Partners
Chapter 1
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"It's only a minor scratch."
"Yeah, right. Then why is it that you're holding onto your side like that?"
Keys clanked harshly against the low wooden table, thrown by the petite woman who frowned at the man closing the door to his apartment. He gave her a blank look as he slowly took off his dark trench coat, draping it over one arm.
Her frown deepened, her glare concentrated at the trench coat-covered arm obscuring her view of the wound. Fine, if he was going to give her the silent treatment, then she'll just have to do the same, only her way.
Just as he turned towards his bedroom, ignoring her question, she marched up to him and jerked up his black shirt from the waistband of his equally dark pants, revealing a shallow but still bleeding gash across his lower ribs. He hissed at the sudden movement and glared down at her.
Misao glared right back, poking at his wound with a firm index finger, this time causing him to grunt softly under his breath. "Quit being so macho, Aoshi," she told him, jerking his shirt back down, ignoring his quick intake of breath. She shook a finger under his nose. "Go to your room and take off that shirt." Then sniffing, she gave him one more order, her nose wrinkling, "No, go take a bath first. I'll go find your first aid kit."
Aoshi remained where he was; his head tilted a tad to the side, finding it a bit amusing and a bit incredulous that she would be ordering him around in his own home.
"Well," Misao said, expectantly, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed. "What are you waiting for? Get going." She pushed him towards his bathroom. Reluctantly, he let her lead him there. Once at the door, she stopped him and tugged at his coat. He tugged back.
"What're you doing?" she demanded, tugging harder.
"Go home. It isn't difficult to bandage a simple wound."
She gave him a fierce scowl. With a vicious yank, she finally managed to take the coat away from him.
"If you don't go in there, I'm gonna kick you in a not so nice spot and make sure you get cleaned," she threatened between clenched teeth.
Giving him one last shove, with enough power to send his huge frame back a step and into the bathroom, she shut the door firmly in his face. From behind the closed door, he could hear her grumbling and it faded along with her footsteps as she went in search of bandages.
Then it occurred to him that she was angry. At him. He ran a hand through his hair before carefully stripping off his shirt. Gingerly, he inspected the wound in the mirror and discovered that it had stopped bleeding. He hoped he didn't have any bandages around in his apartment; then it would result in her having to go to her place, a floor above his, for them. If he washed up quickly enough, he would lock her out after he was done and deal with her anger the next day when he felt more like it. Now, after all the adrenaline rush from earlier was dissipating, leaving him too tired to deal with emotional things, like Misao's temper, all he wanted to do was meditate, drink tea, and sleep. Also, there was the hope of her anger disappearing if she rested and calmed down for several hours. With that planned, he removed the rest of his clothes and dumped them in the laundry bin nearby.
Emerging from his bathroom moments later clad in his yukata, feeling a bit refreshed but still exhausted, he pattered down to the living area to find any signs of Misao. Rubbing excess water from his hair with a towel, he nearly missed the slight movement in his room when he passed by it.
He sighed, leaning against the doorframe, his damp towel abandoned and forgotten on his head. He took too long in cleaning up.
Misao sat on his bed, looking as though it belonged to her considering she had completely dominated the huge bed. The once smooth comforter on his bed was crinkled and pulled up from the neat edges of his bed. She had removed her thin gray zippered sweater, revealing a dark blue tank top that clung to her slight form, and it lay crumpled next to her on the bed. His eyes lingered at the slight twin protrusions pushing against the fabric of her tank top, and dimly he wondered if she wore a bra underneath that small tank top. A quiver of desire went through him. Quickly, he squelched the feeling before it went anywhere. He continued with his observations.
In one hand, she held a bottle of beer, and with the other, she fussed with bandages of all different sizes that lay scattered across her lap and spilling onto his bed. Every now and then, she would take a sip from the bottle. He wondered, again, where she found them in his apartment when he knew that he had never bought them.
She looked up, sensing his presence and smiled at him. Scooping up the bandages in front of her and placing them nearby, she patted the now empty space.
"Sit down," Misao said, smiling at him. "I need to clean up that wound of yours."
He obeyed, setting the towel around his neck. He supposed her anger had faded away while he was in the bathroom.
"That is not necessary. The bleeding has stopped," he told her.
Her smile disappeared and she scowled up at him, setting her bottle of beer on the floor. "It wouldn't have been necessary at all if you weren't acting so macho," she said, tugging at the collar of his yukata.
He had supposed wrong.
"Knowing you, you'd just forget about it and it'll fester and it'll heal wrong and you'll have another scar to your collection."
She managed to pull open his yukata, revealing a chest full of scars, and pulled it down his right arm. Then she pulled his arm out of the yukata sleeve and pushed his arm upwards, grunting as she did so.
"A little help here?" she asked, quirking up an eyebrow at him.
Appeasing her, he shifted, leaning on his other arm and moving his other arm back, enough so that the wound could be easily seen. He waited for the touch of cold fingers on his skin but when it felt like minutes, he looked down at her, wondering at her hesitation. Her eyes had taken a blank look to them and she wasn't moving.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Her eyes snapped and sparks returned to her bright emerald eyes. Movement returned to her body as she opened a bottle of peroxide and, tilting it, she generously soaked the cotton ball held at the mouth of the bottle with the substance. Aoshi grew concerned as the cotton ball became more than a damp ball and was about to stop her when she swabbed his wound with firm long strokes. He winced at the rough treatment, sucking in a quick gasp of breath.
"Hold still. It's your fault for getting hurt anyway," she told him in a low tone.
Perhaps it was his fault for the minor wound. He had underestimated the fighting abilities of the thug he was taking down. He had barely managed to dodge the knife heading towards his exposed side before brutally breaking the arm that held it. Besides, he had to prevent the low-life from attacking his partner from behind.
"Are you angry that I had come to help you?"
"Of course I'm angry!" she exclaimed. She put aside the cotton ball and reached for one of the scattered bandages. "I could have handled him. You were supposed to be after the other guys. But no, you had to go and be the hero of the day."
"That's not the real reason why you're upset," he said, watching her bowed head.
Her hands stilled at his side briefly before firmly attaching the bandage to his side.
"Lately, I felt like you've been shadowing me. No more than that. It's like you're shielding me from something, following me around, and almost growling at strangers." She frowned, her gaze distant. "Now that I think about it, every time there's an assignment, you're always in front of me or telling me to step back and let you in first."
"This angers you?"
She glared at him, her expression stating the obvious. "Duh, you idiot. I would think that after being partners in the force for at least two years, it would make you realize that I don't need any coddling from anyone."
"I wasn't coddling you."
"Then what was it? 'Cause it definitely felt like it."
"Don't you think I do that for precautionary measures?"
"You know I can take care of myself when things get tough. And I thought that since we're partners, you would consider us as equals."
"Misao, the reason I have a partner is so that there would be someone there to watch my back if there's trouble. I would also do the same thing for my partner."
"But lately, there seems to be more of watching my back than usual," she argued.
"Maybe you've just realized what it means to have a partner and to be one," he replied back, calmly.
Misao humphed and took a sip of her beer.
Aoshi scrutinized the bottle that she held to her mouth, and then his eyes strayed to the slender column of her neck, watching her swallow. He wondered what it would feel like if he put his lips there as she cried out his name.
To distract himself from the sight and his thoughts, he asked, "Where did you get the beer?"
Misao let out a delicate burp and sigh. "Oh, this?" She grinned cheekily at him. "I bought a six-pack a while back and stuffed 'em somewhere in your fridge. I know you don't check your fridge often so that's why I hid them in there. Besides, I always hang out at your place after work. I might as well have some drinks afterwards. And there's no chance that you can find them. I hid them very well."
Seeing that he was still watching her, she waved the bottle in his face. "Want some?" she teased him, mischievously.
He waved away the bottle in front of him. "No, thanks."
She flopped onto her back, letting out a gusty sigh, throwing her arms above her head. Aoshi plucked the bottle of beer out of her hands before she could spill a drop and set it on the nightstand beside his bed. He turned back to her and nearly fell off his bed.
With her arms above her head, it allowed her breasts to be pushed up high on her chest. She stretched, curving her back, a deep content sound someone would make when waking up coming from her throat. His eyes were drawn to the small breasts pushing against the form fitting tank top and the small stretch of skin suddenly revealed between the hem of her top and the top of her jeans. The tiny belly button surrounded by soft pale skin begged to have him put his tongue there and lick his way up. So caught up in the stretching form of the woman lying on his bed that he nearly missed what she had to say.
"Aoshi, you have the softest bed in the world. Don't be surprised if I decide to sleep here out of the blue."
Of all the things she had to say at that moment. And when he'd been fantasizing her in his bed. For the past month. Or maybe it was longer than that. He wasn't sure. He was sure that there was an instant attraction to his petite partner the first time they met. The reason why he was eluded him during the first few months of their acquaintance but gradually the feeling died down as he realized that they were better off as partners in Tokyo's Police Department. However, he didn't succeed in convincing himself of that fact. For a month after that realization, his mind began playing tricks on him, teasing him with the what-if's of their relationship. It took a sudden turn when he realized that he wanted more out of the comradeship, knowing that he wanted more than a casual relationship with her, and in the end, wanting a permanent relationship with her. Yet what prevented him from delving deeper to a more intimate relationship with the woman at his side was his own personal rule to never get involved with anyone he was working with. As each day passed and he spent more time with her as her friend and close confidante, he found that breaking that rule didn't seem so bad as he first thought.
Tonight tested his limits, seeing how far he can control himself from touching her, from acting on his most basic of desires. Why of all nights, when he was feeling tired and she being so innocently sensuous.
"What," she smiled at him when he didn't make a comment for a while. "Afraid that I'll take over your bed one night and you'll have to sleep out on the living room?"
Aoshi's mind went blank and he bent over her, an arm going over either side of her slender body, trapping the small form to the bed. Later he would wonder if he was moving too swiftly for her to move away or if he had been slowly advancing on her and in her naivety, she did not know that he was going to kiss her. In any case, he was pressing his lips to hers; firmly testing it's softness and shape against his. He could tell she was surprised, her body had stiffened, her mouth slightly opened. He kept himself above her, supported by his outstretched arms, knowing that if he pressed against her, she would push him away and at that moment, he did not want that happening. All he wanted was to taste her and have her respond back of her own will.
He pulled back a bit, just barely touching her lips, and nudged her lips gently, brushing his lips against hers, trying to entice a response. Carefully, he explored her lips, measuring its softness and the shape of her lips, drawing each touch into his mind. When he felt no response from her, only a too still pliancy, he pulled away, disappointment and a deep sense of loss filling within him.
A small hand slowly traced up his still bare arm and shoulder, the slender fingers learning the sharp definitions of his muscles. Then they buried them into wet strands of hair at the nape of his neck, soothing the goosebumps formed there when she began touching him. With a gentle pressure, she pulled his head down, shortening the already short distance between them. This time, Aoshi met eager lips.
He kissed her gently and she responded, her lips parted and eager. The pressure on the back of his neck increased as she urged him to deepen the kiss. And he did, parting his own, aligning them with hers, and slowly exploring its soft contours and the enticing dip of her bottom lip. He followed that dip with his tongue; just a soft nudge that would part her lips more. She let out a soft moan and Aoshi delved into the sweet and sour flavor of her mouth, finding the taste of the beer much more intoxicating upon her lips than if he had drank it himself. She moaned again when his tongue briefly touched her tongue and then quickly retreated. His tongue repeated the touch, this time lingering, running over her top lip. Her hands grasped his face and she moved her head to the side to deepen the kiss. But Aoshi kept the kiss in control and responded to her demands by enticing her tongue to tangle with his.
Aoshi reveled in the taste and feel of her beneath him. Her hands had begun exploring his back and his yukata threatened to completely come off him but it didn't matter to him. He teased her with his kisses, feeling her fingers dig into his back and her body arching into his when he deliberately softened his kisses. He cradled her face in his hands, absorbing himself to just kissing her. Their breathing deepened and their kisses became heated and frantic.
Soon that wasn't enough and he touched her lithe form, memorizing the curves and lines of her body. Then that wasn't enough for him either and he wanted to touch the skin that tempted him earlier. His hand caressed that tempting stretch of skin there, feeling the muscles of her slim stomach tense briefly before relaxing. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, he moved upwards, counting the slight ridges of her ribs, wondering if she ate enough daily. Then his fingers encountered the small curve of breast and he continued, spreading caresses and absorbed with the heated kisses he exchanged with her. He groaned as her small breast filled his broad palm, her nipple hardening as he molded his fingers around her breast.
Suddenly, she froze on him, completely stiffening. Aoshi, too caught up the desire raging through him, noticed it too late. She shoved him off her and jumped off his bed, adjusting her tank top. Aoshi nearly flopped onto his back but caught himself and sat up. Dimly, he wondered what he did wrong. They stared at each other, the silence between them broken by their heavy pants.
Misao broke eye contact first, her face flushing with a deep dark red color. " I- I should be getting home," she stammered. She backed away slowly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Long day you know." She turned to flee.
"Misao."
She stopped abruptly, her braid swinging into a stop against her back.
"You forgot your sweater."
He could see her gathering up her courage before she faced him. But she shouldn't have to worry, he thought, adjusting his yukata so that it covered him once more. He held out her jacket to her.
She turned and without meeting his glance, she snatched the jacket from his outstretched hand. "'Night."
Her footsteps quickly pattered away and after a pause, he could hear the door to his apartment slamming shut after her.
For a while, he sat there on his rumpled bed and amongst the scattered bandages. His gaze looked at nowhere, seeing the items in his room as through the eyes of a stranger. Finally his gaze fell on the bottle of beer still on his nightstand. He reached over and tipped the contents of the bottle into his mouth. The bitter and sour taste filled his mouth and he swallowed, letting the liquid slide down his throat. Then he flopped onto his back, unsure if the feeling in his stomach was due to the beer or the sense of disappointment and regret.
A/N: 'nother fic in the making. Might or might not explore the possibilities of this.