Today's battle is a co-op effort, of all things.

Well, not really, because it's Atsushi who volunteers to keep their place in the line while Akutagawa grabs them lunch.

They've been at this for half a day now— very stupid, really, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. Their broadband subscription would be cut off, otherwise.

The money in the envelope suddenly feels a lot heavier now. Atsushi is still pale— he had this penciled in his planner since the beginning of the month. He just had to use said planner as a mug coaster last week.

"A once-off mistake," Akutagawa dismissed when he had called, half-panicking and full-on babbling. "Get dressed, jinko. Pick you up in ten."

They arrived at the telco center just in time as it opened, but the queue of desperate last-minute payors reached two blocks over.

Yikes.

Akutagawa had kept him company for the first two hours, arms crossed impassively as the line trudged on ever-so-slowly every ten minutes or so. Everything was going swimmingly , as it were.

Soon, morning turned into noon, and the sweltering heat as they left the shade and stood in the open left Akutagawa pale with exhaustion, and Atsushi immediately picked up on his boyfriend's trembling shoulders as he struggled to keep himself upright.

So he diffused that cause for alarm before it got worse: "W-Why don't you go and get us lunch first, Ryuu? I'll be fine here."

Akutagawa blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Atsushi laughed. "Cats like me love the afternoon sun."

A blatant lie, of course, and his sensitive skin will pay for it, but Akutagawa needed to get out ASAP .

"... Okay, then." He was being calm about it, at least. "Burgers?"

"Extra pickles," Atsushi completed. Akutagawa made a face at that, but didn't comment any further. "Be right back," he nods, silently leaving the line.

Atsushi waved back, hoping the line wouldn't drive him crazy for the next few hours.

But as fate would have it, Akutagawa still isn't back a good few hours later.

Atsushi begins to worry— what was taking him so long? Forget long lines, what if he had fainted somewhere? There's been no reception since this morning due to the sheer volume of people there.

What if, what if, what if—

The line moves forward, once more, and Atsushi realizes with a start that he's already at the shop's entrance. "Air-conditioning," he mumbles in relief, his worrying temporarily broken mid-cycle.

Just then, a sharply-dressed old lady swiftly cuts into the line before the guard could even stop her.

Atsushi's aghast. Who in this day and age would even —

He's always been patient, but not today, after all his buttons have been pushed, and—

"There's a line, Ma'am," a smooth baritone cuts in. "Kindly follow."

Atsushi looks up at Akutagawa, surprised. Him and diplomacy don't mix at all, but just today, he looks the part very well, coat fluttering and visor glinting.

Everyone else is starstruck, too, but they also nod, eyes flashing in anger.

A swift victory. The guard gives them an appreciative look, and Atsushi is only mildly embarrassed. Mostly proud. Yeah.

The home-stretch before they finally reach the counter proves to be very rewarding. The air-conditioning is a huge part of it, but Atsushi relishes more the feel of Akutagawa's arm around his shoulder as he is softly held close, the mix of sweat and light cologne intoxicating.

It leaves him in a decidedly much better mood than where they had started, and the errand is (finally) successfully completed, just like that.

Five minutes to five PM— just in the nick of time, too.

"Well, at least we have internet for another month," Atsushi shrugs as they exit the building, sorry eyes trailed on the rest of the queue as the guard declares a cut-off for the day. He has a feeling they won't be so lucky next time, but it's always better to count one's blessings, as they say.

Akutagawa rolls his eyes. "Remind me not to lend you my friction pen anymore. I don't always have the time to come to your rescue like this."

'What?!' is the first thing that comes to Atsushi's mind, because he seriously thought it was a mechanical pencil ever since, but one look from Akutagawa makes him admit defeat at once.

He pouts instead, biting into his cold sandwich. Mmmm— tuna, his hidden guilty pleasure. Maybe he should get Akutagawa to buy him lunch more often after this.

For now, Netflix (and chill) await.

Today's result: They both win— barely, that is. (The 'chill' was totally worth it.)