Title: Because Fate Works in an Odd Way
Fandom: [K], Project K
Characters: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, cameo by Totsuka Tatara, Kushina Anna and Awashima Seri.
Disclaimer: [K] does not belong to me, nor do I make any profit out of this work.
Warnings: unbeta-ed, grammar errors ahoy, OOC-ness abound. Takes place after Saruhiko betrayed HOMRA, but pre-Totsuka's death.
A/N: Written for rizuka whose prompt is "After the betrayal, Saruhiko and Misaki keeps running into each other, accidentally or not." I took a very liberal definition of "running into each other" here, so I'm really sorry if it disappoints you, dear soul mate. Hopefully this will cheer you up a little bit. Chin up!
A [K] Project Fanfiction
Because Fate Works in an Odd Way
01. Bookstore
Misaki hates being so short sometimes.
"Goddammit," he grumbles, looking up at the top row of the bookshelves where a particular book he knows Totsuka-san wants is sitting innocently. Its cover gleams under the light of the bookstore, almost teasing his inability to reach up, and Misaki glares at it like it has personally offended him.
Actually, the fact that the fucking book is sitting up there on the top of the bookshelves itself is an insult.
"I fucking hate this," he grits out, standing on his toes and manages to brush the book with the tips of his fingers. "I am never going back to this damn book store."
"There's a stool—" Kamamoto pipes up from behind him, but Misaki throws another glare at him and he shuts up. Yeah, that's better. Like hell is he going to use the stools meant for kids.
Misaki looks back up, baring his teeth. The book laughs silently.
"Oh, fuck this."
And he jumps, using the tips of his fingers to knock the book backwards. It tilts back and falls to the other direction, making loud thuds as it bumps onto another book and gravity pulls the two books down. Kamamoto yelps, the wuss, but the grin on Misaki's face is victorious. He bends down to pick the picture book Totsuka-san wants, sparing the other book a glance.
A math book, it seems. There are fucking numbers and shapes and scary math formulas on the cover, holy shit. Misaki shudders and makes a face, sweeps up the book and puts it back on a random shelf.
"C'mon, Kamamoto, let's go."
-o0o-
The Algebra book is winking at him.
Saruhiko raises an eyebrow—that's odd. He's been a regular in this book store for years, and he knows how peculiar this store is about putting books on the right shelves. Finding an algebra book on a children picture books shelf in this store is an occurrence with almost zero chance happening.
The book is still winking.
Saruhiko nonchalantly takes the book, swipes a finger on the cover. It looks interesting enough; might even provide decent amusement if he's bored to death tonight. Numbers are easy, numbers are absolute, numbers are fun. It gives him a never-ending challenge; there's always another problem waiting once he's done with one. Unlike people, numbers always have an answer.
The back cover is bent slightly, a proof of how careless whoever has put the book back on the shelf. Saruhiko considers the book for a second, then shrugs and strides out to the cash register.
It costs him almost two thousand yen, but it provides him with the distraction he needs at night.
-o0o-
02. Vending Machine
The vending machine stands proud in a corner of a busy road in Shizume City. It is stocked full every evening by a diligent old man who also runs a small delicacy shop not far from the crossroad. It is old and it makes sounds louder than other vending machines when it drops a drink.
It is also the vending machine closest to SCEPTER 4 headquarters that doesn't sell vegetable juice.
Saruhiko hates vegetable juice with a passion. He'd really rather walk a bit further for a vending machine that doesn't sell them than getting ice coffee from the closest vending machine that sells vegetable juice. Once, Akiyama politely hides a laugh behind his hands when he finds out about Saruhiko's peculiar vending machine choices, but Saruhiko simply flicks a can of coke at him and he shuts up.
And so that morning, the vending machine stands there proudly, already stocked full the night before. Saruhiko stumbles nearly blindly into it, squinting at the harsh sunrays spelling the beginning of summer. Pulling off an all-nighter at the headquarters for almost two weeks is starting to take its toll. He pulls out a 500 yen bill and yawns, letting his finger automatically push a button.
Ice coffee isn't a good choice for his stomach early in the morning, but keeping his eyes open is more important.
The machine makes that loud sound again as it drops his ice coffee, just as he catches Awashima standing silently at the crossroad, staring at him with the slightest hint of a frown—oh fuck, he must have forgotten something.
He clicks his tongue and shuffles forward to leave. "Coming," he mutters lazily, and Awashima turns her back on him, the staccato sounds of her heels louder than Shizume City morning rush in his ears.
-o0o-
His skateboard slips.
"Shit!" is the first curse thrown off his tongue and Misaki nimbly uses one hand to regain his balance. Ah, a patch of water on the sidewalk that he didn't see. Good thing his reflexes are above ordinary. He flexes his arm before bending down to pick his skateboard, annoyed at himself. He would have noticed and avoid that patch of water if he weren't so damn sleepy.
Fuck Fujishima and his tendency to bring strays back to the bar. How the fuck did he even manage to find a goddamn parrot anyway? He's lucky that Totsuka-san likes that parrot—Misaki would have killed it a hundred times for being so fucking loud in the morning.
He glances sideways at the vending machine he would have crashed into if he hadn't caught his balance back. An old vending machine stocked full with ice coffee and fruit juice and milk, just as his stomach grumbles loudly, reminding him that he hasn't had breakfast yet.
And that's his favorite brand of milk, too.
He frowns when he pulls out what little money left in his pocket, and groans. A hundred yen short. This morning just keeps getting fucking better and better.
He absently kicks the vending machine, channeling his irritation for being woken up early when he's never been an early riser. Thus, it is a surprise to hear the loud sound of something jingling from the vending machine, and Misaki instantly brightens.
Someone leaves his change.
And Misaki? Misaki is an outlaw, for fuck's sake. So he simply takes out the change, listens to the jingling sounds they make in his palm, and grins as he puts the rest of his money into the vending machine.
"Thanks for the treat, whoever you are."
The milk tastes extraordinarily delicious.
-o0o-
03. Subway
Rush hour is never kind.
Misaki's scowl is permanent when he steps into the train, Kamamoto right behind him. They barely fits what little space left inside, so squished amongst other people getting out of work that Misaki has to hug his skateboard close to his chest. His eyes narrow when Kamamoto looks down at him, obviously about to ask if Misaki is fine.
"If you so much as fucking ask if I'm squished or not, you are fucking dead." Misaki hisses menacingly, but Kamamoto gives him a sheepish grin and closes his mouth.
At the next station, they have to jostle around and make room for a couple girls trying to get off the train. Misaki ducks his head and discreetly moves further inside the train, trying to give way for the girls without having to bump on them. His cheeks are aflame when he finds himself sidled up right next to a tall, slender woman with big breasts, but he distinctly heard the train doors closing.
Well, shit. The train is packed again and he can't just move around to find himself a space that is not next to someone from the female gender.
He looks up and around, trying to find Kamamoto's figure and failed spectacularly. They've been separated, it seems. Misaki sighs, anxiously takes a step sideways to avoid bumping onto the woman's side when the train makes a turn. Oddly, it results with the woman looking down on him with a frown.
He shifts uncomfortably, realizing that his skateboard is digging onto the woman's hip. "Uh. Uhhh—yeah, sorry about that."
"Please stop moving around so much," she huffs. "It's packed enough as it is."
His cheeks goes even redder. "Y-yeah. I-if you could just—uhh. Step away a little—"
She stares back at him incredulously, a hint of irritation clear in her eyes. "There's no more space here."
"Well, well, still so awkward around girls, aren't you Mi-sa-ki…?" the drawl cuts in even before Misaki can register what the statement means, but the next thing he knows is that he's being gently moved aside; a familiar slender body slips in between him and the young woman. The familiar click of a tongue somehow sounds louder than the train, and it takes him a minute before he fully registers the blue uniform of SCEPTER 4.
"What the fuck, Saru?!" he yelps, surprised and indignant at meeting the former member of HOMRA in such situation. People are turning and staring at him at his outburst; no doubt alerting Kamamoto wherever the fuck he is, but Misaki really couldn't care less. "What are you doing here?!"
Saruhiko clicks his tongue again, still in that irritating way that makes Misaki feel like he's being ridiculous. No shit. "Taking public transportation, the usual. What?" He leers at Misaki, lips twitching up in a smirk. "I just saved Misaki, didn't I? I should get a reward."
Fuck that drawl.
"I didn't need any saving." Misaki hisses, fighting the embarrassed flush threatening to rise up to his face. "And don't call me that, Traitor."
The train screeches into a gentle halt as they reached the next station, and more people rushed into the train. As if it is fucking possible to fit more human beings into this train. Misaki grumbles as the new wave of people pushes him backwards until his back hits the door opposite of the door he came in from, and scowls when Saruhiko jostles around until they're trapped there, face-to-face, as the train begins to move again.
Saruhiko smirks. "Mmm…" he drawls, placing his hands on both sides of Misaki's head, effectively trapping him in place. "It seems like we're stuck like this until your stop. Or mine."
Misaki scowls, turns his body around with much difficulty and determinedly keeps his gaze outside, trying to ignore the way Saruhiko is pressed close to his back. Saruhiko doesn't seem to mind, though—if anything, he just drops his hands and settles them on Misaki's hips.
His breath definitely did not fucking hitch.
"Don't fucking touch me." He grits out, but it sounds weak, because Saruhiko's hands are warm and comfortable and familiar. His body responds too honestly based on experience—apparently it still thinks that Saruhiko's touches are okay, that Saruhiko's fingers aren't something he should flinch away from, that Saruhiko's breath on his ear isn't something he should shy away from.
He hates his goddamn life sometimes.
Saruhiko makes a humming noise. "Shouldn't move around too much in a packed train, okay Mi-sa-kiii..?"
Misaki's lips are thin as he slaps Saruhiko's hand on his hip away, but it lacks pressure and Saruhiko's hands stay. Saruhiko merely chuckles, and that—that's way too familiar, something he hasn't had in months since Saruhiko fucking betrayed him, since Saruhiko fucking left, and Misaki can't deny that he misses this. He misses Saruhiko's touch, the way it burns his skin from the inside, the way it sends his heartbeat into a frenzy. He swallows, presses his body onto the cool metal of the door train in vain effort to put some space between the traitor and himself, but Saruhiko's body follows like it's glued to his back.
He closes his eyes and tries not to make a sound.
Saruhiko murmurs his name, but nothing else moves.
Just like that, and the world narrows down to Saruhiko's existence; his presence on Misaki's back, steady and strong and there. It's both irritating and sad, because Misaki knows this doesn't last—this moment is like a dream, a fucked-up one that exists only for a moment and vanishes once Misaki turns around. And that's sad, because Misaki wants this to last, because he wants Saruhiko with him, wants Saruhiko to be back with HOMRA instead of sticking with the Blues, wants to be happy together with the traitor.
But it's a dream that lasts only for a train ride.
They stay like that until the second to last stop, where Saruhiko simply lets go and leaves; brushing one last touch agains Misaki's hips. Kamamoto finds him afterwards, eyes concerned and anxious, and Misaki swallows hard, ducks his head so Kamamoto can't see his face aflame.
Fuck that Traitor.
-o0o-
04. Family Restaurant
The restaurant is famous for its wide variety of menus.
It isn't a place where Saruhiko frequents, not really. He often stops by; usually carrying orders from the headquarters (Munakata has food cravings on the weirdest time of the day, Saruhiko sometimes wonder if the Blue King is actually pregnant or something). Apparently the restaurant's burritos are out of this world. The rest of SCEPTER 4 members seem to have similar respect regarding this restaurant, too.
It's a cozy place, a diner with a small bar; something unusual for a family restaurant around this area, and it is no secret that Munakata is often found drinking in this restaurant late at night. Saruhiko once heard something about Suoh Mikoto also drinks here sometimes. The interior is simple and neat—the huge room is partitioned into two sections by a glass wall decorated with small, dark-colored flowers. The lighting isn't too bright nor too dim, a perfect atmosphere to have family or friendly dinners. There are small potted plants on the corners, and the chairs are plush and comfortable.
When Awashima brings him along to stop by and gets take-away after a mission, Saruhiko doesn't really mind waiting.
He drops onto a chair, leaning backwards until the back of his head hits the glass partition gently. Awashima's already getting on the line, all elegance and patience as she slowly taps her high-heeled foot onto the pristine white floor. It's been a long day, Saruhiko thinks and clicks his tongue, and closes his eyes.
He doesn't know why, but then he turns to glance behind—gaze finding figures behind the glass wall, and the tuft of orange hair hidden under a beanie that rests on the glass right behind him makes him pause.
A smirk grows on his face.
"Mi-sa-kiii…" he murmurs, eyelids drooping as the first wave of excitement slowly burns in his chest. He twists around in his seat, raises a hand to tap the glass softly, then harder when said figure doesn't notice. He laughs low in his throat when Misaki finally turns around; his usual scowl on his face morphing into genuine surprised before changing into fury just as quickly.
"Saruhiko!" is the first thing he yells out, and Saruhiko can't help the chuckle slipping out of his mouth. People are turning to look at them, but Saruhiko never have eyes for other people when Misaki is concerned. He grins instead, eyes searching for any other HOMRA members and finds Totsuka-san and Anna sitting across Misaki.
Totsuka-san is smiling. Hell, he's even waving amicably. Anna casts him a careful gaze, but then turns her attention back to her vegetables. There's a small box with big red ribbon on her side, and Saruhiko furrows his eyebrows.
Ah, right. It's almost Anna's birthday.
"Early celebration, huh Mi-sa-kii..?" he prolongs the last syllable, and watches Misaki's scowl turns deeper. He taps the glass partition again, purposefully hitting the spot right at the same level as Misaki's eyes. "Did Misaki get Anna a decent present this year, I wonder?"
"Fuck off." Misaki spits, drawing gazes of disapproval from the tables with parents and kids around them. It's a family restaurant after all, and isn't that laughable, the idea of Misaki and Totsuka-san and Anna having dinner in a family restaurant, going so far in playing the game of pretending to be a family? They're no family—easily betrayed, easily left out, easily rejected. He laughs, low and soft, and sees Misaki stiffens.
The effects he has on Misaki—some things never change.
"I don't see Mikoto-san anywhere," he taps the glass again. "Isn't he part of the pretend game? Hey, Mi-sa-ki, where is your hero?" His throat itches with dark laughter, but he only lets his smirk grow. "Shouldn't he be here celebrating Anna's birthday, too? Or is he out somewhere and busy burning things?"
Riling Misaki up is an art he's always trying to perfect, and watching Misaki's face turns dark has never lost its appeal. It's so easy to push Misaki's button—all he has to do is mention the Red King, belittle him a bit, and Misaki will turn into a ball of anger, exploding everything everywhere.
"Shut your trap, Saru." Misaki mutters, and for a second, he looks upset. Saruhiko merely raises an eyebrow, and his eyes finds Totsuka-san's; taking in the sheepish smile and the shake of his head in one glance. Now, that's an expression he's quite familiar with. With a slow grin, Saruhiko presses his forehead onto the glass, catches Misaki's eyes and locks their gazes.
"Ah, ah… what did Misaki do to piss off the Red King, now?"
Misaki glares. "I said shut the fuck up. And don't call me that!"
Saruhiko shrugs, the corner of his eyes catching Totsuka-san chuckling into his palm. Anna still doesn't spare him any of her attention, not that it's a big deal for him. He taps the glass again; a rhythmic sound that mirrors a morse code, except with no message. Riling Misaki up and all is nice, but this is Munakata's favorite restaurant, and Saruhiko has no desire to piss off the Blue King tonight. One of Misaki's eyebrows twitch, a sure sign that he's irritated, so Saruhiko laughs again, this time with a tone lighter even though Misaki doesn't seem to notice.
Then again, not noticing a single thing is what makes Misaki, Misaki.
Exciting, interesting, bright and vibrant, beloved Misaki.
"But I like your name. Mi-sa-ki." He rolls the word deliberately on his tongue, tasting is even as he drawls it out. "It's pretty."
"Fuck you, Traitor," Misaki snaps hotly. "Tonight is special for Anna, I won't let you fuck it up. Get the fuck off our sights."
"How boring," Saruhiko comments lightly, then lowers his lashes, the way he's done it so many times, the way he knows makes Misaki shiver, the way he used to do to pin Misaki down onto a bed. "And I was hoping that Misaki meant it literally, too."
Misaki splutters, cheeks flushing red so fast Saruhiko thinks he might have burnt himself, and he smirks in satisfaction when Totsuka-san finally laughs loudly. That's enough for tonight, he thinks, and turns around to sag back into his chair and rests the back of his head on the glass partition, content with his victory.
He thinks he hears a soft thud on the glass behind him, but he doesn't turn around. It's probably just his imagination anyway.
-o0o-
Awashima nods her thanks to the girl behind the cash register, and slips her a big tip instead of putting the money into the tip jar. The girl scrambles to bow her gratitude, but Awashima doesn't even spare her a smile.
She's in a hurry, after all.
She turns around, catches sight of Fushimi lounging on one of the tables right in front of the glass partition, and pauses.
Well. She knows they have history—Fushimi and that ace of HOMRA, but the sight make her feel like she's intruding a private scene. A deep secret, if you will. One that Fushimi doesn't seem to notice.
Because Yata Misaki has his forehead pressed onto the glass partition where the back of Fushimi's head rests; gaze cast down in such sadness that Awashima has to swallow her sudden sympathy, face twisting up as if he's in pain.
It's a private expression. Intimate, somehow.
Awashima looks away, steels herself, and strides evenly towards the table until Fushimi looks up.
"We're going."
"Yeah, yeah." There's the usual click of tongue she's gotten used to, and Fushimi pulls himself up, not bothering to look back at the figures behind the glass partition.
Awashima spares a glance at those left behind, finds Yata Misaki slumped on the table, Kushina Anna pushing her vegetables around the plate, and Totsuka Tatara's soft gaze meeting hers. He smiles and nods at her, both in respect and friendly greeting, but somehow Awashima feels like he's telling her something.
Please take care of him, those eyes say.
She closes her eyes and sighs, before walking away.
-o0o-
05. A Little Girl
"It's magic," Totsuka-san says cheerfully, dropping a decorated chocolate candy onto Misaki's palm and clasps his hands over it. "Dear God, may whoever eats this chocolate be tied to Yata with a red thread forever."
Misaki makes a face. "That's ridiculous shit, Totsuka-san."
"It's magic," Totsuka-san repeats, eyes dancing with certainty as he turns around to Anna. "Here, Anna, let me put magic in your chocolates, too!"
"She's only giving them to her classmates, Tatara." Kusanagi-san calls out from the kitchen corner. "Don't put spells on all her classmates."
Misaki raises an eyebrow, fingers working deftly to untie the apron he's wearing. Totsuka-san had forced him to make chocolate candies for Anna's classmates this year, then tugs him along to bake a huge chocolate cake for the HOMRA members. "That's not real magic, Kusanagi-san."
"It is if you believe it enough," Totsuka-san throws him a teasing smile. "Doesn't Yata have someone he wants to be tied to so badly?"
Misaki frowns, but it has more to do with the fact that the first figure flashing in his mind at Totsuka-san's words is a particular dark-haired former HOMRA member. Fuck that. "Nah." He considers it for a second. "Mikoto-san doesn't like sweets… does he?"
"Not a chance," Totsuka-san flicks his forehead affectionately, laughing his way out of the kitchen. Misaki grins, pockets the candy and before hanging the apron back. Anna is still sitting daintily on the counter, gathering the chocolate candies she's supposed to bring to school tomorrow. One chocolate candy falls down just as Misaki's reflex kicks in. He catches the falling candy in a smooth movement and puts it back on the counter for Anna.
Anna glances at him, her gaze steady and calculating.
"Give it to him," she says. "He'll be happy. Even if he isn't going to come back."
Misaki surprises himself when a rough laughter rips off his throat. "I don't give a single fuck about him."
"Tatara puts his magic in it." Anna replies with such conviction in her voice, the way a younger kid would talk about Santa Claus and Tooth Fairies. Except Anna isn't an ordinary little girl—she's a mature adult in her own way, and Misaki can't help but believe in anything she says. "You desperately want him to be tied with you."
"I am not," Misaki complains, pats Anna on the head and leaves her alone with her candies. He waves off Kamamoto's offer to keep him company on the way out of the bar, catches Totsuka-san's soft smile when he passes him on the door, and sees Chitose flicking a chocolate candy at Dewa. Mikoto-san is lounging on the couch, but his eyes follow Misakito the door, and Misaki feels like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar in the middle of the night.
He slips out of the bar, closes the door behind him, and slides down the road with his skateboard.
Ten minutes later, he's staring at SCEPTER 4 headquarters, feeling stupid.
"What the fuck." He grumbles, shuffles backwards as he keeps his skateboard tucks under his arm. The Blue Clan members on the gate is keeping an eye on him, exchanging frowns and suspicions, and Misaki really is not in the mood to mess with the Blues today. So he turns around and tracks back from where he comes, back to the heart of Shizume City where the evening rush is just about to begin.
When he passes the vending machine, there's a little girl sitting on the sidewalk, watching people pass by quietly.
"Hey," Misaki says, just as quietly, and the girl looks up and smiles. Her eyes are big, round and bright, cheerful even as she brushes invisible dust off her modest clothes. Misaki crouches so he's eye-to-eye with the little girl and watches her tilt her head slightly in confusion. "What're you doing?"
She replies, naïve and simple, "My Dad is picking up his date."
He doesn't quite know how to respond to that, so he just scratches his head and pulls out the chocolate candy from his pocket. The girl's face is alight with hope, and Misaki grins as he drops the candy onto her hand.
"It's for you," he says, drawing himself back on his feet. The girl returns his grin with a wider one, but her voice is soft and somewhat understanding when she opens her mouth.
"Happy Valentine's Day!"
Misaki stares at her, uncomprehending, but smiles in the end anyway.
"Yeah. Happy Valentine."
-o0o-
He pauses before his favorite vending machine, blinking down at the little girl sitting in front of it. She's on the way.
"Hey," Saruhiko mutters. "Get off here."
The little girl stands up, brushes the invisible dust on her modest gaze and looks up to him, frowning. Saruhiko clicks his tongue, impatient but not in the mood for blood tonight. He reaches forward and feeds money to the vending machine, pushes the button for ice coffee, and makes sure he takes his change.
All the while, the little girl keeps her gaze on him, thoughtful now rather than disapproving.
"You look very tired, Oniichan." She finally says.
Saruhiko raises a perfect eyebrow.
The little girl pats down the front of her shirt, fumbling around before fishing out a chocolate candy out of a pocket. She tugs at Saruhiko's arm, to which he responds with an annoyed click of his tongue and an extended hand. The candy is shoved into his palm; the girl forcing him to accept it with a grin that's just as bright as the moon up on the sky.
What is this shit, Saruhiko thinks, but says nothing.
"Chocolate is good for you when you're tired!" she explains with a serious face, like Saruhiko is a kindergarten kid and she's his teacher. Then she smiles rather blindingly, and sits back on her original spot before the vending machine. Saruhiko blinks, not quite sure if he should recognize this as a threat, but it's just a chocolate candy, and—oh.
No wonder the city is extraordinarily pink today.
"Aren't you a bit too young to have boyfriends?" he drawls, uninterested, as he rolls the candy in his palm. It's small, obviously hand-made and decorated with simple white dots of frosting. Saruhiko is not really that fond of sweet things, but this candy is pretty enticing.
"I don't have one." She replies lightly, and turns a curious stare at him. "Do you, Oniichan?"
Saruhiko stares at the candy, remembers a time when he would wake up to random cookies or lunch wrapped up neatly, a time when a certain someone would come over to his house and willingly cook him his favorite food. There's affection in hand-made things, in homemade cooking, and Saruhiko's never been good at sharing. He hates it when Misaki starts cooking for other HOMRA members, because that privilege should have been his and only his; something special and exclusive only to him.
But Misaki is a free soul. Saruhiko can never catch him and keep him down.
Misaki leaves him behind. It's only fair that Saruhiko does the same.
"Oniichan?"
He brings the candy into his lips, lets it rest there for a second before answering "I think I did," and pops the candy into his mouth.
Then bitterness with a hint of sweet flavor fills his mouth, and Saruhiko knows it is love.
-o0o-