A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm new to writing fanfiction so please leave reviews and help me improve! I usually write horror but am on a slight hiatus to give that part of my brain some rest. All the characters belong to the wonderful Yamane-sensei. I hope you guys enjoy my work!
It struck Akihito, on this particular night, that he had never actually seen Asami drunk.
That is not to say that Asami didn't drink. On the contrary, he seemed to make it a habit to have at least a few tumblers of scotch a night the first thing he got home. Perhaps this was another reason that Akihito had never actually seen him drunk: the man's alcohol tolerance was unbelievable. In fact, Akihito didn't even want to KNOW the amount it would take him to get soused. He would probably have to drink all the liquor in Tokyo to even get a buzz.
Which is why he was so surprised when he came home to find Asami waiting for him at the door, unsteady on his feet.
If the slight sway in his step and the cloud over his golden eyes weren't enough evidence, the strong scent of liquor certainly made up for any remaining doubt. Akihito practically gagged as he eyed the crime lord, who simply stared at him in return.
They stood in a stalemate for what seemed like ages, Akihito wondering what exactly was going on and Asami just… staring. Akihito seriously considered alerting Kirishima, who was, as always, standing guard outside the door, but before he could, Asami suddenly decided to break the silence.
"Welcome… home," he said, a slight pause as the words worked their way out of his mouth. He managed not to slur but it looked like it took a great feat of concentration to do so.
Akihito, in response, turned absolutely bright red, resembling a traffic light more than the sneaky little photographer he was. Asami never used greetings – he seemed to think he was above them, unlike the rest of Japan – and rarely met the photographer at the door. This was strange… too strange. Akihito felt, suddenly, as though he was treading on thin ice as he answered, "Um… I'm… home?"
As soon as the words left his lips, Asami lurched towards him. Akihito might have tried to fight him off, but he was held in check more by fear than anything else. What the hell had gotten into Asami? He didn't put up a fuss as the man threw him over his shoulder, afraid that any unexpected movements would throw off the older man's balance and send them both hurtling towards the ground in disarray and certain pain.
Asami began to cart him off towards their bedroom and Akihito felt his heart leap into his throat. Of course, this part of the evening was expected – if Asami got home before Akihito, he usually whisked the photographer away for sex before Akihito even had his shoes off and dinner started. However, now Akihito had to factor in Asami's current state of inebriation and his thoughts started to race with the possibilities.
Unfortunately, he thought, Asami being unable to perform was out of the question. He had seen the man's stamina and, quite frankly, it was terrifying. He guessed the crime lord would be just as virile drunk. However, being drunk meant that he might have a little less… control. That thought both excited and horrified Akihito. On the one hand, his less restrained reactions could be the most erotic thing Akihito had ever seen. On the other, with Asami lost to reason, the little photographer could be under his onslaught for hours, with the man deaf to his pleas for rest.
He was still mulling over the possible outcomes when Asami threw him onto the bed. He threw him a little harder than he probably intended, and Akihito felt the wind being knocked out of him. Asami's eyes were locked on him like prey and Akihito shivered.
"Um, Asami, are you… okay?" He asked, not because he wanted to know, but because he had to think of something to say, anything that might get the man to respond to him.
Asami ignored him. Instead, he dropped to the bed and pounced on Akihito…
And pulled him into his embrace.
Akihito lay there for a moment, completely stunned. Asami had pulled him hard against his chest, hugging him into his body like Akihito was a hapless teddy bear. The man made no move to undress him or to attack him like he usually did. He just held him there, relaxing onto the bed as if to sleep.
Yes, that's right. Asami was cuddling him.
Akihito almost couldn't breathe, the arms were so tight around him. He looked up in desperation at his lover and saw that the man's eyes had slipped shut, as though he was asleep, but Akihito could tell by his breathing that he was still awake.
"Asami… loosen your grip a little, it's too tight!..."
The man pretended not to hear him and kept his arms in place, much to Akihito's dismay.
After a few suffocating minutes, Akihito made as if to push away from Asami. The arms tightened and crushed him back against the man's body, and a deep noise emanated from Asami's throat that sounded more like a growl than anything else. Akihito was beginning to wonder if he would ever get away when Asami lowered his head and began to place kisses all over Akihito's mop of messy hair.
As he kissed, he muttered unintelligibly, and Akihito felt his face turning that god-awful shade of red again. Fuck, he wished he could hear what his lover was saying! Although he couldn't, the constant stream of kisses kept him busy as Asami showered him with attention.
Eventually, Asami's breathing evened out and his kisses slowed to a stop. Akihito had thought he might be able to escape once Asami was asleep, but every attempt to extricate himself from the man's arms was met with the same reaction: a reflexive tensing of the man's muscles as though he was afraid his little kitten was going to disappear.
Akihito felt his heart swell as he looked at Asami in his sleep. His mussed hair had fallen in front of his face and he had taken on an almost boyish look in his relaxation. When Akihito snuggled a little willingly, he saw a small smile work its way onto the man's lips as he tightened his arms in response. At that, Akihito's heart melted and he decided that perhaps – just this once, mind you – it wouldn't be so terribly bad to indulge his lover.
VFVFVFVFVFVFVFVF
If the sunlight hadn't woken Asami the next morning, his splitting headache would have. Just how much had he drunk last night? It had been a stressful day at work and he'd decided to indulge himself a little before his kitten got home… but one bottle became two, and then three, and then four… fuck. He was too old to be pulling stupid shit like this. Speaking of his kitten…
Akihito was lying in his arms, snuggled up against him. Asami noticed with surprise that Akihito was fully dressed, right down to the dirty sneakers that he wore on his stakeouts. Asami could feel that he, too, was wearing much more clothing than he usually did when he brought the little photographer into their bed. A small stab of panic hit him and he began to wonder, what the fuck did I do last night?
He was still quietly panicking when Akihito woke up next to him. To his immense surprise, his lover smiled at him and threw his arms around the older man's neck.
"Good morning, Ryuichi!" Asami paused at that – Akihito had never before called him by his given name.
Asami grunted in response, his headache slowly subsiding. Akihito smiled up at him with shining eyes. Asami thought at that moment how beautiful his little lover looked. Did I put that look on his face?... I hope so, he thought.
Suddenly, Akihito bounded out of bed. "You stay in bed, Asami, you must not be feeling so great after last night!" Akihito had slipped out of his shoes and was pulling on fresh clothes as Asami stared. Finally, the younger man turned around and, still beaming, said, "I'll go make you some breakfast! You don't have to work today, right? Neither do I, so I can stay at home with you and make sure that you feel better!" And then he did something Asami was a thousand percent certain he'd never done before: he walked up to the side of the bed and planted a "good morning" kiss on Asami's forehead.
And then, just like that, Akihito was out the door and in the kitchen fixing them breakfast. Asami stared at the door for a few minutes, quietly wondering what the fuck had happened the night before, before he broke out in a smile.
He laid back in bed, resolving to examine the security tapes to find out how the night had gone, and replicate it at least once a month until the day he died. He set about committing that sight to memory – Akihito's bright eyes and glorious smile. Asami's hangover vanished as Akihito's voice rang out in his head over and over again: "Ryuichi."