And I present to you, Melofee, the special chapter you ordered. All shenanigans and no angst with all the AsaHiyo bickering you could ever ask for (though honestly, they could go on for days). I hope it is to your liking. Proceed and enjoy.

Bonus chapter set after the events of When We Don't Have to Say Goodbye.

"It's Blue Mosque."

"No, it's Adriatic Sea."

"Dude, are you fucking blind? It's clearly the same color as this one. You need a new fucking prescription."

"And you need a new memory bank, apparently. I vividly remember us all agreeing on Adriatic Sea the first time."

"That one's way darker than this one, you can't even compare them like that."

"Asahi, this is the same color, I'm telling you. We literally bought like thirty gallons of this stuff."

"Where are the cans?" Asahi tossed the paint swatch over his shoulder for Hiyori to catch before it fluttered to the floor. He marched off toward the nearest supply closet with stiff shoulders.

Hiyori sighed, and Asahi could hear him rolling his eyes in it. "We used them all up. I told you we should have ordered extra."

"You're telling me we didn't keep one empty can?" Asahi said, yanking the door open and squinting inside.

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you. Because you insisted that we weren't going to need it anymore and it was, quote, 'a waste of space.'"

"I don't remember that."

"Of course you don't. You have the memory of a chimpanzee."

"I will throttle you," Asahi said, pointing a threatening finger at Hiyori's flat expression. "The next person to compare me to a fucking monkey is gonna get their head shoved up their own ass."

He slammed the closet door and stomped toward the lobby this time, again with Hiyori breathing behind him.

"We have clients in the building."

"And what of it?"

"And you're the CEO of an established business stomping around throwing curses at the wall. That's what. Can you please control your hair?"

"I- …" Asahi sputtered over himself, trying to get the bubble of frustration to come out with some kind of accuracy, but he failed and growled through his teeth instead, fists balled by his sides. "Whatever. Get away from me," he hissed, waving Hiyori away.

"Great. I'll tell Kato-san Adriatic Sea then."

"It's Blue Mosque, you piece of shit. Hello, Kiyama-san, welcome back," he exclaimed, putting on a cheesing smile the moment they turned the corner to Mrs. Kiyama checking in at the front desk. Hiyori made an irritating noise in the background, and Asahi refrained from stomping on his foot.

Mrs. Kiyama passed Asahi a wise smile, crows feet wrinkling by her eyes. "I heard that, young man. The bird with the foul tongue always eats bitter worms."

"Of course it does, Kiyama-san. Enjoy your visit, alright? Naomi should be ready for you once you're all set," he said, sending the old woman on her way with a gentle hand to her back.

She twittered and waved to Hiyori as she ventured through the glass doors toward the women's changing rooms.

"Have a good swim!" Ran called after her from behind the reception desk. Once the doors swung shut, she turned a sly look to Asahi out of the corner of her eye, lips turning up into a grin.

He crossed his arms. "What?"

She pulled a glass jar out from underneath the counter and planted it on top, pushing it toward him. His nemesis — the "Asahi got caught cussing by yet another client" jar. He sucked his teeth with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and dug in his pocket for a coin, which he dropped through the slot with an attitude.

"Hiyori should have to put something in too."

"Those aren't the rules." Ran shrugged. The phone rang exactly then and she picked it up without missing a beat. "Thank you for calling The Anchor Rehabilitation Center, this is Ran. How may I help you?"

"That's bullshit," Asahi whispered, leaning over the desk.

She tapped the jar with another smile.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, sir?"

Asahi snapped his gaze to the side as Kisumi slid up from behind him in sky blue scrubs. He didn't look back at Asahi, but he was smiling to himself as he slipped an arm around Asahi's waist and signed himself in. Asahi pinched his lips and shot his gaze back to Makoto's sister.

"He doesn't count."

"Mmhm … Yes, alright then. I have you rescheduled for Thursday at four this week. And we'll keep next week the same … Uh huh … Okay, Suzuki-san, we look forward to seeing you soon. Enjoy the rest of your day … Kisumi-san, utilizes our services just like everyone else does."

"Except he doesn't pay us."

"His time slots are booked in the same system. He's a client if I ever saw one."

Kisumi chuckled and dropped a yen in the jar. "It's okay, Ran. This one's on me." He gave Asahi a peck on the jaw.

"I thought you weren't off until eight."

"Satomi has her kids this week, so she asked to switch."

Asahi immediately pouted. "You're on night shift?"

"I'm going in at six."

Asahi groaned in protest, even as Kisumi slipped him a kiss on the lips. "That's no fair," he whined.

"I know, baby. You'll be okay." He gave Asahi a consoling pat on the butt.

"Will not. I'll just be waiting up for you all night. I'll never sleep."

"I'll call you on my break."

"Not good enough."

"You don't know that." He winked with a mischievous smirk that forced Asahi to actually lift a grin back.

"Babe," he said under his breath, wrapping an arm around him and nuzzling his cheek. "There are children in the room."

"I just turned twenty," Ran announced, gazing straight up at them.

Kisumi gasped, and leaned away to whip his head around to her with wide eyes. "You did not."

"Irregardless," Hiyori spoke up, appearing suddenly to nudge Kisumi and Asahi apart with his foot. "This is still our professional place of business, and once again, Asahi, you are 'supposed' to be one of the people running it."

"And thus, I get to do whatever I want."

"Not while I'm here." Hiyori smiled with his teeth, then turned his gaze to Kisumi and stuck his arm out with the two paint swatches that he and Asahi had been arguing about since 8AM. "Please tell this baboon that the color on the walls is Adriatic Sea."

"BLUE FUCKING MOSQUE! Do you want your head to go up your ass?"

Kisumi pursed his lips, eyeing the swatches he'd taken into each hand. "Mmm, Asahi …"

"Don't you fucking say it. I will die on the Mosque hill!"

"Do you not have receipts or something?"

"We painted the walls over a year ago."

"And surely one of you is responsible enough to keep up with that kind of stuff," Kisumi said, handing the swatches back to Hiyori.

"That would be Makoto," he said, pushing up his glasses.

"Well, get him on the fucking phone then," Asahi demanded.

"They just got on a ten-hour flight like twenty minutes ago," Ran said.

He propped his hands on his hips. "Well who the hell gave him permission to go on vacation anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure he gets to go on as many vacations as he wants to," Hiyori said, just as Kisumi swatted Asahi in the arm.

"It's Haru's birthday. Christ, let them have fun, Asahi. You can survive without him for a week. You have Hiyori."

"Oh joy," Asahi spat sarcastically. "Somebody wake me when the nightmare's over."

"I'm getting in the flotation tank before you make me late for work," Kisumi said, rolling his eyes with a smile as he turned away.

"Save me!"

"I love you!"

He disappeared behind the doors. Asahi snatched the swatches from Hiyori and stuck them out to Ran.

"Miss Twenty-Year-Old with the fresh eyes. You're certainly not blind are you? Tell me what color it is, and if it's the right one, I'll give you a raise."

Hiyori scoffed.

Ran half rose out of her chair and peeked at the swatches, then at the walls, then back at the swatches. "Blue Mosque, you said?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Yeah, that looks like Blue Mosque to me."

"Suck it," Asahi said, snapping his head to Hiyori.

He calmly adjusted his glasses again. "You cannot bribe our employees into having your own way."

"Ran is part of the family. She has honest, level-headed opinions and I trust her."

"You're raising my pay by how much?"

"We'll discuss it later."

The door opened then and Ikuya strolled in with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Hiyori didn't hesitate a second.

"Ikuya —"

"We don't need him! It's already been decided." Asahi karate chopped Hiyori's arm down, and Ikuya raised an eyebrow at them as he sauntered up to the desk.

"Whatever it is, Hiyori's right."

"Fuck you," Asahi barked while Hiyori slid his eyes to him with a smirk.

"I love you too," Ikuya drawled, plopping down in a chair next to Ran and propping his heels on the desk as he leaned back comfortably. "Don't quote me on that though."

"What are you even doing here?" Asahi asked dryly, hands perched on his hips again. "I told you to quit loitering."

"And I told you, I paid for the chair, I get to sit in it."

"He heard my distress signal," Hiyori said.

"What, do you have an antenna sticking out of your ass?"

Ran snorted and hunched over the desk to giggle into her hands.

"Actually, I was just bored," Ikuya said, rocking on the back legs of the chair. "It gives me great joy to watch you two go down in flames when Makoto's not around."

"I really appreciate that," Hiyori said tonelessly, staring over the desk.

Ikuya smiled at him with half a chuckle. "I told you you were going to regret working with him."

"You've definitely got that backward," Asahi said.

"I don't regret it," Hiyori said peacefully with a shrug. "I just feel like our business would run a little smoother if we put Adriatic Sea on the walls … and if Asahi did something productive with his hair."

Asahi kicked him in the ankle.

"What the fuck is Adriatic Sea?"

"It's the wrong ass color, that's what it is!" Asahi exclaimed, slamming his palms on the front desk.

"Okay, Jesus." Ikuya said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Why are we painting the walls? Does she need a fresh coat already? It's only been a year."

Hiyori pursed his lips with his arms crossed over his chest and turned pointedly to Asahi. "Why do the walls need fresh paint, Asahi?"

Asahi scowled. He didn't respond, so Hiyori rolled his eyes and turned away, waving a hand for Ikuya to follow.

"Come look at what he did."

"I told you it wasn't my fucking fault!"

"I need another coin in my jar, Asahi-san," Ran said.

Eric, their foreign client, hobbled across the lobby in his knee brace and tossed Asahi a cheesing smile. Asahi puffed out a groaning sigh, dropped another yen in the jar, and then bowed to Eric before he turned away to walk after Hiyori and Ikuya.

"And over here you'll see the man-sized hole —"

"Holy shit, Asahi."

"It's hardly a scratch!"

"— where our totally not irresponsible founder —"

"It wasn't my fault!"

Hiyori sniffed and rolled his shoulders back. "I'm sorry. Would you like to tell the story then?" He tossed a humble gesture toward the wall, which in all reality was blemished with a triangular hole about the size of a basketball not too far above their heads.

Asahi did not respond. He instead pulled a Haru card and turned his head bitterly to the side, so Hiyori rolled his eyes with a shake of his head and perched his hands on his hips.

"Someone stumbled in during a bad trip at three in the morning over the weekend and decided that the refrigerator absolutely needed to be removed from the break room."

Ikuya raised an eyebrow at Asahi, and he could feel both of them peering down his blushing neck like he was a goddamn child.

"For shit's sake, Asahi. Whatever the hell Kisumi's slipping you from work, I'm pretty sure it's illegal."

Asahi scowled and snapped at them both. "I wasn't on a trip, I was high! It was weed goddammit, and I was hungry."

Ikuya was hardly stifling his laughter. "I don't buy that for a second. You know, food goes down better if you take it out of the fridge first. Also, why didn't you just —?"

"The details are not important."

Hiyori was looking at Asahi like a tired mother. "I'm pretty sure that's still illegal."

Asahi tilted his chin up haughtily. "Well fuck, I don't remember asking you."

"Anyway," Hiyori drawled, turning his eyes lazily back to the wall. "Now we have to get Kato-san to come in and patch it up, but he needs to know the paint color."

Ikuya's lips curled up in a smirk, still gazing heavily at Asahi's red skin. "Are you sure you're old enough to run a business?"

Asahi growled to himself and turned away from their taunting chuckles. "Fuck you. You guys are mean."

"Ahhh." Ikuya rushed up from behind him and gave his hair a vigorous ruffle. "Don't be like that, stupid. We're just yanking your tail."

"You're making it worse," Hiyori said, referring to the mussing up of Asahi's hair, which, in Asahi's own opinion was perfectly fine and hardly any different from how he usually kept it. But Hiyori, for whatever reason lately, had been feeling absolutely compelled to nag him about it.

"I quit," Asahi grumbled.

"You do not."

"Where's Makoto~?!" he howled toward the ceiling.

"He's on a plane!" Ran's voice shouted back.

"Will you stop screaming in the building," Hiyori complained. He huffed out a breath and raked his fingers through his bangs just to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. "Ikuya, please," he moaned.

"Can't help you," Ikuya said, raising his hands and stepping around Asahi to walk ahead of him. "Wouldn't want to if I could."

There was a great commotion, once they trundled back into the lobby. It was all a blur of frantic chaos for a moment, because eighty-seven-year-old Mr. Kono burst through the door from the right, wailing an old folk song at the top of his lungs as he hobbled stark naked toward the exit. Ran screamed in alarm and raised a folder over her eyes. Ikuya flinched back and turned away as though he'd been smacked in the face. And Naomi, who was supposed to be with Mrs. Kiyama, ran out frantically into the lobby with a towel.

"Whoa whoa!" Asahi exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"Kono-san, please come back! Your clothes, Kono-san!" Naomi was shouting.

"OH! Sōran … Even if I row four and a half meters / I couldn't get that girl's attention!"

"Oh! Sōran," Hiyori sang, taking the towel from Naomi and calmly wrapping it around Mr. Kono's waist. "A flighty seagull twitters in excitement / As it sees my bare skin glistening with ocean surf."

Mr. Kono quieted with a grin full of missing teeth. He patted Hiyori's cheeks. "Did you see Kiyama-san today? What a fox."

"She's a beautiful woman," Hiyori agreed, turning him gently around by the shoulders so that Naomi could usher him back out of the lobby.

"Give her my phone number," he said with a chuckle, walking away peacefully.

"We will set you up on a whole ass date with her, Kono-san," Asahi said, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. "Just please put your clothes on after you get out of the sauna."

"OH~! Sōran, sōran, sōran …!"

Mr. Kono's jolly singing echoed on even after the door shut behind him and Naomi. Everyone in the lobby huffed out a collective breath.

Asahi shuddered. "I never want to see that man's balls again."

"Like the rest of us want to?" Ikuya said.

"Ran, you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. Where's that little shit you call a brother? Ren! … REN!"

Ren came tumbling out of the bathroom in a rush with flushed cheeks, and scampered up the counter, halting with his chest puffed out at attention. "I was only gone for five seconds!"

Ran rolled her eyes at him. "You've been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes."

Asahi pursed his lips at him. "Either you were taking the world's biggest shit, or I should fire you. You're supposed to be with Kono-san."

Ren faltered, and the blush rose higher up his face.

"He was on the phone," Ran tattled.

"Nuh uh!" he protested, snapping a glare on his sister.

"He did the same thing yesterday."

"Again?" Asahi chided, wrinkling his nose at him. "It better not have been that girl from the- Oooh." He shook his head and wagged a finger at him. "You're lucky you're not my brother. Go do your job and take care of Kono-san like you're supposed to!" He threw that same finger toward the door Mr. Kono had disappeared behind. "If that man runs out here naked one more time, I'm gonna fight you!"

Ren scampered off obediently, and Asahi rolled his eyes to himself once he was gone.

"Let Makoto deal with it," Hiyori said, eyeing him from the side.

"Makoto's not here."

"I told you guys not to hire him," Ran said, placidly straightening a stack of papers.

"Damn," Ikuya said, shaking his head. "The betrayal."

Ran just shrugged. "He's never gonna grow up if people keep babying him. I'm rooting for Asahi-san."

"Thank you," Asahi said, tilting his chin up.

"Do I get another raise?"

He pointed a finger at her. "Don't be a kiss-ass."

"You owe me another yen, by the way," Ran said, tapping the jar again. "You said 'ass' in front of Kono-san."

"Ass is not a cuss word," Asahi argued snootily, arms crossed.

"Is too."

"Is not —"

"Inappropriate language for a professional setting," Hiyori cut in, also with his arms crossed and a sour pinch on his brow. "It is too."

Ikuya laughed. "You call this circus a professional setting?"

"Kono-san is like a thousand years old, I'm pretty sure he's heard worse," Asahi argued.

"All the more reason to use polite speech."

"My house, I can do what I want," Asahi sang, already plugging his ears like a two-year-old and walking off. Hiyori followed him, just exactly like a swarm of agitated bees.

"Also, you can't bark at our employees just because you're acquainted with them outside of work."

"La la la la la …"

"You're infuriating."

"Can't hear you~!"

"I'm calling Kato-san! It's Adriatic Sea!"

Asahi whipped back around and threw himself at the front desk to slam a palm on the bell sitting on the corner. "That's it!" he shouted, repeatedly dinging the bell at times one-hundred speed. "I demand a match! I'm gonna wring his neck!"

"Take it outside!" Ran shouted, half rising from her chair with her hands over her ears. She swiped the bell out from under his hand and pointed them toward the door. "Outside! Kono-san should be leaving in just a second. I will send Ren out to referee."

"Somebody go get Kisumi," Asahi ordered, already headed toward the front door, while Hiyori trailed behind him with a large eye roll.

"He's got twenty minutes left," Ran called out.

"Go get him!"

A good handful of minutes later, everyone was out behind the back of the building, including Naomi, who was designated to record today's showdown.

Asahi and Hiyori were sat on crates on opposite sides of a small table. Their eyes were narrowed at each other.

"One hand only. No lifting your elbows. No standing up. No throwing the table at your opponent," Ren recited, standing in front of them.

"This is absurdly unnecessary," Hiyori said with exhaustion.

"You have to accept all challenges for a match. It's the rules," Ren said.

"It's a dumb rule," Hiyori snapped. "Why do we have to give this man-child whatever he wants?"

"Chicken," Asahi goaded with a smirk.

Hiyori sighed.

"He's the boss," Ren said.

"You either settle to an arm-wrestling match or you take another hit to the face. Do you wanna go through that again?" Ikuya said, smirking nearby with his arms crossed.

Hiyori sighed even heavier.

"You gotta humor him somehow," Kisumi said, also with a steady smile on his lips.

"Tono-san, no offense, but you complain about this every time," Naomi spoke up, already with a phone camera trained on them. "I have to get back to work. Mori-san is coming in with the kids soon."

Asahi's smirk curled up as Hiyori puffed out yet another exasperated breath of air. "P-p-p-pukaak."

"Shut the fuck up," Hiyori huffed under his breath, raising his elbow to the table and clasping Asahi's hand.

"Keep your other hand behind your back," Ren instructed, eyeing Asahi intentionally.

Asahi rolled his eyes on him, even in the midst of complying. "You're still in hot water, punk. You wanna be next?"

Ren pursed his lips and rushed through the rest of the rules. "No spitting, hitting, or kicking up dirt. Loser treats the winner to whatever they want for lunch."

"And," Asahi interjected, eyeing Hiyori determinedly. "Gets to pick the color that goes on the walls."

"No."

"Puk puk …"

"I said no."

"Pukaak!"

Ikuya shook his head and wiped a slow palm down his face, trying to conceal his amusement. "Give him what he wants."

"Hell. No," Hiyori objected, squinting his eyebrows at his best friend before he turned a burning look back on Asahi. "You can't just —"

"PUKAAAK!"

"Alright fine! Fine! Whatever." He settled, hunching forward and tightening his grip with his jaw clenched.

Asahi, still smirking, did the same.

Ren laid a hand on top of theirs. "Three, two, one, go!"

He took his hand away, and Asahi and Hiyori tensed, both baring their teeth as they fought to push the other's arm down. Ren bent in close with his hands on his knees, watching their forearms with an unblinking gaze as he commentated like they were in a derby. Naomi whistled from behind the camera.

"Let's go, baby. Don't break a sweat now," Kisumi cheered, hyping his man up while Ikuya raised his voice to Hiyori above the din.

"You gonna let him paint the walls the wrong color? Don't you back down, fight him back! He's not the only boss."

"Asahi's looking solid, but Hiyori's not backing down. There's a bit of tremble in the table, you can feel the ground shake. It's a fight for honor. Who's it gonna be? Hiyori's looking determined today! He's got the upper-hand. Their leaning to the left, no, now the right. Asahi's got that scary look on his face. He's not gonna let this one go …"

"Look at that clench! Big man's got it in the bag! Get 'im, babe!"

"Oh my god, Makoto's gonna whip you both when he gets back."

"Oh oh oh! Asahi's taking it! He's got the drive. Hiyori's going down, can he take it back? The crowd's hype! The crowd's hype! Forty-five degrees, can he recover from here? I don't think he's gonna make it! Asahi's got that smile in his eyes. Oh he's a goner! What are we gonna do? And? And?"

Asahi gave one giant push and slammed Hiyori's hand back on the table, immediately jumping up with a "Whoo!"

"It's Asahi, folks! Asahi takes the win! Hiyori is heartbroken. What a match!"

"Blue Fucking Mosque, bitch!" Asahi hooted, slapping the surface of the table.

Hiyori already had an intensely flat look on his face, arms crossed over his chest as Naomi, Ren, and Kisumi all cheered, and Ikuya just chuckled to himself. He pushed his glasses up with a plaintive breath while he waited for Asahi to calm down from his pop off.

He eventually plopped himself down and folded his fingers together on top of the table with a smug grin.

Hiyori lifted his chin with dignity and was calm when he spoke. "What do you want?"

"Blue Mosque," Asahi said. "Paint the whole fucking building if you have to."

"I know that, doofus. What do you want for lunch?"

Asahi lifted his grin and leaned forward over the table. "McDonalds."

Hiyori breathed out heatedly and shook his head. "You are an actual five-year-old."