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Akira wakes to the sound of voices next door. Rumbustious and inconsiderate. Dim yellow glaze blinking over his windowsill told him it was far too early in the morning to be woken up. Curling both body and pillow over his head, he drifts back to sleep. Work not starting until later in the afternoon, he still had time to lounge…
"am not going-! "
A door slams and fists pound.
Whipping back his duvet Akira's bare feet drum on the ground all the way across the room and outside. Floorboards and ceiling of the apartment downstairs splintering in a spiderweb of cracks.
Strength questionable, the door to his apartment blows open from his slap.
"Oi oi oi!" He shouts. Eyes shimmering red at the group of banker-looking people crowing outside Aizawa's apartment. "Shut your Goddamn yammering. People are trying to sleep."
"Gracious!" The eldest flubbers. Next to him the woman yelps and buries her head against his back. The younger man's expression, the one banging on Aizawa's door, could have been carved from stone. "I apologise for our rudeness," he says sharply, "however young man there is a lady present -"
"I didn't swear, you old coot." He says, bending properly to meet his eyes.
"But you are naked," the young man points. Eyebrow raised.
"And I suppose you civilised people sleep fully clothed, eh?" He scorns.
"Well," the old man rumbles, "yes!"
"Akira!" Out from his door, pops Aizawa's head. Bloodshot eyes googling beneath rumpled hair.
Unlike these civilised people, he was not shocked to see Akira's glorious figure. As much as it surely pained him to admit (which he never shall).
"I'll deal with this. Get back inside."
Akira rose to his full height of a doorway, considering the bankers that chose to stare down his neighbour. Jaws clenching, fists fisting. Yeah. They weren't bankers, they were something else.
"You sure, Aizawa? I could take'em."
Both young and old men both met him with a scoff - which turned into a hackle when they had to look up. Meeting his prickling eyes.
Regaining his footing, the older man turns dour. "You have any idea who we are, boy?"
"Do tell," Akira smiles. Licking his canines, "I like to know the name of my meat suppliers."
"Akira," Aizawa shouts again, voice tightly wound "get inside."
"Not if they're goin' to mess with you." Aizawa groans. "I'm frustratingly loyal that way. Deal with it." Surprisingly, the group falters.
"We aren't here for Aizawa," the girl meeps. Still studiously avoiding him. Akira gives himself a once-over, finding nothing bad to look at at all. Maybe she didn't swing that way he concludes with a fair shrug. "We're here for my cousin."
"Stuffy looking guy? Virgin sweater-vests - 'bout yay-high?" He props a hand at ear-level, earning hesitant nods in reply.
"Crudely put, but yes," the old man says. Lip upturned. "That would be my son, Tensei."
"There you have it," Aizawa eagerly shouts. Hand appearing behind the door in swooping motions. "Now get back inside before someone see's you and calls the cops again."
Gesturing he had his eyes on them, Akira backs into his apartment. Pulling his injured door up by its crook on the hinges and closes it in one swooping bang.
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Akira's first dreary shift as a barista swings by in four hours. The uniforms they supplied failed to figure in his suitable size. That being demonic. He doesn't blush at making do with a black turtleneck shirt - snugger than a choke hold.
Many blush.
Office workers come in, in droves during lunchtime. All from Iida Corporation. ID badges with the corporate emblem swinging around their necks. Ladies and gentlemen go red when he takes their orders and he can feel their eyes on him as he goes about brewing the coffee and steaming their milk.
The demon in him rears at the lustful attention. Drinking it in with a parching thirst. Akira can't help but wade into his natural element. Wily flirting back with the smile of a predatory angel. Accepting underhanded phone numbers he'll never use and names he'll surely forget.
4pm hits and his shift is clocked out. Back into casual clothes, Akira is a step out of the cafe when a lumbering form drops off the cafe's roof. He stares at the virgin sweater guy. Swimmers' build taking up half the sidewalk. Duffle bag bulging. Some random civilians flinch when he lands, shock lasting two seconds before going about their business muttering 'heroes' under their scorned breathes. Virgin flushes and apologises in a 360 degree circle before turning to him, pretty face demanding.
"May I join you?" He asks.
Akira cocks his head. Licking his lips at the scent of anxiety and sweat. "Sure, why not."
"Thank you, Fudo," he bows. Moving at a quick pace that Akira easily matches with long strides. Fists in pockets, he bends forward to eye the man's constipated expression. Sparkling eyes meeting his, "Yes?"
"Nothing," he reclines back into his usual slouch, easy-going smirk jabbing the virgin's anxiety, "it just seemed as though you were waiting for me."
The man's eyes swirl away, coughing, "Yes."
"Aizawa not around to walk you home?" He bites his lip, tears welling up in his eyes. Hands clasped innocently under his chin as he gets up into his personal space, "Scared some gang might accost you and your virgin sweater - argh!" Eyes flash red at the lumberjack hand shoving his face back. Straightening, he bares his teeth at the guy. Looking righteously displeased like a catholic overhearing someone swear their God.
"You should not joke about that sort of business."
Some part of Akira agreed - even for a demon that sin was ugly - the other part snarled feral at some small human telling him what he can and cannot do. Grinding his canines together, Akira swallows his bloodlust and ignores wanting to bite that hand off if it smacks him again.
"Aizawa is overcome with work," the guy adjusted the strap on his duffle bag. Appearing ignorant of Akira's bloody mood. "Besides, he wouldn't work as well as you in fending off my family." He gave a slight feral smile of his own. Akira arches both eyebrows. "They don't like you."
"Hah!" He barks.
"They're under the assumption that if they were to come into contact with you again, a scuffle would occur."
"Tch!" Akira scratches his head, eyes rolling at the dainty pride of some rich humans. "Some family got there - you're what, twenty something? - and they're tryin' to take away your independence?"
The meaty guy grimaces something personal, "It's complicated."
"Psch, my ass," he pats the large bicep with knowing intent, "want a bit of advice?"
"Not particularly, thank you."
"Do somethin' that'll really keep them off your back for good, even a couple months! Do somethin'," Akira licks his lips as sinful thoughts and actions ravage around his darkly lit mind, "Somethin' beyond redeeming - what do those stuffy conservative pricks fear most, ah!" He claps his hands, pleased to see Tensei giving his full, mournful, attention. "Join a cult. Get a girlfriend, boyfriend - become a pimp~"
"I should have known," Tensei sighs. Looking up into the sky rise buildings. "Maybe I'll take up smoking."
"Not the grandest move you could make, but I suppose you've gotta start small for a beginner," Akira kindly respects and brings out his own packet of cigarettes in offer.
"I don't smoke."
"And the virgin rears its ugly head," Akira mutters disgustedly as he lights his own cigarette.
"Shhhh!" Tensei slaps the air in between them. Snuffing the flame of his lighter. He looks madly around, "stop calling me that."
Akira snickers, flicking his lighter back on and inhaling the toxicity of his cigarette, "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck," he blows smoke in Tensei's face, smile vicious, "it's a duck." He pats the cheek of Tensei, admiring his harsh angle of the bone beneath beautiful unmarred skin. Thumb rubbing tentative circles, pointed nail itching to slice through it and see the bloody mess beneath.
Tensei slaps his hand away and stares in maddeningly tight frustration. Akira dances off, hands mocking surrender.
"Scared some tabloid reporter will milk a story out of it, church boy?"
"You use faith as an insult," Tensei says with some strange confusion, as though it weren't obvious Akira was the damnedest soul in this plane of existence and his Fatih was, indeed, a personal insult. Tid for tad. "That is remarkably dark aged of you, Fudo. I thought you were cooler than that."
Akira has to squint, sensing that this virgin was playing with him. "You're a super weird virgin."
"I'm working on it," Tensei suddenly perks with a smile and plucks his cigarette. Oh dear. Giving it an examining twirl between his fingers, the guy wraps his lips around it and gives the biggest, confident inhale only a stupid guy could make.
Akira spends the next few minutes gently whacking him on the back and waving away concerned by-passers.
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Tensei's still rubbing his chest when they're at the apartment complex. Ashen tone dimming his peachy complexion. Akira can't stop hiccuping giggles as they walk up the flight of stairs to the tippy top.
"Maybe I'll take up a caffeine addiction."
"Weak~" he sings over his shoulder.
"Anything's better than your schemes, Fudo," Tensei pouts, eyes twitching with brief internal calculations. Finally when they make it to their floor, he slaps a fist in a palm going "Fudo! I've got it."
"This'll be a laugh," he pauses unlocking his door.
"There's this club down in the red district. I'll just spend some nights there."
"Perchance….this isn't Bubble Butt you're talking about, is it?" Akira joyously asks. Bubble Butt was a rather infamous club the gays populate from dusk till dawn. It had originally been a normal unhinged club - but then the gays took over and thus sprouted a rainbow infested zazzy-pazzy sparkly-fuckly palace of weirdos.
Akira also happened to be a frequent visitor.
"Uh, yes." Tensei cocks his head. Looking far too birdbrained and hopeful to Be-In-The-Know. Akira internally throws back his head and cackles. "Do you know of it?"
"Oh, well," Akira mumbles and unlocks his door. Lip trembling. "I've been there once or twice."
"Good," Tensei is jolly, "it must be a boring place if you've only been there that many times. That's good," he seems to work himself into believing this idea of his will be the best yet.
"Hey, you don't plan on…killing time doing paperwork in this club, are you?" Akira recalls Shouta doing the exact same in their meetup corner shop time to time. Tensei shrugs. "Hah!" He barks in his face and leaves Tensei out in the cool hallway. Apartment door slamming shut on his chuckles.
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Thoughts? feelings~?