A/N: Through a series of unfortunate events, I have realized that I must create the content I want to see in this fandom. My sincerest condolences to everyone.

Ramuda sighs, staring up at the ceiling from his spot on the couch. After his clones tried to finish him off, Gentaro and Dice had insisted on keeping Ramuda with them. Unfortunately they weren't sure if their usual hangouts were safe, which meant that for the past few days Ramuda and Gentaro had been sleeping in the same spots Dice usually went to when he gambled away whatever roof he had over his head. Chuouku may know everything about everyone, but even they didn't know everything about the homeless population. Or perhaps they were hoping Ramuda would off himself after spending a few nights in literal garbage. He hates to admit it, but dying had become a rather appealing idea the third night in a row. Thankfully, before he could entertain the idea any further, Gentaro and Dice had somehow confirmed that his studio wasn't being monitored. Results were still pending for his and Gentaro's condo, but at least this meant they had somewhere other than the streets to sleep. However, Ramuda was barred from posting anything on Fling Posse's social media in the event that their enemies were waiting to use it to lock onto his location. Which meant that while Gentaro and Dice out getting food for them he was bored completely out of his mind.

He's pulled from his thoughts by the door slamming open. He grins, leaping off the couch to greet Gentaro and Dice. The words die on his tongue when he sees neither of them standing in the doorway. Still, he supposes this person can alleviate some of his boredom. He tilts his head to the side and taps his chin with his finger, blue eyes wide with questions.

"What're you doing here Ichiro~? Come to spy before the big division battle? That's a big no-no you naughty boy~ "

"I got…some weird ass request from Dice," Ichiro pants, holding his phone up. Ramuda wonders if he ran all the way here from the station. "He thought…he thought you guys might be being watched? So, he wanted me to check the place out."

Ramuda grits his teeth; of course that's how Dice and Gentaro seemed so assured that this place was safe for him to return to. It still rubs him the wrong way that they went and involved another division leader. Was that shitty doctor going to show up on his doorstep next, spouting nonsense about how he knows the truth and wants to help him? The thought has a sweet airy laugh bubbling up.

"Sorry~! Dice must've had a little bit too much to drink. We party hard here in Shibuya, ya know~? Sorry to make you worry~ "

Ichiro's brows furrow together; Ramuda wonders when he stopped believing every word out of his mouth. "Ramuda seriously, Dice seemed pretty convinced there was a real threat. If there's anything I can do-"

"You can shut up and leave already." Ramuda drops the cutesy lilt from his voice. It's been a shit couple of days and he's all out of patience for pleasantries. He takes a perverse sort of pleasure in how Ichiro flinches as his voice drops. He had almost forgotten how cute his fear was; it serves to lift his mood considerably. It's a short-lived victory though as Ichiro squares his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height.

"You don't mean that," Ichiro says calmly. He walks further into the room until he's toe to toe with Ramuda. Ramuda hates how he has to crane his neck to keep his blue eyes locked on Ichiro's green and red ones. "You hate being alone, always surrounding yourself with people at every possible moment. But then at the slightest sign of trouble you push everyone away. Well I'm not going anywhere Ramuda, whether you like it or not!"

The way he speaks, so confident and earnest, has another laugh spilling from Ramuda. This one is darker, more sinister; he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. "Wow Ichiro, your protagonist speech is really good! I almost felt like I was watching an anime there."

"You only know what I let you know," Ramuda continues, keeping his expression disinterested, "It's better for everyone if you keep your nose on your face and out of my business."

"Little hard to do when your business is using my business to sort its shit out. Besides, you really think this could only be affecting you? If someone is really spying on you, what's to say they won't go after me anyway? For once in your life stop being a spoiled selfish brat and think of other people!"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he hisses. He's spent his entire life thinking of others, analyzing their wants and needs, their hopes and dreams. All so he can manipulate them into position on Chuouku's chessboard. He feels he's more than earned the right to be a spoiled selfish brat in his spare time.

Ichiro rolls his eyes, setting Ramuda's blood boiling. "Right, because you only let me know certain things. Newsflash asshole: everyone has secrets, you're not fucking special."

That simple statement hits him like a swift sucker punch to the gut. He knows that; he'd have to be a rare breed of idiot to think otherwise when there's hundreds of him being made in the bowels of Chuouku. But to hear Ichiro say that…Ichiro 'Friendship is magic, everyone is special in their own way so be yourself' Yamada? It has something ugly rearing its head from deep within his chest. A desire to see that youthful naïve face twisted in despair at the realization that Ramuda is just as shady as every other adult he's ever met. A need to dish out the pain he's feeling in his chest tenfold, until the other is brought to his knees in agony. It's what drives him to force himself deeper into Ichiro's personal space to shout at him.

"Takes an insignificant piece of shit to know one!"

Ichiro's hand is grasping the front of his shirt, hauling him up into the air. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Ichiro's other fist clench at his side. He smirks; he can already feel the other hitting him with his verses, his brutal raps slicing through his skin like a sword through rice paper. Or maybe Ichiro won't even deem him worth the breath and instead beat him with his fists. He's sure the rings that decorate Ichiro's fingers would leave dark bruises on his fair skin. It's the least he deserves after deceiving an innocent boy like him for so long after all. But then those eyes flicker to his lips, and suddenly Ramuda is acutely aware of everything Ichiro. The warmth of his body, the scent of his sweat and cologne, the pounding of his heart, the hot breath washing over his face. Briefly he wonders if he's the only one affected; judging by the darkening of Ichiro's eyes, he isn't.

He's not sure which of them snaps first. He assumes it's Ichiro considering his feet are currently dangling above the floor. Not that it really matters in the wake of the explosion that occurs when their lips meet. It's messy, forceful, more teeth and spit than lips and finesse. It's certainly not Ramuda's finest work but he'd argue it was easily the best he's ever had. He swings his legs up to wrap around Ichiro's waist. It catches the other by surprise, causing him to stumble before falling back into the couch. Ramuda uses this to his advantage, settling himself in Ichiro's lap before threading his fingers in his hair and yanking his head back. He ignores the hiss of pain from the other in favor of viciously biting at his neck. He's always been obsessed with leaving his mark, whether on the world or on his partners. The only difference this time is Ichiro seems as into it as he is.

"Ramuda," Ichiro moans, hips rolling up into his. The spike of pleasure has Ramuda pressing back just as hard. "Ramuda."

"Stop saying my name like that," he murmurs against the other's neck. He can taste the confusion on his skin, doesn't need to see it reflected in those mismatched eyes.

"Like what?"

"Like I don't piss you off. Like you actually give a shit about me. Like you…" his fingers tighten in the fabric of Ichiro's hoodie. Like you love me, he wants to say. He bites his tongue though, swears he can taste blood over the perpetual sweetness in his mouth. Something like him doesn't deserve to accuse someone of loving him, of even having the thought cross his mind. Just another sign of being defective, he can hear Ichijiku's voice saying in his head. It has him tensing in Ichiro's lap, nails digging into his shoulders.

One of Ichiro's hands moves to grasp his chin, forcing him to look into those green and red eyes. Those eyes…they're so soft and gooey, like a sun-warmed caramel. He's not a stranger to people looking at him adoringly, yet it has Ramuda's skin crawling, every nerve ending alight with the need to escape no matter how much he wants to bask in it. He squirms in Ichiro's lap, cursing that the other is strong enough to hold him there easily. "Don't look-"

The rest of his sentence is swallowed by Ichiro kissing him again. It's slower, sweeter, a gentle burn when compared to the raging inferno they had previously. If he keeps kissing him Ramuda thinks he'll melt, like a marshmallow held over an open flame. Maybe that's why he presses himself tightly to Ichiro, eagerly accepts the younger's tongue into his mouth. A warm flush rises to his face at the whine that leaves him. Ichiro huffs a quiet laugh against his lips, mumbling something about him being cute. He wants to retort; it dies on his lips when Ichiro moves to kiss his neck. Gentle, impossibly so, as if Ramuda is made of delicate spun sugar. He's never had someone touch him this way before. Of course he's had sex with women, but those were always just emotionless flings that cemented his lot in life as nothing more than a toy with a pulse. Just being kissed by Ichiro is a whole different experience, one that has Ramuda's pale fingers trembling as they gently thread through thick black hair. A silent plea for the other to stay there with him.

That plea is answered by Ichiro unbuttoning the bottom half of his dress shirt to slide his heated hands underneath it and over his bare skin. Those calloused hands that have dedicated themselves to helping others, that have ruffled his hair, that wield a mic with a skill that caught the eyes of Chuouku yet fumble with the small buttons, seem to whisper a quiet response that he wouldn't ever dream of leaving Ramuda's side. It sends a shiver up his spine; Ramuda tries to hide it by ripping off Ichiro's jacket and unzipping the bottom zipper of his hoodie. Why any designer with half a brain would put one there has always been beyond him, but he's starting to see the appeal as he easily feels up the other's abdomen without fully removing it.

Ichiro groans against his skin at his touch. He can feel the muscles in his abdomen flex as Ichiro grinds up against him again. Ramuda returns the gesture, pushing back with just as much force as Ichiro gives. The shock of pleasure that shoots up his spine when their erect cocks rub together through their clothes has him digging his nails a little harder into Ichiro's stomach. That action has Ichiro biting at the ribbon around his neck, yanking it loose with just his teeth as if the thought of pulling his hands away from Ramuda's skin was personally offensive. He manages to nick Ramuda's collar in the process but the designer can't bring it in him to care. He's always liked a little pain mixed with the pleasure anyway; helps make everything seem a little more real. Soon the ribbon is falling to the floor and quick work is made of the rest of the buttons. Never one to let an opponent have the upper hand for long Ramuda yanks the stupid white hoodie over Ichiro's head. He tosses it in the general vicinity of his jacket, not caring exactly where it lands. He's got more important things to do, blue eyes roving over the division leader underneath him. He takes in the well-built heaving chest, a pink flush already appearing. The marks from his mouth litter Ichiro's neck nicely; they won't fade for a while. And those eyes…

Ramuda's world comes crashing to a halt as he sees that same caramel soft look in them. As if Ichiro thinks the world of Ramuda, thinks he's the luckiest man in the world to have the other in his lap. Ramuda's head spins at the conflicting emotions that rise just from looking at those eyes. Surprise, anger, hope, disgust, joy, despair, gratitude, even ones he never thought he could genuinely feel so didn't bother learning the names of. All of them swirl and blend together to make the world's most unappetizing milkshake out of his innards. He doesn't realize he's been quiet for too long until Ichiro caresses his cheek.

"Ramuda?"

He tears his eyes away, looking down at their laps. For once in his life he's at a loss for words. He trembles, voice wavering a bit as he speaks. "…Why?"

There's a long pause. Ramuda has forsaken gods at his birth, but he hopes to whatever higher power Ichiro believes in that he isn't that dense. Just when he thinks he'll have to elaborate, Ichiro answers.

"Who else would it be?"

Ramuda's eyes widen in surprise; he jerks his head up to watch Ichiro. The other finds a corner of the studio's ceiling absolutely fascinating, choosing to stare there as his cheeks slowly turn candy apple red as he continues. "I mean…you brought us all together. Reminded us that fun is necessary for life to be worth living. Yeah it sucked ass when we broke up like that, but…I don't regret it. And then when everyone else left, you kept my number and stuck around. So seriously Ramuda, who else would it be?"

Ramuda huffs quietly, feeling his eyes burn as he looks back down at their laps. All those reasons Ichiro just listed, all of them were done on orders. To force them to let down their guard, trust him with their secrets, all so that their downfall would be the most painful and grandiose spectacle ever witnessed. The worst part, he muses, is that he doesn't think he regrets it. Regret would mean he was human, and while he knew his life was worth something now, he wasn't sure it was worth that classification. Still he feels something, a sharp pang in his chest and wetness rolling down his cheeks. Tears, his mind helpfully supplies. He hadn't thought they would have bothered giving him that feature when they created him.

"I'm…not a good person. I've done a lot of bad things. To a lot of people." 'To your friends. To your brothers. To you,' he adds silently. Ichiro frowns, the hand on his cheek gently wiping away the tears.

"But you did it for a good reason, right?"

Ramuda shrugs, a bitter smile on his face when he looks up at Ichiro again. "Only to save my own skin. I'm a pretty selfish guy, ya know?"

He expects Ichiro to push him away in disgust. Someone as selfless as him, who put his life and reputation on the line for so long just to try and save his little brothers, would never be able to understand. Ichiro was kind, brave, noble, everything Ramuda wasn't and could never hope to be. He was handed one of the shittiest lots in life and instead of being a pessimistic asshole like the rest of them, he chose to look towards the future with a smile on his face. Part of Ramuda hated it, wanted to crush it under his boot. Another part of him admired that tenacity, wanted to foster it and see where it led. Neither part expected the hand cupping his cheek to gently tuck some of his hair back behind his ear.

"That just means you're human Ramuda."

Time seems to stand still as he processes that simple statement. He understands that it's just Ichiro trying to comfort a friend, not understanding the impact of those words. But after being cast aside as nothing more than a tool for so long, even a misunderstood confirmation of his worth has him flying. The tears fall from his eyes faster and a look of panic crosses Ichiro's face. Before he can ask what's wrong Ramuda grasps his face and leans down, pressing their mouths together. He tries to copy the motions of Ichiro's lips from earlier, feeling it's the only fitting way to convey everything he's feeling in this moment. It's clumsy; he's never used it as a way to express his emotions before. When Ichiro doesn't respond immediately he worries he's turning the other off with his inexperience. But then his feelings are being returned tenfold as large hands push his hoodie and shirt off to map his torso. He lets out a happy moan, pressing his bare chest against Ichiro's chest as he grinds down. All he can focus on is Ichiro's hands on his body, Ichiro's tongue pressed against his, Ichiro's cock rubbing against him, Ichiro Ichiro Ichiro. He's so focused on him that he fails to hear the fumbling at the door before it opens.

"Oi Ramuda," Dice calls out; the rustle of plastic bags can be heard. Ramuda's eyes fly open, meeting Ichiro's own panicked gaze. Dice continues on cheerfully, not having noticed the current state of affairs just yet, "Gentaro got us takeout from that place…you…"

It's not the first time his teammates have caught him and another person in a compromising position. Ramuda has so far lived his short life giving zero fucks about people's perceptions of him. If they think him a ditzy ladies' man, all the easier it is to manipulate them. As Ramuda catches Gentaro peering around Dice's shoulder though, for the first time he feels what must be genuine embarrassment heating up his face. Whether it's because of the stress of the recent days or these newly discovered feelings for Ichiro, he wouldn't be able to say.

"It would appear we've come at an inopportune moment," Gentaro mutters. He gently grabs Dice by the shoulder, guiding him away from the door and closing it behind him. The ensuing silence in the room is deafening, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock. They both sit there as still as statues, neither daring to make the first move. Ramuda doesn't even know what the first move should be. It's the first time he's cared about someone catching him in the act, first time he's been genuinely flustered. As he's busy overthinking the situation, Ichiro clears his throat.

"I…should probably go…"

Ramuda tenses, feeling as if a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him. When Ichiro tries to get Ramuda off his lap the older pushes him back into the couch. He hides his face in the crook of Ichiro's neck, forehead pressed against his bare skin. He ignores the questioning call of his name as he frantically tries to figure out what he wants to say. Needs to say in the wake of these feelings erupting in him. His grip on Ichiro's shoulders tightens for a moment as he decides what to say. A simple request, whispered against his skin. Any louder and Ramuda fears it would prove too much for either of them.

"Sorry, what? I…you're mumbling, so…"

Ramuda relaxes his hold on Ichiro's shoulders. Even if the other hadn't heard him, at least it's out there now for the universe to know; for now that's enough. He looks up at the other, bright smile and sugar sweet voice back. "I said you do know me, better than I thought! Gold star for you~ "

Ichiro sighs, giving him a small smile as he pats Ramuda's head. Ramuda leans into the touch, humming quietly. "Alright, don't tell me. Either way I should probably be heading out. Don't wanna intrude on your dinner."

"You're not intruding~ "

"Is that how everyone feels, or is that just how you feel?"

"Does it really matter," Ramuda purrs, pressing his forehead against Ichiro's. He plays with the hair at the nape of Ichiro's neck. "It's my studio and my team. I make the rules for both, and the rules say Ichiro should stay! We can even share my food. I promise it's super yummy~ "

Ichiro laughs at that; the sound warms Ramuda's chest. It's almost enough to have him repeat himself from earlier. But he hates to repeat himself, finds it cheapens the meaning behind the words if you say it too often. So he'll save it for another day; perhaps the day when the walls of Chuouku decorate the earth like candy floss crumbles on his favorite cake. Maybe then he'll be brave enough to shout the words loud enough for the whole world to hear.

For now, he's content.

A/N: Dice with his ears and eyes covered: Y'all fucking decent or y'all decently fucking?

I accept any and all guesses for what Ramuda said. Nay, I encourage it.