what he’s quickly come to understand is Angel. Aki manages to get the lamp turned on, reaching down and pulling a shirt off the floor before his brows furrow, and he opens his bedroom door.

Readjusts where his sweatpants lie as he looks around his place.

The first thing he sees is Angel’s backpack and shoes, still where they had been dropped in the entryway. The bouquet of flowers is gone, no angel cheeks to be seen, and Aki draws a hand down his face. His bottom lip is between his teeth, and there’s this sudden pit—

And then it’s a peek into the kitchen, and there, Aki finds Angel.

That’s his shirt that had been hung in his closet before falling asleep. His socks, a nice pair. Cashmere, a gift from years ago Aki’s worn a few times when he’s had to wear a suit. Peering into the fridge, the shadow of Angel’s arm holding open the door as he leans in is cast into the dark room. A very old and frostbit carton of ice cream is set on the counter, and Aki takes another step forward.

Sees the spoon hanging from Angel’s mouth.

A look of concentration on his face before he peeks around. Pushing past some eggs and a few jam jars. Rummaging through Aki’s food in the middle of the night, Aki curses because they haven’t really eaten dinner. Depending on who you ask, maybe ice cream is dinner, but. Well, Angel apparently decides at that moment that there’s nothing more of interest in the fridge and straightens.

His hair is already a tangled mess again; it’s actually a bit curly once it dries. A few stray ringlets are falling down his back. Aki glances at the counter, and those angel cheeks are sitting on the bar.

Angel shuts the door and then says,

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?” he looks back, reaching for the carton of vanilla ice cream and walking towards Aki. “It’s almost the half hour, a new episode is gonna start.”