A/N: So it is probably the worst idea ever to watch all of Tokyo Majin and two seasons of Axis Powers Hetalia in one weekend. That's probably where this came from, and now I've gotten it out of my brain. :D Set before the end of the series, uh, obv. I think it kind of ends weakly but it was a good break from the Big Project I am working on.
He thought he'd known the signs.
It was pretty easy to figure out, usually. A sideways glance, a half-smile. But that's all Tatsuma was. His big, open face was as easy to read as a book, so long as you only read the words he wanted you to see. Underneath was a guy nobody knew, not really, hidden so deeply it was like a coin in the muck at the bottom of a wishing pond. He was all goodwill, and kindness, and endless patience. He wrote to his mother and he ate healthily and he trained early in the morning. He took saving lives seriously, but he never showed the strain.
Kyoichi knew it, from the afternoons they spent talking about nothing, where he did all the talking and Tatsuma did all the listening and at the end he felt a little like an asshole, but a little like Tatsuma was having a good time anyway. He'd found things out about Tatsuma that he was pretty sure none of the others knew. Like how he could cross his little toe over the next one, or that he knew how to ask where the bathroom was in almost every language that had ever been invented, and probably some that hadn't. And Tatsuma knew things about him that he'd never tell anyone on purpose, little things he'd found out, like how to make him laugh so hard he started to hiccup, and his voice broke like it did when he was a little kid.
A guy like Tatsuma could really piss a man off. Someone who didn't know him well enough would think that the kindness in his expression was an act. That he talked Ghandi but walked Jackie Chan, that he only said the things he did to get under Aoi's skirt. That his under his forgiveness was a guy who laughed at how weak you were, at your mistakes and your stupidity. Tatsuma was a hard guy to open up to, harder than anyone else, because nobody could be that nonjudgmental.
But Kyoichi had. Because nobody was. Somewhere down there was a guy like him, who'd been a kid, and who got scared and pissed off and frustrated, who tried to be good because otherwise he felt guilty, who got morning wood, who got hungry, who got cavities and colds and knew what it felt like to cry so hard he puked.
He thought he'd known what he needed to. Growing up with the girls had taught him a lot about what it meant to be so quiet you were loud when you wanted something. Angie could break a man down in half a minute, lean him into her arms and have him crying or laughing, looking like he'd lost some great weight. He'd seen that change on Tatsuma when they talked, sometimes. When he told stories about what he was like in middle school, or when he came up with the most ridiculous, disgusting jokes he could think of just to put Tatsuma off his ramen. The thought had crossed his mind that he hadn't gotten to the coin yet, that Tatsuma was faking so he'd leave him alone, but. But whenever he left, Tatsuma tagged along, always one of them following the other.
Tatsuma had followed him right back to his apartment, the tiny place he slept in and kept his clothes, had followed him until Kyoichi had slammed him up against the wall. Had held his shoulders loosely, while Kyoichi caught the back of his head, curled fingers in his hair, kissed his throat. He hadn't even gasped when Kyoichi got his knee between Tatsuma's, had just leaned against the wall and let him, saying his name over and over. Over and over, without passion, without volume, just simply. Like he was trying to get his attention across a classroom, or like he wanted him to notice something.
Kyoichi growled and pushed himself away, trying not to shake.
"You lose your nerve, Tatsuma?" he asked roughly, almost ready to spit when Tatsuma smiled.
He said, "No, have you?"
Kyoichi blinked. Then curled his hands into fists. "Don't jerk me around!"
Tatsuma's smile remained, small and a little sad. He took a step forward, and caught one of Kyoichi's wrists. "I'm not. Honestly, I'm not."
Kyoichi thought oh no but didn't say it, not even when Tatsuma's fingertips found his collarbone, not when they curled around the back of his neck and pulled him down slowly. Not when Tatsuma closed his eyes, not when their lips touched. But he knew he'd been a coward, as he sank down into Tatsuma and kissed him like he meant it.
It was soft, and deep, and ended reluctantly. He felt Tatsuma's tongue and Tatsuma's teeth dragging over his lower lip, breaking open a split the Monster of the Week had made.
He opened his eyes again when Tatsuma sighed. He tasted copper, saw the flash of Tatsuma's smile, with teeth this time. His lip hurt.
"Son of a-" he began, and stopped. It hit him that he'd reached the bottom of the well. He'd found the wishing coin and Tatsuma wasn't taking it back.
Tatsuma rubbed the small of his back. "Did you lose your nerve?" he asked, so softly.
Somehow, Kyoichi found it in himself to smile. He knew a challenge when he heard it, and he'd never once stood down. He'd never been challenged by anyone as tough as Tatsuma, but he got the feeling if he fucked up he'd never get a second chance. Everything in Tatsuma was daring him to prove it. He put their foreheads together, said, "Shut up, you idiot," felt Tatsuma's shoulders tense just a fraction. But when he kissed him again, softly, honestly, they relaxed. He'd gotten permission, and he'd keep it for as long as Tatsuma let him.