Have to go to work later; come by five if you want them.

I read the text again on the metro, ignoring questioning looks, appreciative glances. The hum of the train was comforting in its own way, bench seat hard, graffiti glaring from passing cement walls.

How on earth had I forgotten my clothes?

She teased me to no end last night, calling after the last trains departed. I could still hear her laughter, taunting me with talk of streakers and nudist colonies. Of course, I did not peruse the streets of Mushiyori naked – her gift saw to that – but such did not make the predicament any better. Saturday was laundry day because the firm closed at noon but due to the mishap, I only possessed one set of clean clothes, black on black on black.

All morning, coworkers and clients alike asked who died.

Biting back a sigh, I straightened as the doors slid open, smiling before allowing two girls to exit first. They giggled, uniform skirts flaring and twirling hair between their fingers. There was no need to follow their gazes. My own hair weighed at the top of my head, flaring locks brushing both shoulders from the grip of a ponytail–

Such was why I detested dark colors.

She had yet to respond to my message and when I reached her door with still no reply, concern pinched my stomach. Work and Demon World affairs kept me busy, what with tax season and the King's tournament falling roughly together. Though I was not participating this time, Yomi still required my assistance, everything from advice to a training partner. There had been precious little time to spend with her save the prearranged lessons, which always ended much too soon. Thankfully, we were nearing the end of the busy season, and the tournament would last a week at most.

Nothing would stand between us, then.

Yoko handled the time apart better than expected, finding amusement in pointing out Yomi's faults both in logic and in battle. Still, I found him thinking of her at times, red lips and black strands slipping through his dreams.

He slept now, tucked into the depths of my soul.

Sighing, I knocked on the door, knowing the doorbell did not work. Though she'd given me a key months ago, I seldom used it and never without her knowledge. When she did not answer, I knocked again with a firm fist, listening for movement inside the apartment.

Nothing.

My mind wove through worst-case scenarios with increasing speed, her key burning a hole in my pocket. Crimes were on the rise in the city and, what's more, Enki was concerned about unauthorized demons slipping through the door between worlds, ones which could not meet the border patrol or halfway house's requirements. True, Azumi was a capable woman though she would not stand a chance against these, not even a D-rank.

Is that why she would not answer?

"I'm coming in."

The door opened willingly, without use of the key. Warm relief swept over me at the absence of blood, soft music filling the air, coffee at one in the afternoon–

And soft laughter.

"Azumi?"

I found her in front of her bedroom mirror, bent nearly double with mirth. Her shoulders trembled inside hills of fabric – a vest much too big for her. The shirt was a simple affair, a button down white as soft clouds, but the vest was made of differing fabrics, diamonds colored after the rainbow. Black thread separated the shades neatly though she could not quite button the thing over her breasts. The pants were no better, moss green clinging to her thighs and buttocks, open fly gaping at the world.

As soon as she gained her composure, she glanced at me only to lose it again, falling onto her bed. She could not speak for laughing, chest heaving so greatly I feared the buttons would give way.

Though admittedly, I was not opposed to the idea.

"Y . . . y-your face!" She grinned, bringing both knees up with effort. "How do you wear this, Minamino?"

"Quite easily, actually." I raised a brow as she rolled first left, then right, looking very much like a turtle flipped on its back. "Are you finished?"

"Yes, but–" More giggles, hair fanned across a heated face. "I can't sit up!"

Annoyance gave way to skepticism as she continued to squirm, wrinkling my clothes further. "You cannot be serious."

"Do you know how long it took me to get in these pants?" She demanded without bite, arms reaching. "Come on, help me up!"

I did so without comment but her arms windmilled upon release, gravity setting to work. Grabbing on once more, I held fast, fingers curled around her wrist. "Surely you can stand on your own?"

She frowned, amusement fleeing. "I'm stuck."

When it was obvious she wasn't kidding, I sighed, crouching before her. "Why did you put these on in the first place?"

"Sounded like fun at the time." She shrugged, hands gripping my shoulders. Somehow during her expedition, she'd successfully caught her underwear in every internal button, functional or otherwise. "Thought I'd show you how ridiculous you look."

I heard her though it took a moment for me to process the words, caught in the feel of her thighs and buttocks.

Once more, I thanked heaven my companion slept. "Are you satisfied?"

"Hey, it's not my fault I have a butt and you don't."

"No but your butt is in my pants."

Another shrug and I set to pulling off the garment, every inch hard won and silently celebrated.

"It wouldn't kill you to do squats." Already she pulled at the vest, one hand still secure atop my shoulder. "We're about the same size everywhere else."

"Not quite." I mumbled, sure she would not hear. Azumi leaned forward as the pants surrendered more territory, breasts brushing my hair.

"What's the deal with this thing, anyway?" She shrugged out of the vest, colored cloth pooling on the bed. "It's a little loud, even for you."

"Mother made it for me when I began working for the firm." I dared not look up, concentrating on the task at hand. We were almost to the knee. "Please handle it with care."

Despite my best efforts, I could not ignore our scents mingling on the fabric, the soft lace at eye-level. Swallowing, I felt a stir within, the softest murmur. Yoko would awaken soon and if he saw any of this, he would take her without hesitation.

That could not happen.

Thankfully, once at her calves the pants fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. Angry skin snarled, imprinted with each seam though she appeared as relieved as I felt, pushing both articles into my hands.

"All right, give me a sec and you can have your shirt back. I've gotta get ready for work."

Thus dismissed, I left the room and, once she shut the door, sank against the wall. The vest was soon at my face, nose buried in woolen folds and breathing deeply. Of course, she would never see such a thing, couldn't see it thought I could not help myself.

This was the closest she would get to being mine.

September 2020 OTP Drabbles

Prompt 6 – Wearing each other's clothes.