The earlier chapters were funny (well, parts of them). Humor will return to this story—because life is funny at the most inopportune moments.
This isn't a real chapter; it's an intermission of sorts. I wrote it as a Thanksgiving present, because I am thankful for my readership. You brighten many a dark day. Truly. As such, I hope these paltry paragraphs brighten your day.
PS: Ever wonder what drug-addled, terribly exhausted, and all manner of pissed Akari looks like? Wonder no more, friends.
The Assistant District Attorney made an inch by inch recovery. He'd eventually been freed of his chest tube, repaired lung finally strong enough to remain inflated without aid. He'd never be freed of the scar traversing his fine skin, though. The bruise that circled it was a mottled assortment of purplish and greenish hues, and after over a week in the hospital, it still covered nearly a third of Akari's chest. The mere sight made Hirato's vision go red. Yet he remained ever watchful, rhinestone eyes unblinking from beyond glass doors each time the medical staff returned to change the blond's dressings or perform another battery of tests. It's the least I deserve, he thought savagely, to see precisely how much damage I've done.
Life rarely yielded certainties, even for an uncommonly gifted and exceedingly charismatic man like the brilliant, inky-haired defense attorney. But he was certain no amount of Akari's forbearance would induce him to forgive himself.
Although assuaging his guilt might prove impossible, slaking his thirst for revenge, however, was well within his reach.
In service of that particular end, he'd adopted a terribly busy schedule. In the early mornings, he'd work at the office, meeting with his many clients or reviewing briefs with his team of paralegals. It was imperative to put on a convincing show for Azana, after all. Losing the winning edge now might prompt the skittish Deputy Mayor to seek counsel elsewhere—an unacceptable outcome.
Evenings were always spent at the hospital, whether or not Akari sought (or wanted) his company.
For a self-described curmudgeon, the prosecutor was awfully popular. One afternoon, Hirato returned to the Medical Center with Mexicana in tow only to find his lover's room occupied by Gareki, Yogi, Eva, and Jiki. He guessed tonight was the night Jiki and Eva would reveal to Akari the plans for his safe-keeping.
Roguery twisted the brunet's mouth as he imagined the blond's reaction. This should be interesting.
He sauntered in, commanding attention immediately. Instead of greeting the assembled persons, he addressed Akari. "I brought your favorite," he said holding up the cup of designer cocoa. "Mexicana from the Med. So do be nice, okay?"
"That's your favorite. And you promised to stay away today if I was nice to you yesterday." That frustrated voice was beginning to regain its former authoritativeness, prompting Hirato to smile more broadly.
He snickered softly as he caught sight of Eva's incredulous eyes leveling on him. Her expression was decipherable without difficulty: I told you this wouldn't work.
"Fine," he said, taking an indulgent sip. "More for me."
Akari huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, gaze sharpened in annoyance.
"What's the occasion for the party?" Hirato asked the group.
Jiki spoke first, voice clipped and grave like the police inspector that he was. "Eva and I just arrived. We're here to talk to Assistant District Attorney Dezart about his personal safety once he's discharged."
The prosecutor's hands went up in exasperation. "First of all, you don't answer to Hirato. He's not my keeper. Secondly, I will be perfectly safe—"
"—if you say "at home", you're definitely not the dazzling intellect you're rumored to be," Akari's not-keeper interjected, knowing exactly what the prone man was about to say.
"No one asked you for your protozoan opinion, thank you," the blond continued without missing a beat. "What I was going to say is that I'd be fine at home with a police escort."
A chuckle from a supremely-entertained brunet intimated that the request for a police escort was made in direct response to Hirato's questioning of the other's intelligence. If at all possible, Akari grew more nettled than previously.
"We would prefer that you make other arrangements, sir. Your home address is well-known to locals and far too vulnerable. Alternatively, we can place you in temporary police custody," Jiki informed officiously, completely ignoring his interlocutor's threatening glare. "So please cooperate."
In the ensuing quiet, Yogi swallowed thickly, lavender orbs dancing nervously between his supervisor and the inspector. "Y-y-you can stay with me," the young attorney offered, clearly hoping he'd be declined. Incapacitated or no, Akari's gift for inspiring fear amongst his subordinates was fully intact.
"Or me," Gareki added. "If you don't mind living in a shoebox."
Only Hirato would have noticed, because only he was observing the bed-ridden blond so keenly, but Akari was rather moved by the overtures. Crystalline eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment the crease between his brows softened. "I appreciate it, but I'd rather not inconvenience you to such a degree."
"Inconvenience me then," Hirato said, causing Yogi's jaw to drop and Eva's mouth to twitch. "Surely upsetting my day-to-day activities wouldn't weigh too heavily on your conscience."
"Hell no," the Assistant DA refused flatly, atypical coarseness leaving no room for negotiation.
It was Eva's turn to speak. "Actually, Jiki and I are the ones who suggested it to Hirato. We felt you'd be safest where no one would think to look for you. He's got plenty of space and you wouldn't be there long."
"Do I look the fool?" Akari inquired, sarcasm dripping from each droll syllable. "This has all the makings of one of Hirato's schemes."
"Akari..." Eva placated before being cut off by Hirato.
"What on earth would I gain by entertaining such a disagreeable houseguest?"
"Oh, please. We both know what you're up to," Akari spat.
"Do we?" Of course we do. The brunet might have keeled over in giddy delight if he weren't playing a role. Naturally, the both of them were acutely aware of Hirato's designs (the lustful ones, anyway)—he'd made to take the blond atop his own workspace only the other day. How much of that little interlude the DA would deem fit to divulge remained to be seen. Would the other man reveal the fact that sexual tension (at minimum) still obtained between them? Or would he evade? Your move, Akari.
"Listen, Eva." The patient turned his attention to his erstwhile pupil. "I know you're trying to protect me, but staying at Hirato's will be ineffectual on that score."
"Why?" Jiki asked, an expression of perfect confusion twisting his striking features. "It sounds pretty effective to me."
Akari pinched the bridge of his nose, ostensibly at his wit's end, and far too drained to equivocate further, even before an audience. "Because he's trying to fuck me," he ultimately growled, startling the police officer and sending Hirato into a round of mocking giggles.
"Oh, you poor, poor man," Hirato said between forced laughs, "Naivety does not become you in the least." He strode over to the DA and leaned close, lips barely brushing the shell of an ear. Long fingers tightened on the bedrail as Akari bit down the resultant gasp. When the brunet spoke, however, it was loud enough for all present parties to apprehend. "Do you suppose there are many in your circle of acquaintances who aren't trying to fuck you?" He tittered again, pointedly allowing warm breath to ghost along now-flushed skin. "Well, except for Yogi," he conceded, voice a bit louder now, unwavering eyes fixed on the jittery youth in question—an unmistakable warning. "Unfortunately for him, he seems intent on my brother."
"Hirato!" Gareki's yell punctuated the hushed murmurs following that divulgence. "Cut that older brother shit out. You suck at it."
"Am I mistaken, Yogi?" the lawyer lilted, truly pleased that he'd so easily upset everyone in the room. Yogi merely shifted uncertainly from foot to foot and averted his eyes, at a total loss for how to answer the question. To reply in the affirmative would stoke Hirato's wrath; to do so negatively would offend Gareki.
"Enough!" Akari's icy rebuke sliced through the expectant silence. The presence of vulgarities on his ex-lover's lips was sending a trill through him, and he loathed himself for it. Couple that with the way Hirato enunciated the word 'fuck'—like he was mentally engaging in the very act—and it was no surprise that Akari went scarlet. "Not everyone is a shameless lecher," he managed after a few measured breaths.
Hirato's coup de grâce had been planned a week in advance, pitch-perfectly calibrated to appeal to all the DA's salient proclivities—love of challenge, hatred of weakness (especially in himself), self-disgust for desiring Hirato, and perhaps a repugnance of Hirato more generally. "Maybe you're right. Even so, I'm left with the rather fascinating conclusion that you're refusing the most reasonable course of action because you fear being unable to resist my charms." A Cheshire grin wormed its way across his lips. "Have I got the gist of it, Akari?"
Akari assented to the suggested accomodations with little resistance after that.
NB: Please bear in mind that I know nothing about police work, the legal system, or anything of the sort. This story is for entertainment purposes only (although I am always thankful if you correct my many missteps and misunderstandings).
