A/N: Originally done for the Tsuritama kinkmeme over on Livejournal. This story is a bit creepy and contains one-sided Akira/Haru.
Prompt: kink meme please give me a fill where Akira is using his cameras to stalk Haru for his own purposes and not for Duck. preferably creepy but anything is good
Many of the other agents loathed their time spent on observation duty, staring at the massive grid of monitors and the steady stream of information they presented. A millisecond on one of those monitors could change everything: their mission, their target, the organization itself. Of course, that was what Akira found so interesting. The monitors displayed the fragility of the outside world.
Some of his colleagues worked to preserve mankind's sense of normalcy, to keep the masses blind to the chaos around them. Others tried to dig deeper, to unravel even more chaos, to envelop themselves so deeply within the paranormal that they forgot everything else. It was impossible to systematically take in and process such important information without some sort of moral consequence, whether it be a newfound sense of justice or apathy or insanity.
The apathy was the most prevalent. Sometimes it was difficult to see civilians as more than a set of characteristics and statistics.
He was somewhat thankful for going undercover so frequently. It was nice to converse with people and refer to them by their actual name and not an abbreviation or number. Still, seeing them as more than a number was occasionally a problem.
Such was the case with JF1 or 'Haru'. Eccentric. Extraverted. Unaware of social norms. His threat level varied from extremely low to extremely high, mostly due to the unknown nature of his physiology. There had been some discussion on capturing and dissecting the subject, but it was dismissed due to the high priority of Bermuda Syndrome research. Of course, there were some who openly objected to dissecting something so human-like.
Of course, they were reminded that JF1's appearance was simply an integration mechanism. The actual possibility of humanoids or human-like aliens was slim to none.
His appearance was meaningless, but it was effective.
"Probably one of the cutest aliens I've seen so far," commented one of the other Duck agents as Haru sprayed Yuki with a hose. "He reminds me of my nephew."
"It's a good disguise, I'll give JF1 that," said another, shoveling another spoonful of curry into his mouth. "I don't think the other one's mastered the art of blending in yet."
"The pink hair is a bit much."
Akira frowned. He preferred silence while working, but Tapioca had been nagging him to tolerate the others more. He had bruises on his thigh from her pecking him about it.
"Hey. Akira?"
He looked up at Agent B137. To his right, Tapioca stirred and quacked sleepily.
The agent tapped his watch. "Time to close up."
Akira was surprised to see that it was so late. Maybe he had been a bit too focused on the monitors. His eyes ached. He rubbed them with the backs of his hands.
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to do another hour. Would you mind taking Tapioca with you? Her crate should be in my quarters.
He was answered with a shrug and an affirmative nod. Tapioca, tired and groggy, squawked as she was picked up and carried outside.
The door shut and Akira was finally alone.
He wasn't sure how it started, but that seemed to matter less and less.
JF1.
Haru.
He watched Haru water the plants. The footage was three days old, back when the breeze was strangely still and the sun beat down on Enoshima with a vengeance. Observation had been hell with all the agents cramped so closely together, staring at their monitors with sweat dripping down their faces and staining their suits. He found a discarded cooking pot and filled it with cold water for Tapioca to sit in. She sprayed water everywhere as she preened.
With the heat pressing in, it had been so difficult to see and to focus. He needed to review the footage. He was doing this as a dedicated agent.
It wasn't even perverse, and perhaps that was the strangest part.
He simply liked to watch Haru.
He liked the way Haru smiled first thing in the morning, the way he skipped down stairs and kicked pebbles, the way he helped clean the dishes, the way he buttoned his shirts wrong, the way he flinched when he touched something sharp, the way he borrowed Yuki's assignments and covered them in doodles, the way he cr
And there always seemed to be more about him. He wasn't the same list of traits like the others were.
Haru waved the hose erratically over the flowers, drenching some and missing others entirely. The back of his neck was red from the sun.
Of course he couldn't stay late every night. While Duck agents always watched out for each other, they also watched each other. Any sort of erratic behaviour would be noted and documented and later inspected. The last thing Akira wanted was to explain himself. He couldn't explain himself.
He moved slowly to avoid suspicion. First he began making copies of Duck's existing data on JF1, transferring massive amounts of video and audio to his personal archives. Disguised as a routine backup, the data transfer didn't alarm any of the other agents.
The next part was difficult and also extremely unethical.
He set up his own cameras. They were Duck in origin, but stripped down to their base components. They were smaller, lighter, and due to sacrificing quality, extremely mobile. By controlling them remotely, he could place them without arousing suspicion from the other agents. They downloaded directly to his archives, bypassing those of Duck entirely.
He caught himself, fingers deep inside the inner workings of a camera, wondering how it had come to this.
Tapioca was asleep in her crate. Scattered around Akira's quarters were 56 cameras, still and waiting to be controlled, to be placed, to begin their surveillance. Bits of wire and metal littered the floor.
Carefully sealing the back with a small screwdriver, he set aside the last camera. The tiny lens reflected back his own image.
"Yuki!"
Yuki stopped and turned. "What?"
Instead of answering, Haru giggled and leaped forwards, wrapping his skinny arms around his friend in a playful hug. "Yuki! Yuki Yuki Yuki!"
Rolling his eyes, Yuki tried to pry the smaller boy off him. "Get off, Haru. You shouldn't jump on people like that…"
Haru grinned. "Okay! I won't jump on people like that," he replied, wrapping his arms tighter around Yuki.
"You're stepping on my feet," Yuki muttered.
"Yes!"
Yuki rolled his eyes again. "That's not what I meant. Can you please get off my feet?"
After a few minutes of pushing and Haru trying to spin them in circles, they stood facing each other in front of the house. Both their uniforms were rumpled and Yuki's hair was sticking up everywhere.
"Yuki!" Haru exclaimed.
"What?"
"What's this do?"
The expression on Yuki's face was one of sheer horror as Haru closed his eyes and leaned forwards. His head was tilted back, his pale lips parted slightly.
Yuki panicked and tripped, just managing to avoid the kiss. Blushing uncontrollably, he remained sprawled out on the grass and looking at anything but his roommate.
Blinking down at him, Haru tilted his head and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"
Before Yuki could respond, Akira paused the video.
His heart was pounding.
Perhaps this was another of the alien's integration methods. By adopting a nonthreatening exterior, JF1 was able to navigate easily through Enoshima and socialize with the civilians. Further manipulation was definitely not out of the question.
The possibility of JF1 using unorthodox methods of persuasion was extremely high. By using water, JF1 was able to assert direct control over individuals, but these individuals had difficulty remembering the encounter. Considering JF1's relationship with 'Yuki', it was possible that he was attempting to create an emotional connection. This connection could be deepened and manipulated by JF1. The matter required further investigation.
"Are you okay?"
It was rare for anyone to approach him, especially outside of the school. The wharf had been deserted when he arrived, the thick clouds overhead threatening rain and rough weather for the fishermen. Yuki was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. He didn't have his rod with him.
"Why are you asking me this?" Akira replied. Considering Yuki's anxiety issues and social awkwardness, his question seemed very strange. Or rather, his forwardness seemed very strange.
Not meeting his eyes, Yuki quietly muttered, "You've been spaced out recently, like in class. I… I know we're not very close or anything like that, but I just thought that maybe…"
"Maybe what?"
Yuki flinched. Akira knew he wasn't being all that polite, but did it really matter? This boy was a mess of nerves no matter the situation.
"I…dunno. Maybe you wanted to talk or something?"Inhaling sharply, Yuki glanced at him through his messy bangs. He was practically cowering.
"I've been tired recently. That's it," Akira said.
Yuki frowned, but didn't say anything.
The silence was excruciatingly awkward.
"Um. Are you enjoying the weather?"
Actually, the silence was only half as awkward as Yuki's pitiful attempt at conversation. Akira decided to ignore him entirely.
Yuki stood and fidgeted for awhile, his expression changing from calm to nervous and back again. Running a hand through his messy hair, he turned to leave but then stopped suddenly. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and on the same sight Akira's were.
"Is that…?"
Haru.
Haru knee-deep in the water and staring out at the horizon. His hands were tightly clasped behind his back. The wind pulled at his hair and clothes.
Cursing loudly, Yuki ran past Akira, jumped off the wharf, and darted across the sand towards Haru. Something he said made Haru turn around, the wind catching his hair. He looked like such a timid, fragile thing, like a precious sculpture about to fall and shatter. 19 cameras were on him now, preserving every angle and every movement of his.
Grabbing his thin, pale wrist, Yuki pulled him back onto the sand. The worry was evident in his voice, although Akira couldn't catch the words from where he was standing. Haru was oddly still, letting Yuki yell and pace and yell some more. After a long pause, Haru turned and left Yuki standing alone on the beach.
Yuki kicked a small rock and watched it sink into the water.
For some reason, Akira couldn't walk away. It seems that he had a heart after all.
Sighing, he slid off the wharf and slowly approached Yuki, the boy's shoulders rigid and tense. His head was bowed.
Stopping a couple of feet away, Akira crossed his arms and waited.
"He makes me so angry sometimes," Yuki admitted quietly, his hands curling into fists, "but I could never hate him."
"Why don't you tell him that?"
"I did," Yuki snapped, staring out at the water. The waves were high and crested with white caps further out. Only a few boats had braved the harsh conditions and they bobbed unsteadily.
Slowly, Yuki turned to face him.
"Can I ask you something?"
He narrowed his eyes. This situation had become unpredictable, but Yuki did look serious. Deciding to humor him, Akira nodded.
"I try my best to look out for Haru, but he's… Well, he's Haru. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind looking out for him too."
It took all of Akira's disciplinary training to keep the grin off his face.