Midorima woke up with a bitter, morning taste in his mouth and the distinct, nagging feeling of something amiss that tied a knot in the back of his neck. He scowled at the ceiling and worked the kinks out of his neck enough to look around groggily. A head of brilliant red hair was lying close to his shoulder, and it lifted and gave him a tired smile and leaned up toward him for a kiss.

Midorima could not shove his hand into the head's face quickly enough. "Why are you sleeping on my bed?"

The eyes were wide and a little starstruck looking back at him, and Midorima almost relented because they were so innocent - almost deviously so. "Your spare futon didn't feel good on my back," Akashi's brother mumbled against Midorima's palm, breath warm. "And your bed is certainly big enough, isn't it?"

"You're not allowed to sleep with me."

"Why not? My brother isn't anymore."

Midorima turned away in frustration and left the bed. "I need to get to the clinic now. Please don't go through my things while I'm gone."

"I'm not a freeloader!" Seijuro laughed. "I have no intention of staying in all day."

"What do you plan on doing?" Midorima asked, feeling a creeping sense of apprehension. Seijuro hopped off the bed and padded down the hallway, following him into the bathroom. In the mirror, it became more obvious to him that the shoulders of the shirt that Seijuro was wearing to bed was much too broad for him and he realized with a sinking stomach that Seijuro had probably gone through his drawers to find it. It surprised him a little that the look on Akashi had been painfully arousing, the sight of milky white thighs, but now he was taken with a distinct feeling of discomfort. He turned and grabbed at his shirt, almost making to take it off, before freezing.

"Lewd," Seijuro teased, offering no resistance. "I'm going to go out. Research."

"What are you going to do," Midorima ground out, still gripping the shirt's collar. "Don't you dare think of besmirching Akashi's honor with his face."

Seijuro looked at him, a blank almost artificial expression on his features. "You really do think of my brother first, don't you?" The grin that carved his mouth did not reach his eyes, dark and cryptic. "It's too bad that loyalty hasn't really worked out for you lately, isn't it?"

Midorima let go of him. "Get out of the bathroom," he sighed; it was not worth getting upset so early in the morning. "I need to take a shower."

Seijuro was still and for a moment, Midorima thought he might have gotten through to him - but a moment later, the redhead had slid up to him and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth and he stumbled backward into the sink in shock. "I'll make us coffee," Seijuro laughed, and closed the bathroom door behind him.

[=]

Midorima had lunch with Akashi at Akashi's insistence and understood from the way Akashi held him at a respectable distance that he ought to accept Akashi's treat without protest. It wouldn't do any good in either way - Akashi had the habit of wiring money into his account for any expensive gift he'd given the man and he doubted changing bank accounts was really going to deter the young master from what he wanted. "I'm sorry for getting you in this mess," Akashi began after they had ordered.

"It isn't your fault," Midorima said. "You couldn't have seen this coming."

"No," Akashi agreed. "But I could have done more about it." He sat, thinking, and Midorima wondered how many times Akashi had taken the same stance and thought of him. It was too romantic of a notion. "I'll come over tonight and make him leave. You don't deserve this sort of trouble."

"Wouldn't he become your trouble, then?" Midorima asked. "With your...wedding approaching. I could...keep him in check until then when...you'd presumably have more time on your hands." Akashi looked up at him with a second of unchecked affection before the look in his eyes cooled. "I can hold my own."

"I know." Their food arrived and Akashi switched subjects and asked polite pleasantries about the clinic and Midorima's clientele, to which Midorima countered with polite inquiries about Akashi's aging father and the family company. It was the lack of Akashi's lingering glances and his hesitation at pressing deeper in certain subjects that indicated any change from before. Still - Midorima fetched their coats from the coat check (the son of the cornerstone business of the Japanese economy did not just dine at any establishment) and helped ease the brown peacoat around Akashi's shoulders.

"Thank you," Akashi said, as they started down the narrow corridor to the door of the restaurant, both for the coat and his presence. Midorima said nothing and touched Akashi's elbow, almost medieval in his ways, and when Akashi turned, he eased down and pressed a light, slightly desperate kiss to his lips.

Akashi did not push him away; Midorima disengaged and Akashi had accepted it, a slight starstruck gleam in his eyes that Midorima had seen in Seijuro's eyes that morning - his lips slightly parted. Akashi closed his mouth and did not look up to meet Midorima's eyes. "That has to be the last time," Akashi murmured, shifting the weight on his feet before continuing toward the door.

[=]

Seijuro did not personally know many people in Tokyo, but he knew of friends of friends of friends, and he knew some people owed him big favors. The sound of his name might not invoke tremors, as he knew his father's might, but he was worth enough to be given his rightful attention. He made some phone calls and sent some emails and met with two stockbrokers in the span of three hours.

As expected, he would not get what he wanted immediately, but anything made quickly was not worth eating, in his experience.

He supposed, as he made his way through the streets a little more quick-footed than his brother might - Akashi Seijuro seemed to be the kind of man to take things slowly, as he'd always been - he ought to be more ashamed of himself, raised by such a family. But ever since the disownment, the only thing that really tied him to such a group was the name, and the Akashi name was never associated with superiorly high morals.

His father and his brother might be better at faking it, but Seijuro found no reason to hide it, especially if one produced favorable results. The world could use more honest men like himself. He was no criminal and had broken no laws, and if Japan honestly cared more to fill up the loopholes, perhaps he'd turn a new leaf, but until then, he'd do as he pleased.

Presently someone had grabbed his shoulder on the sidewalk and before turning, he ran through every possible scenario: 1) it was his father, seeing him and knowing the difference because his dutiful brother was in the office and this was the end, 2) it was his brother, who would undoubtedly interrogate him for his wanderings, 3) it was Shintarou, his brother's amusing ex-boyfriend who would still be full of the sexual frustration that had been present in his eyes since the first time he'd laid eyes on him, or 4) it was an old friend and all his old friends he did not want to see. But when he did eventually turn around, eyes wide with his best impression of his brother's endearing face, he did recognize the face.

"Atsushi," he said, painting on relief and recognition. "How nice to see you lately." This giant of a man was one of his brother's friends, and if his surveillance served him correctly, his brother tended to visit him during stressful business transactions; his brother had an unexpected sweet tooth.

"Akachin," Murasakibara Atsushi said. "You hadn't come by the store in such a long time that I thought you didn't want your order anymore."

His order? Seijuro had stopped keeping tabs on his brother and his friends for a few days. Still - he was an Akashi, and his deduction skills were second to none. "Ah yes. Well, things have been very hectic on my end. I have no further additions to make on the design of the wedding cake I've chosen, so there's not much to discuss about it, is there?"

Murasakibara's hand was still on his shoulder. Seijuro did not remember him being particularly touchy with his brother in the past. "Are you going into the office today, Akachin?"

"Of course. Today's a regular day, like always."

Murasakibara gave him a long look. "You usually don't dress like that to go to work, though." Seijuro looked down upon himself. He was by no means sloppily dressed, but his brother did make it a habit to do his office work in a fine suit. His slacks and tailored dress shirt - no man ought to make business meetings looking like a fool - were clearly several steps down from the usual.

"I did not feel the need to be fully formal today," Seijuro shrugged. The hand on his shoulder was becoming heavy and it was unnerving him slightly. "I have a luncheon soon with some of our staff and it wouldn't do to make a noticeable distinction between a superior and his employees, would it?"

Murasakibara stared at him again. "I lied, and so did you," he said finally. "I met with Akachin this morning to discuss the wedding cake. But you said you hadn't seen me about it at all since the initial planning. I thought you were weird even if you looked like Akachin. Who are you?"

If this trend of everyone noticing a difference between him and his brother, his acting skills were going to need serious improvement. He lowered his chin somewhat. "My name is Akashi Seijuro."

"No, stop lying. Who are you really, and why do you look so much like Akachin?"

Seijuro laughed. "I'm not lying. Honestly, my brother is so loved if he's even got you around his finger like he does Shintarou."

Murasakibara's expression darkened for a moment. "Brother? And what do you mean by that?"

"Frankly, I'm amazed that every man my brother comes into contact with wants to tumble into bed with him."

It took a moment for this to fully sink in, and Murasakibara let go of his shoulder in surprise. Seijuro backed away, calculating the range of those arms, and at an acceptable distance, looked back up and saw an almost schoolgirl expression on Murasakibara's face. "I never thought that about Akachin," he insisted, flushed at the insinuation. "Akachin is my precious friend and that's it. I never thought of…" There was unguarded sincerity in his face. And anyway, from what Seijuro knew about him, Murasakibara seemed more invested in his desserts than other people, in general. Such things were probably foreign concepts to him.

"I'm just teasing you," Seijuro soothed, coming forward. If anything, he was a wonderful animal trainer, and Murasakibara's allegiance could possibly be important. "Don't be mad at me." He was not short in any definition of the term, but Murasakibara's frame was something he fit in snugly with a little bit of room. He wondered if his brother had noticed how perfect of a space it was against the wind or as a shield from aggressors. Though - Midorima certainly served as his brother's white knight, in any case. He brought his hands up and pinched Murasakibara's cheeks.

The gesture was strange, Seijuro knew, because Murasakibara flinched. There was a quiet sort of awe, before sense returned and it was not Akachin who had done it but his previously unmentioned brother. "Who are you?" Murasakibara asked again.

"I already told you," Seijuro said, taking a polite step back. "My name is Akashi Seijuro."

[=]

Midorima was methodically cleaning the apartment when Seijuro returned. Midorima spared him not a single word and only motioned with his head to move his feet. Seijuro hopped out of the way and bounded over to settle on top of the kitchen counter, watching as Midorima mopped at the floor. There was a slight smell of dust in the air, and the vacuum in the corner looked freshly used. Seijuro had only seen this event once enough to understand; Midorima cleaned with fervor when he was upset.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Midorima's voice was curt, but hardly distanced enough to be persuasive. Seijuro kicked off his shoes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and got his feet wet as he walked over to Midorima.

"Don't try and trick me. You'll never be able to do that."

Midorima's jaw set. "Don't say that."

"Why? Because my brother said that a lot? Or words to that effect?" Seijuro watched as Midorima's shoulders tensed. He was not going to dodge the bullet as his brother liked to do. But he was sure Midorima understood there was a difference, a distinction. "Did you see him today?"

Midorima was swiping wet lines over and over in the same space. "Yes," he grounded out, and Seijuro deducted his mental state was frayed if he was willing to be honest without too much goading. "Is this something your family is good at? This whole thing about forgetting and pretending nothing happened?"

Seijuro blinked. "That sounds like my brother."

"I know I'm being immature. I know the high road to take. There's nothing I can do about this marriage." Seijuro heard the implication. Why does he insist on acting as if doing this is easy?

Seijuro spun him around on his heels and kissed him. Midorima froze, and after a moment, he resisted, twisting under Seijuro's hands. "Why did you do that?" he hissed, when Seijuro broke away.

"Just this once. I look like my brother, don't I?"

Midorima's eyes widened. "I am not using you as his substitute. That's offensive, both to him and to you."

"I'll let you. I don't mind." Seijuro kissed him again, and though Midorima was not reciprocating, he was no longer struggling. He slid his hands up Midorima's neck, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly in his hair. "Come on," he urged, seeing Midorima look troubled at his eyes. "Forget about my eyes. I'm Akashi Seijuro. You want me, don't you?"

Midorima frowned, and his irises darkened, and Seijuro waited; he was a patient man and these things needed time, no pushing. It did not take the wind to remove the jacket, after all. Then - "I do," Midorima murmured, and it was almost a low growl and it sank to the bottom of Seijuro's stomach. "I want you very much."

"Alright," Seijuro purred. "Take me, then."

Midorima had another brief moment of hesitation when they were on his bed, Midorima kissing a trail down to Seijuro's collarbone and Seijuro was halfway out of his pants. "This isn't right," he mumbled. Seijuro brought his leg up between Midorima's legs and nudged and found him still hard.

"Close your eyes if it offends you," Seijuro offered. "I'll cry out for you."

So Midorima took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut and Seijuro guided him along, but there was really no need to do so because it came almost naturally for Midorima. Midorima was kissing at a spot beneath his ear for enough time that Seijuro figured it had been a sweet spot for his brother and offered a satisfied hum although it was nothing special. Midorima was very much absorbed and Seijuro found himself thinking stray thoughts, almost laughing at the way he had lay back and thought of mother Japan, so to speak. He was not very charitable, and this was very much out of his nature to be generous to a desperate man.

He was bored, he concluded, and Midorima was very good with his fingers. Some of the sounds that escaped him were not forced. He was bored because things were going to plan - and they would continue going to plan - and he needed something on the side to intrigue him. Midorima was a character, he decided, but ultimately not really to his liking; the intense, obtuse loyalty was suffocating and only really necessary for someone who needed to be reminded they were loved. It was almost ironic, he thought, that for someone who was always surrounded by others who pampered him since birth, his brother would need that sort of thing.

When they finished the whole messy, sticky affair, Seijuro felt adequately satiated and Midorima was trembling. "I'll take the spare futon," he mumbled, pushing on his glasses and stepped awkwardly out of the room.

Seijuro reached for his phone and thumbed a message to his brother, you'll never guess what I just did, but deleted it and fell asleep.