STORY WARNINGS:
YaoiMale/Male.
Rating: Mature. ADULTS ONLY. Contains coarse language, explicit sexual content both consensual/non-consensual, forced/willing submission, bondage, BDSM, edging, safewords, aftercare, graphic violence, torture, adult themes, guilty pleasure fantasy where you want someone to be a bit too forceful.

This chapter was never meant to take this long. 3 weeks and a day? Shock horror! (^_) But little one going to hospital comes first any day – thankfully all better now, phew! Then real life kept throwing speed bumps at me and I also discovered that it's easier to write about things blowing up than picking up the pieces afterwards... I don't know what that says about me, haha XD Or does anyone else find the same?

This must be the most 'stationary' thing I've ever written. But this is where we are and I'm indulging myself exploring this and things move without moving. That probably makes no sense ;P I'm also hoping this isn't going to be a let-down after the last chapter bcause that was intense and maybe I should have mellowed that down a bit... XD Ah well. I can only do what I can and hope you enjoy this...!

~ Nyx ~

DISCLAIMER: The Finder series and all recognisable characters belong to Yamane Ayano sensei.


Click

Chapter 25

Ice –

Over under around through inside in in in –

Not ice, water! Freezing cold water – Fuck! – water, so cold –

Asami –

.

Can't breathe

.

Ryu

.

.


Fire! Lava, scourging his veins. It must have been real, burning his side, ignited, branding to the bone.

Akihito screamed awake, his voice shredded.

"Hold him!"

"Finish already!"

"It has to be in short bursts, otherwise it'll kill healthy tissue –"

The firebrand cleaved through him again. Hell incarnate, lightning bolt manifesting inside him, he couldn't scream anymore –

It dropped off as abruptly as it had come, dulling to a thumping ache that was mute in comparison.

"That should do it for now, sir."

"Where's that chopper!"

Asami –

"Two minutes out."

"Make it sooner."

Asami –!

"Yes, sir."

"Atha..." It killed to speak, his throat like sandpaper. There was something between his teeth.

"Easy, Akihito."

Oh that baritone, soothing as only when speaking to Akihito. A horrible whimper escaped him as he turned, blindly seeking that warmth, that scent –

Smoke? Damp? Mostly damp. The smell was wrong. Akihito twisted anew, seeking –

"I'm here," came that baritone, urgent, insistent. "I'm here, Akihito."

Asami. It was enough to ease Akihito back down again, half turning to the warmth behind and around.

Gentle fingers eased out whatever had been wedged between his jaws, soothed over his head. He tried opening his eyes. It took a few tries, his eyelids needed to be unglued.

Golden lance –

Akihito sighed. More a hoarse puff, he could only manage shallow pants, each breath grating like nails on a chalkboard. He had no idea what being skinned alive and boiled through and put back in his skin would feel like but he imagined it was something like this.

"...we dead?"

Asami stared down where Akihito was half lying in his arms. "No. Though you tried your best."

Akihito frowned, tried to shake his head, his shaking lips unable to form the words.

The harsh lines of Asami's face softened. "I know," he said quietly, his hands smoothing down the sides of Akihito's face again. Maybe brushing his hair away. "I know."

There was a smear of dirt or soot across Asami's temple, brushed there by hurried fingers. His hair was wet. His shirt too, clinging half see-through in ways Akihito wanted to appreciate, but his attention annoyingly kept getting pulled away by the blinding glare of pain. Asami moved something away that had been resting on Akihito's chest – the leather holster. Had that been in his mouth? He refocused with effort, his eyes twitching haphazardly. Overall the man didn't seem the worse for wear but Akihito had to be sure...

"– you alright?" he croaked.

Asami's face flickered – something like pain, harsh, intangible but far from insubstantial. There was a moment where he fought for composure – wow, what the fuck? Was Akihito hallucinating again? – and his gaze became fierce, so different to the gentle hands around Akihito's face.

"Of course," Asami told him, with self-assured arrogance.

Akihito grinned in response. At least he thought he did. There was that pained look in Asami's eyes again. But he had to ask, "– you – wet?"

"Don't worry about that now."

Not to be put off, Akihito rolled his head where it rested on Asami's arm.

Emergency vehicles, uniforms, black suits. Another dock. The black sky glowing orange from fires still burning. Suoh and Sagano and Nakatani – all three were wet. Suoh's suit was also singed along one side but all that aside he looked as fresh as a daisy.

Sensing the movement, the big guy caught his eye over Asami's shoulder.

Akihito managed a shaky smile. "Cake – thank fuck..."

"Hard to forget." Blond Tank returned the smallest smile. Akihito would take it, it was a lot for the stoic bodyguard.

"What's with the blasted cake?" Asami demanded.

Akihito snickered. But it dissolved into a pained moan, leaving him gasping for air that wouldn't come. That blasted fire was back, melting his flesh, eating up all the oxygen. His eyes slid closed.

"Akihito? Stay with me, Akihito. Open your eyes. Come on, damn it, you need to stay awake –"

Asami was speaking, demanding, ordering, but his voice was fading. Or maybe Akihito was fading. But it was ok. Because Asami was ok. He could let go.

And then Asami's baritone was drowned out by the thumping of chopper blades.

Darkness, blissful oblivion, so close – but a blast of agony dragged Akihito away. He cried out, desperate not to hurt anymore. Why was Asami gathering him up? Why couldn't he leave Akihito alone? But then he glimpsed Asami's jaw. Carved of diamond. Harder than he'd ever seen it. Fury. Despair. ...What?

"– sami...?"

"If you leave me now, Akihito, I swear I will punish you like there's no tomorrow," Asami growled at him, and Akihito would have so laughed if he was capable of it.

"Geez..." he rasped, a faint uplift lingering on his mouth. Ridiculous bastard.

Asami returned an almost smirk. He made a beeline for the chopper. "You know what to do," he ordered aside to someone.

"The clinic is ready, sir."


It had started as vested interests, all those years ago when the then-unknown patient had provided the equivalent of a day's wages for the entire surgical team in exchange for treating him on the quiet. From the moment she had met him, staggering into her private clinic on his own two feet as he bled beyond what would have levelled anyone else, Dr. Fujimoto had known that Asami Ryuichi was no ordinary man.

It had paid off to concede the extremely private patient his privacy. Not three days into his recovery he'd contracted an additional medical team to be on standby 24/7 for whenever he required, but released them to assist elsewhere in the clinic when he had no need of them. For a small clinic on the brink of bankruptcy it had been a godsend.

He was joined first by the big blond special-forces type, and then the one with the glasses. Still together to this day, over a decade on, the two men remained Asami's closest confidants through the rocketing of his standing in the business world. Frequenting the clinic together, they formed such a close-knit unit that the nurses had dubbed them the Big Three, the beating heart of what had become a well-oiled, intimidating workforce orbiting one of the richest and most influential men in Japan.

Over the years he had funded upgrades in provisions and medical equipment, and even expanded the clinic with an entire new wing. New clients mysteriously started flooding in, and within a few years the place had been revived into a bustling medical centre regularly expanding with new wards and services.

Meanwhile, curious events were being reported on the news. Truce being called out of the blue between yakuza groups who had been at war for generations. Business deals struck between factions that had long been at loggerheads. Not just in Tokyo but all across the country, even in other yakuza strongholds like Kobe and Osaka. And with the drop in gang warfare and spilled blood, so too did Asami's impromptu visits to the clinic. When whispers started up of a mysterious new figurehead in the underworld, it had dawned on Fujimoto. Through the mapping of Asami's injuries, she'd had a unique front-row seat all along to the biggest transformation to hit the Japanese criminal landscape in decades.

It had become a conscious choice. Fujimoto would rather deal with one shady businessman and his men who were suspiciously prone to violent injuries, than the influx of casualties and fatalities with every surge in tension and gang war that they used to see earlier in her career. It was no business of hers if the timing of Asami's injuries coincided closely with events reported on the news.

By now Fujimoto thought she was familiar with the type of men in Asami's employ, even the law enforcement officers whom the staff pretended not to notice sneaking in to visit him on occasion. So when they'd received a familiar, but less frequent as of late, alert from Kirishima to prep for emergency surgery, the bare facts and figures of the patient's medical details hadn't prepared her for someone quite like Takaba Akihito. She hadn't expected Asami to rush in alongside the stretcher, soaked from head to toe and uncaring of the blood drenching his shirt. Or for Asami to stay all through the gruelling surgery, as his men came and went and his clothes and the blood dried in his shape and he paced grooves into the waiting room floor.

But mostly, she hadn't expected the both of them.


Crying. Moaning. This was the pits. What in blazes were they doing? A cry clanged in his ears, raked his throat like nails.

Detached voices stirred nearby, unfeeling hands adding to the burning of his flesh.

That cry again, drumming his ears, hurting his throat. Hurting. Everything hurting.

Numbing. From his hand. Spreading. Numb arm and shoulders, numb chest, numb everything.

A scent. Anchor amidst the sterile sting. Breathing became easier. Air. Air was good.


Water! So much. Nothing but. He couldn't breathe! Lungs burning, in desperate need of air, but all he could see was the fire, fire on water –

Hands. Large hands. Cold in the water, but those hands, he'd know them anywhere. He sobbed, and water flooded him, and choking gurgling they were rushing up and up – but the fire –!


"Asami!"

Keening, too loud, ringing, scouring his throat. Voices, surprised, buffeted him. He was looking, reaching, screaming the only word he could think of, but the answer wasn't what he sought. Voices all around, gentle, but it was of no comfort. Not right. Pushing him towards darkness. He fought back, clawing at awareness, shouting his single word, thrashing –

Noises, disturbance, clamouring. A call of authority, silencing the din – at last! That voice! Already calming the turbulence, a shield from the army of spears piercing him. He moved, shifting everything, uncaring of his tearing flesh and ruptured body, repeating his word over and over, needing, seeking, reaching...

It was there, the only scent that could reach his soul, the warmth that soothed the raging fires. Engulfing him in security.

The voice sounded only for him, all others melting away.

He stopped fighting and let darkness drown him.


Fujimoto quickly recognized that her patient's demons would be the worst saboteurs to his recovery. Plagued by nightmares, unseen foes chased him awake when he should have still been sedated.

Takaba flitted in and out of consciousness, whimpering in pain, flailing against unseen hands, always with one name carried on his cries, torn from his already hoarse throat.

"Asami!"

And the man was there, catching the hands that grasped blindly, murmuring reassurances. Or Asami's own adaptation, anyway.

"You can't be letting something as pathetic as this get you down." Or "Really, Akihito? Giving up already? How dreadfully dull." Or this particularly sweet one: "If this was your big getaway plan, you have another think coming."

Fujimoto would have been concerned if not for Takaba's obvious reassurance. No matter the choice of words, Asami's voice calmed him. The patient's pulse was steadier, his blood pressure lower. And Asami's bedside manners were in stark contrast to his words, gentle fingers brushing through the blond hair, never minding how it stuck to the pale, sweaty forehead. Not to mention how he'd barely left Takaba's side.

There was one incident that clinched it for her. Takaba flailed awake, screaming, eyes wide but unseeing, clearly still trapped in the throes of nightmares, yelling Asami's name. She wasn't sure if he was meant to be the enemy or saviour until Asami's leaping to the boy's side resulted in sobs of relief and refusing to let go.

In the end Asami manoeuvred himself down alongside, onto the edge of the bed that had been reclined up to alleviate weight off the chest cavity. He shifted them until he had Takaba in the arch of his arm with the blond head resting on his shoulder, summarily ignoring the doctor staring a little flustered at the display. Delirious and barely conscious, Takaba had muttered objections at being so crowded, even calling him "Perverted bastard," to which Asami only chuckled and called him "Troublesome brat" in return, after which both had promptly fallen asleep, apparently assured that all was well with the world.

Why reinvent the wheel? It was just one more area where Fujimoto chose to turn a blind eye to clinic policy where Asami was concerned. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't own half the place.

Asami was a predator guarding his catch. Eagle-eyed, he monitored her from under slitted lids as she checked on Takaba's vitals every hour, and likewise when she handed over to the night duty nurse. Nurse Kobayashi was clearly shocked to see the two sharing the bed, not only against clinic regulations but at finding the smoking hot billionaire that so many nurses always flirted with holding another man with such tender care.

Fujimoto shrugged. "Think of it as a natural remedy in place of chemical sedatives," she whispered.

"Sedatives?"

"Nightmares. Takaba-san was extremely agitated. Asami-sama managed to calm him."

"I... see..."

"Not a word to anybody, Kobayashi-san."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Fujimoto-sensei." The nurse gave into a quiet smile as she shut the door, giving them privacy from the nurses' station.


The reassuring beeping of life. A distant PA call. The occasional thumping of pendulum doors.

It took a while for awareness to return, registering the world piece by piece.

A half light glowed over the bed. A heart monitor beeped steadily, keeping vigil alongside IV drips. Chrome bed frame, crisp white sheets. Bare shoulders and arms.

Akihito's mind was a field of cotton. His body was sluggish, everything numb. Actually that wasn't true – one side of his torso was throbbing, a background hum. Everything else was numb.

Asami was asleep. Barely inches away. Half turned towards Akihito, his black hair sweeping down towards the pillow.

What a sight for sore eyes. Almost inhumanly striking, the emanation of the compelling force within, made only more dear to Akihito by the fatigue weighing the great man even in rest. Features so familiar, the familiarity itself filling Akihito with a powerful surge of longing, one he couldn't make sense of when Asami was right beside him. He ached to ease the pinch from that strong brow, relax that sculptured jaw.

Akihito was too weak to do anything but twitch the muscles in his arm. But it was enough to wake Asami. His eyes flew open – and widened at seeing Akihito awake.

Akihito was caught in that intense gaze as he stared back. He was still cataloguing everything, how he was breathing by himself, lying on an inclined hospital bed, Asami's shoulder acting as his pillow. He found himself hazy on some of the details but he had no difficulty with the knife and bomb. Those were etched in crystal in his mind.

They were alive. Touching. Looking at each other. It seemed incredible.

Akihito tried his voice. "... Hi."

A little hoarse, but workable.

A large hand came into view, cupped his jaw. Flat along its length, the thumb brushed along his cheek.

But then everything about Asami tightened – his brow, his jaw, his lips, and Akihito had a glimpse of those piercing eyes closing tightly as Asami pressed his lips against the blond crown.

Asami didn't move for a while.


"Two days?!"

Akihito's exclamation was a rough hiss. His throat scratched and he feared a coughing fit, but Asami brought a plastic cup to his lips. The water was nectar, a balm in the desert.

Putting it aside, Asami reached for a remote overhead. "I'll call the doctor –"

"Wait! Uh –" Akihito's eyes shifted under Asami's gaze. "I'm alright so... just leave it a few minutes, ok?" Truth was he didn't want to move. Not that he really could anyway, but he wanted to stay like this, just the two of them.

Asami settled back down, though he couldn't have been comfortable balanced on the edge like that. Why was the bed bent up diagonally?

"Is this your room?" Akihito asked. Because he was stalling. And because this was way bigger than most normal hospital rooms. Three doors led off somewhere, there was a big table with four chairs and a sofa on the other side of the room too. And none of that sterile pastel green. With everything sleek and modern and monochrome, there was a luxury hotel room vibe about the place, only with a bunch of medical gizmos and machines and surplus of eye-level plug sockets.

"One of them. I have a suite here."

"Here being?"

"A private medical clinic."

"People don't usually own rooms in medical clinics."

"I'm a special client."

Akihito snorted softly, and took a moment to endure the resulting pang in his side. "I bet you are. Must be why visiting hours don't apply to you. 'Cos that looks like the sun's setting."

The windows stretched the entirety of the wall behind Asami. The sunset was impossible to miss. Though apparently Akihito had already missed one since all the whoop-de-do at the docks.

Asami smirked. "I'm hardly a visitor when the patient was begging me to stay with him."

Hazel eyes widened. "That wasn't a dream?"

"You refused to let me go. The only way to keep you sedated was in my arms."

"Oh god..." Akihito could feel the flush rising up his face. Surely his blood had more important things to be doing, like healing? "Well, pardon me for keeping you from more important business," he grumbled hoarsely, covering up his embarrassment.

All humour leeched from Asami's face. The hand wrapped around Akihito rubbed at his arm, the pressure firm. "You were in a bad way. I had no intention of being anywhere else."

"Oh..." was all Akihito could say. And damn it but his face was only getting warmer at that. But more pressing was Asami's hard, troubled look. "Are you alright?"

Asami's gaze refocused from where they'd been lost in dark places. "This again," he muttered. "I'm fine."

"Sure?" Akihito's throat was sore but he pushed through the words. "You don't seem fine."

Asami replied, but his answer didn't immediately feel like an answer. "Suoh was wearing a wire but Wakajima had signal jammers in place. It took a while to get through on the SATCOM and by the time –"

"You own a satellite?!" Akihito butted in hoarsely.

Asami took a beat to answer the abrupt question. "No. I borrowed access."

Akihito looked like a kid in a candy store. "Man, I gotta tap that." But then he caught sight of Asami's face again. "Sorry. You were saying about SATCOM?"

Asami regathered after a pause. "By the time Kirishima managed to reconnect to Suoh's wire, he'd missed the extent of... what was happening with you. He had the coast guard, fire fighters, divers, paramedics and backup standing by, but..."

All this uncharacteristic hesitation was starting to freak Akihito out. "What aren't you saying?"

"The knife was knocked out," Asami explained, clipped but otherwise carefully expressionless. "Could have been the blast or the water. But there weren't enough clotting agents on the scene. You were bleeding out. We had to cauterize your wound."

"We?"

"Kirishima. There wasn't time to administer pain meds –"

"The strap!" Akihito rasped. It made sense now why it had been between his teeth. "Your holster."

Asami nodded. The clouds remained heavy. Had it really been that bad? Sure, Akihito remembered the horrible pain – the worst thing ever, in fact, worse than the knife tearing – but still...

"What if he hadn't?"

"You'd be dead," Asami said flatly.

Akihito would have shrugged if he could. "Then 's'all good, right?"

The shadow didn't lift.

"...Right?"

The thunder suddenly broke. "What the hell were you thinking!"

Akihito blinked. "Wh-what?"

"You should have waited! Moving – what were you thinking? You had a knife. In. Your. Lung!" Asami looked like he wanted to storm around the room but Akihito's head was on his arm.

Akihito had no idea what defensive, inflammatory retort he might have thrown back, if he'd spoken just then. He was never given the chance.

Asami looked away. "Damn it, Akihito," he hissed.

That was when Akihito saw it. All the pent up worries and rage and frustration, a tempest Asami hadn't been able to vent.

That, more than anything else, got to Akihito. What Asami must have felt, seeing Akihito like that, unable to do anything –

"I'm sorry..." A hot lump welled up unbidden. Akihito's eyes blurred. "I'm sorry –"

All of a sudden Asami's arms were surrounding him and Akihito managed to turn his head into the strong chest. His side throbbed but it didn't matter because Asami had him and there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

A long sigh ruffled his hair.

"We were all shielded in the water when the dock blew," Asami said quietly. "We didn't even get a scratch."

Akihito supposed this just burned Asami even more. He was clueless what he could do to convince Asami he didn't have to feel guilty for anything. All he could do was stare at the Adami's apple in front of his nose and do what came naturally. Might as well put his foot in it, right? You never know, it might help.

"So I know you're all pissed off at me and all, but you gotta admit I pulled it off like you showed me, right? Spin and boom, bye-bye nose. I'm calling it the fart."

"... The fart?"

There was a pause. Akihito tried to contain it. He really did. But in the end the laughter bubbled up and out and he was left half grinning, half grimacing like a madman. He grabbed at Asami's hand to stop him as the man went for the remote again. It was good to move, even with the dunking of pain that came with it.

"'m good," Akihito insisted. "But man, you said fart. You're killing me here."

Asami's look was sharp. Akihito laced their fingers together, apologetic. Or maybe that was just the excuse. "Bad choice of words. But shit, I should've recorded it. That would've been my ringtone."

"Your phone wouldn't have survived past the first ring."

Akihito snorted softly. "Yeah, I bet." He was still looking at their intertwined fingers.

Asami had to prompt him again. "Well? Are you going to tell me or just leave me in suspense?"

"It's gonna be my signature move," Akihito explained. "A mink's last fart. I think it's a good name."

Ah, that old adage. Asami's chuckle ruffled the blond hair. "You would."

Akihito snickered, shooting another pang through his ribs.

Asami didn't miss it, of course. He refused to be deterred again. "Time for the doctor, you little minx." He grabbed the remote and thumbed the call button.

Akihito didn't stop him this time, exhaustion and pain overcoming him. "I said mink, not minx," he pointed out. He missed the warmth of Asami's fingers.

"And I said minx."

Akihito rolled his eyes, but he couldn't argue as Asami wove their fingers together again. His thumb traced circles into Akihito's palm, diverting yet more blood to his cheeks. Yep, Asami was gonna be the death of him alright.

"Anyway, more importantly, what was with the cake?"

Akihito's lips curved. "Plotting. Me and Blond Tank."

Asami arched a questioning brow.

"We're gonna trounce you in the dojo one of these days," Akihito grinned up at him. "You're going down." Nowhere near the million wattage of his usual smiles, but a smile was a smile and it wasn't dead.

Asami smirked right back. "Bring it on."


Asami took his leisurely time untangling himself from Akihito and off the bed, despite Akihito's embarrassed hissing to hurry the fuck up. But apparently this only amused the good doctor more who busied herself shuffling paperwork with an ill-concealed smile until they were 'presentable'.

The doctor was an unusually tall woman in her early fifties, her grey hair neatly pulled back into a bun. "It's very good to see you awake, Takaba-san. I'm Dr. Fujimoto, Director of Trauma and Surgical Critical Care. How are you feeling?"

"Hi. Yeah, I'm good," Akihito nodded. "Good."

"Any discomfort or pain?"

"I'm mostly numb. I'm ok." How very reassuring.

"I need to check vitals and dressings, if I may?"

Asami made to step away, but then turned back. "I'm going to get washed. I won't be long." He waited, then added, "There are guards right outside and throughout the facility. You're safe."

Akihito nodded, wondering why Asami was standing there explaining himself. Asami rubbed at his fingers, soothing. His fingers... Akihito was still holding onto Asami's hand. He hurriedly let go. Bereft, he itched for contact.

Asami paused, considering him for a moment. He suddenly smirked, that infuriating arrogance on full whack. "Don't worry, I'll towel you down later," he said, then swooped down and planted a smacker right on the lips.

"Mph –!"

Asami pulled back before Akihito could shove at him – or try to and hurt himself.

"Baka, go shower already! You stink!"

Asami smirked, ruffling his hair before striding out. Akihito glared after him, even as he warmed inside. That kind of PDA – entirely for show, to rile him up, to put the spark back in his eyes. All just to make him stronger when he was being so timid...

Fujimoto hid a smile as she set about checking her patient over. It was fascinating seeing them interacting with Takaba conscious now. Asami clearly knew how to push the young man's buttons and she would wager it went both ways.

"So tell me, how are you really?" she asked.

Akihito gnawed at his lip as she took his blood pressure. "Don't tell Asami, ok? He's just gonna get all worried and gloomy. It hurts in my side when I laugh or try to move."

"Laughing already?" Fujimoto smiled. "I understood you just woke up."

"Don't you know Asami? Textbook barrel of laughs."

The doctor coughed in surprised laughter. "How could I forget? Now, how would you rate the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Urgh I hate these questions. What, so stubbing your toe is a two? Or three or four if it's really bad, you know, like on a freezing cold day. I would've put getting stabbed and then that slicing at ten, but then there was all that cauterizing or I dunno, whatever they were doing when I woke up was like a fifteen. Or maybe twenty. So this is about four or six, maybe seven, and a half, depending on how much I laugh or move. Does that answer your question?"

Fujimoto was staring. "Perfectly," she smiled. She stuck a thermometer with a disposable plastic tip in his armpit and held his arm in against his side. "We had several close calls to begin with but you've made remarkable progress. I will check but that sounds normal at this stage. The cauterization that you mentioned, after they drained your left lung of the sea water, you were still bleeding heavily into it." She removed the thermometer, jotted things down in the patient notes. "Considering the limited resources available, it was remarkable that Kirishima-san managed to save your life."

"I – I know."

She shone lights into his eyes, ears, and a wooden stick down his throat, and jotted more things down. She gently tipped his head aside to check where Scarface had bashed his head.

"Any discomfort here?"

"No, can't feel anything there actually."

"That would be the morphine. Let me know if you do feel any discomfort or pain, but aside from some surface bruising the scans didn't reveal any deeper injury." She scribbled some more. "The police have been asking to take your statement. Do you think you'll be up to it this evening?"

"Uh..." Physically or for getting his story lined up with Asami? he wondered. He had no idea what to say, because he couldn't exactly say what Scarface had really been after.

"Shall I recommend that they wait another 24 hours to make sure you can string more than a few words together?" She winked.

Yeah, even injured he had no trouble babbling. He started laughing, and winced. "That'd be great."

"Let me have a look at that."

She started at the dressings plastered to the side of his torso. Akihito couldn't really see, not being able to sit up, so he glanced around the room as he waited. He was drawn to the table on the other side of the large room, strewn with files. Had Asami been working here or something?

"It's all looking fine, Takaba-san. I'll send for more painkillers for you to make you more comfortable but your wounds are closing up well, stitches are clean. We'll change the dressings again tomorrow. Give it another 48 hours and you'll be able to try getting up. I'll let you know when."

"Really? That would be awesome but I don't think I can lift a finger at the moment."

"A bit of food, a bit of normal sleep, and you'll start feeling a lot stronger. The sooner you can start on easy, moderate walks, the faster you'll recover. But moderation is the key for now, there's no rush. We'll leave the catheter in until you can get to the bathroom by yourself."

Akihito's eyes flew down, aghast. "Catheter?!"

"It's one of the most commonly performed procedures, for operations or in unconscious patients. Nothing to be embarrassed about," she reassured.

"Still..." There was a tube in his dick...

"Asami-sama commented you would react this way."

"Asami saw?" he wailed.

She cleared her throat. "He offered to insert the catheter tube for us, but clinic policy didn't allow that I'm afraid."

He looked utterly mortified.

"I might as well say this now while we're here. I have to caution you not to engage in any strenuous activity, anything that makes you too out of breath or requires too much movement, for six to eight weeks, and you'll need to gradually ease back into things with physio and rehab."

"Eight weeks! That's two months! Ok, ok, I'll try not to run any marathons or anything like that."

She stared hard at him. "That's good, but I was referring more to sexual activities."

Comprehension dawned. The hazel eyes darted everywhere but at her.

"I only point this out since Asami-sama was extremely detailed in his questioning of what activities might be feasible and when, penetrative sex or otherwise. I have assured him that it all comes down to you. Listen to your body, if anything is uncomfortable or painful, stop."

But painful? With Asami? That was the best kind –

She saw his cheeks bloom pink before he hid them behind a hand with an almighty groan.

Confident he'd got the message, she started putting her notes away. "We had a lot of chances to talk, he's rarely left your side."

Akihito scrunched up his face, still blushing crimson. "Yeah, I got that feeling."

She smiled kindly. "Now for the fun part. What would you like for dinner?"


Two short, sharp, quiet raps. Glasses' knock was like the man himself, no nonsense, nothing superfluous.

Kirishima had taken five steps towards the table before he noticed he was being watched from the bed. He blinked, twice in quick succession, probably as close to a double take as he might ever get.

Akihito waved fingers without lifting his hand from the sheets. "Hey. How you doing?"

Kirishima glanced at his boss leaning against the window – taking in the casual stance with one foot crossed and hands in pockets but not fooled by it for a moment – before continuing on to the table.

"No change here," Glasses replied. "How are you?"

Akihito went to shrug, masking a wince as he belatedly remembered he couldn't do that yet. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good to hear," Glasses said as he placed a handful of folders on the table. "I'll collect signatures in the morning, Asami-sama."

Asami returned a barely-there nod.

Akihito thought that that might be the full extent of sympathy from the expressionless man, but Glasses took a detour of several steps towards the bed.

"I hope you're not in too much discomfort. I wish you a swift recovery." Stilted, but the fact that he'd said anything at all spoke volumes.

"Th-thanks," Akihito said, surprised.

Glasses nodded to him and bowed to Asami before heading back out.

"Uh, Kirishima-san?"

Using his actual name? Not only that but with 'san' too? Akihito was sure the man stumbled. It was more than a dead stop.

Glasses turned slowly, and seemed to be taken aback at Akihito's serious expression. No wonder, it was rare for Akihito to look at him without mischief or aggravation.

"I hear it got all kinda hairy before and it can't have been easy, but... You saved my life. I'm glad you were there and, you know, did what you did. Thank you."

Was this what surprise looked like on Glasses? He stared without moving or saying anything for several beats. Then his stony face became stonier than usual, or perhaps just heavier. Akihito didn't know him well enough to identify it. But the single nod of the head was firm with meaning, sincere. Akihito felt a little lighter for it.

"Thank you, Takaba-san. I'm glad it worked out."


Two rings. "Everything ok?"

"Yes, no flags. He's awake."

A pause. "Takaba's awake?"

"He seems alert and cognitively sound. Time will tell."

The pause was longer this time. Quietly sharing. Because Kirishima was starting to understand the giant soft spot that the big giant seemed to have developed for the punk.

"And the boss?" came the expected question.

Kirishima didn't hesitate. "He'll want to visit the guest soon."

Suoh's voice was rich with anticipation. "We're ready and waiting."


"Where were we?" Akihito asked as the door closed behind Glasses.

"You were waxing lyrical about your dinner."

"Oh yeah! It was nothing like normal hospital food. Do you have your own chef or something? I wish I'd been able to finish it."

"Your body is healing. It's natural to tire easily." Because yes, Asami had returned to find Akihito had actually fallen asleep mid-meal.

"Is that the voice of experience I hear? Actually, how many times have you been injured?"

Asami shrugged. "Once or twice."

"Once or twice my ass," Akihito muttered. But something made him shy away from asking any more. "Anyway. It's not that, I'd already finished before I fell asleep. It was embarrassing how little I could eat!"

"Eating little is embarrassing?"

"Yeah, don't you think?" Akihito threw a deliberate grin. "It's a sign of advancing years, you know. Equipment starts failing, stomach loses elasticity."

The look in Asami's eyes told him he'd be in so much trouble for that if he wasn't laid up. "So the opposite of that is the sign of youth, is it?"

Shit. This was Asami, which meant it was a trap. "You're doing that voice again," Akihito said cagily.

"What voice is that?" Asami asked innocently. "I'm merely pointing out the basic necessity of theories requiring proof. We'll see how youthful you are when you're fit and well again. Equipment and elasticity, wasn't it?" The gleam was unmistakable.

"I knew it!" Akihito burst out, going so far as to point an accusing finger but ended up flinching at the stab of pain that seemed to go right through his torso. "Fuck," he gasped, sagging back into the pillows. It was too much to try to hide.

There were fingers at his lips, pressing insistently. Akihito parted his mouth to find two pills pushed onto his tongue. A cup followed and he drank it down.

"You should have taken them earlier." Asami's voice was soft and hard at the same time. But Akihito opened his eyes to find nothing soft in the man's expression.

"I didn't need them earlier."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Do you really think I haven't noticed?" Asami replaced the cup on the bedside table, his movements careful as though requiring a substantial amount of control. "All the times you pretend that your side isn't killing you?"

Asami's gaze burned. So much rage – but it wasn't like when Asami had suddenly erupted at him when he'd woken up. That had been driven more by worry. This was out for blood. An eye for an eye. At the very least.

"Where –" Akihito's jaw continued to shift but something choked his voice. He glared unseeing at the heat-pressed sheets, frustrated by his own cowardice.

But Asami picked up on it all the same. "The police is reporting that Wakajima perished in the blast."

The breath froze in Akihito's throat. He looked up slowly.

"They haven't found any remains, most likely washed away when the dock was submerged in the bay."

Akihito was searching Asami's face. Was he saying what Akihito thought he was saying? He was, wasn't he?

Slow with purpose, heavy with meaning, Asami ensnared Akihito in his gaze. "He won't – ever – come after you again."

Oh god, he was. Akihito was full of such a jumble of relief and guilt and dread and even crude triumph that he couldn't decipher it all. "Is that, like, now? Or... in a bit?"

Asami smiled, but it wasn't any normal smile. It was the kind of expression that he didn't show the press, the darkness within that so few alive had witnessed. The dragon at this man' soul.

"Soon." The back of Asami's fingers traced the slender jaw. "Or not so soon. Karma is a bitch, after all."

Akihito really shouldn't be feeling so relaxed at this. But if he hadn't known it before, he certainly did now. He'd tried to blow himself up to save Asami, for fuck's sake. If that didn't tell Akihito that he'd long passed the point of no return, he didn't know what would.

"Will you tell me when... it's done?"

"If that's what you want."

Akihito fidgeted with the sheets folded back over his torso. "What about Mitarai?"

Irritation flickered across Asami's face. "What about him?"

Interesting how the reaction differed. "Is he alive? Dead? Or what do the 'police think'?" His tone conveyed air quotes.

Asami regarded him closely. "He's missing."

"Missing?"

"Perhaps the police will track him down. Perhaps they won't. Who knows."

Oh.

Oh! Akihito blinked. It was a choice? His choice? It seemed Asami wasn't on quite the same personal vendetta with Mitarai as he was with Scarface. Did Asami still sympathize with Mitarai because of his sister? Maybe, but it probably pissed him off too.

"Uh... well, maybe... Maybe they'll find him. If they find him, they'd try him according to the law, right?"

Asami sighed heavily. "How did I know you'd say that?"

Was that another reason why Asami wasn't stringing Mitarai up in the same way? He didn't know what to make of Asami making such allowances for him.

"Don't get me wrong," Akihito said quietly, "he's a fucking idiot and he totally fucked up. But, just the why, you know? It's not like Scarface, who was creepy and greedy and he sure as fuck wasn't doing any of that for Tsubasa. And did I mention creepy?"

Akihito shivered, which made him flinch, which made Asami's gaze burn that particular shade of fierce again, which made Akihito cast about for something to temper the tempest...

He was done with this topic anyway. Time to shift gears. Akihito made a point of making his head comfortable on the pillow, releasing a contented sigh that bordered on a moan.

"So where're you sleeping tonight?" he deadpanned. "Sofa?"


Restless, mumbling, the words unfathomable. The blond head was tossed aside, chased by a grating groan, tailing off into a whimper.

"Where... Where –"

A huge gasp, dredging for oxygen where there wasn't any, arms flung out, fingers outstretched, reaching, reaching –

"Asami!" Hazel eyes flew wide, unseeing, frantically searching where no eye could see. "Asami!"

"Akihito!"

Akihito froze, focusing, stunned to find himself face to face with the man beside him in bed. Bewildered and lost, his eyes pored over every centimetre of Asami's face. A trembling hand landed on Asami's arm, grasping, squeezing up and up until he reached the shoulder, neck, face, feeling along like a blind man clawing his way out of a hellhole.

"Asami?" A breath, such fervent hope –

It made something ache in Asami's chest. "I'm right here, Akihito."

The crumbling house of cards. Relief leeched the last of the strength from Akihito and he wilted. He was beyond caring where he landed, but the broad shoulders and strong arms caught him.

He was a lifeless ragdoll for a long while, slowly gathering himself. Asami didn't rush him, his warm hand roving an aimless path along Akihito's arm and shoulder and uninjured side. For a man who marched the world to whatever beat of his own drum, he sure could display an inordinate amount of patience at times where Akihito was concerned. Specifically when he was the most vulnerable.

When Akihito spoke again his voice was more like his own, if a little subdued. "You must be sick of this. I know I am."

Asami's hand didn't let up its dawdling repetition along Akihito's skin. "Do you think I would I still be here if I was?"

Akihito was glad his cheek was pressed against Asami's shoulder, his face hidden. He made no attempt to move, something about the nocturnal quiet letting him draw on the considerable comfort that Asami provided.

"Everyone has their moments," came the quiet baritone, a soft admission into the darkened room. "It's alright not to be alright sometimes."

Akihito's head was carried by the easy rise and fall of Asami's chest. "Bet that doesn't apply to you though, right?"

"It does."

"Bullshit."

A huff of a smirk. "Admittedly not often, and it tends to be in rather more... aggressive ways."

Akihito couldn't help snorting. "Yeah, I bet."

They lay there staring into the dark, one too afraid to close his eyes again, the other waiting.

"What was the dream, Akihito?"

Akihito had already been rather still, especially for him, but he now became as motionless as a statue, his face stricken. There was no answer. As Asami started to wonder if he'd stopped breathing, he said, "Suoh had me flat on my back with a gun in my face the first time we met."

Akihito's stillness morphed into something else entirely. "Huh?!"

Asami held his tongue and waited. He could imagine the brat scrambling up, all eager and tenacious as he poked and prodded for every last detail in his usual colourful way, if he'd been able. As it was, Akihito was currently reduced to elbowing against Asami's side.

"You can't just drop a titbit like that and clam up. What's the juice?"

"Actually... Perhaps forget I said anything –"

"Oh, come on!"

"Really? Well, maybe another time."

"Don't be an ass! Tell me!"

"Hmm, far too stimulating for you right now, I think."

Akihito snorted at the suggestive rumble. "Bastard, you know I'm pissing down a tube here, nothing's getting stimulated."

Asami's chest shook softly, a soundless chuckle. His meandering hand drifted lower along Akihito's hip. His baritone likewise drifted further into the bedroom, caressing with his words. "Are you sure about that, Akihito?"

Asami could almost feel the heat of the blush against his shoulder.

"What the – s-stop with that voice!" Akihito stammered. "You're unbelievable. Doc said no action, remember?"

"For several months."

"That's right, and don't you forget it. I'm off limits so you're gonna have to learn to keep your grabby hands to yourself and –" Akihito abruptly stopped dead. Even his body seemed to freeze up all over again, before he was curling in on himself.

Or at least, that sentiment was clear from the small increment that Akihito drew away. Asami could practically see the dotted line that that sharp but sometimes random mind had connected.

"Do you intend to tell me what just came to mind?" he demanded, more sharply than he'd intended.

Akihito barely masked a wince. "I don't know what y–" He was stopped by the sudden hold on his jaw, forcing him to look up at Asami. There was a flicker of pain but Asami wasn't going to let this slide.

"What have I told you all along?"

Akihito sought frantically, a touch of genuine alarm rising when he couldn't pinpoint one thing in particular.

Did the brat really think Asami would seek gratification elsewhere? Did Akihito think so little of him? Or perhaps it was that stubborn denial, or not daring to hope, or from being shaken after recent events...

Asami sighed, his harsh gaze easing. "Only you, Akihito."

He let Akihito relax against his shoulder again. Perhaps Akihito just needed time for Asami to prove himself. Or perhaps it was all of those –

"So are you gonna tell me how Suoh handed you your ass or what?"

Asami found his lips curving. "Very well, seeing as you're pissing down a tube, I suppose I could relieve you."

"Balls, you did not just make a joke about th-that!"

Asami thumbed the lower lip and defused the outburst to a stammer. "It was as I started my takeover. He was guarding the Oyabun I was after which naturally put us at odds. I went in, he stopped me."

"Not just stopped you. You said he floored you."

"Yes, well, he was faster than me back then. It took a few minutes."

"And he stuck a gun in your face."

"Yes."

"So you're still alive because...?"

"I invited him to come work for me instead."

Akihito paused, and scoffed. "'Course you did."

"I went in because Suoh was my real objective."

"But you said you were after the Oyabun."

"I was. But Suoh was why I targeted that group when I did, he was in their employ."

Akihito drew back to look at him. "Wow, you never do anything without reasons upon reasons, huh? Does he know?"

Asami smirked. "I told him as he cocked the gun."

Akihito snorted. "As good a time as any. But he wouldn't flip that easily, would he?"

"No. And I would have retracted my offer if he had, though I was confident that he wouldn't. We'd made enough noise with our altercation that there were soon more guards, and they took me to see the Oyabun." Asami caught Akihito blinking slowly. "It's a long story, not really relevant. Do you want to rest?"

Akihito's eyes flew wide. "I'm not tired."

Too quick, too tight. Asami's sharp gaze flickered over the younger man who was carefully not looking at him.

"Very well," he said softly, his fingers soothing through the blond hair. "I told the Oyabun that he was finished unless he released Suoh from his employ. They were amused at first, seeing as they had me beat, but I'd set up three rival families against the Oyabun and he wouldn't have known how to stop them."

Akihito went to sit up, having forgotten that he couldn't, and slumped against Asami again with a grunt. But not to be deterred, he tipped his head up. "They had you beat?"

Asami paused, becoming cautious at the eager tone. "Yes...?"

"Were you tied up? Handcuffed?"

Asami's lips twitched. "Really, Akihito? Where's your mind at?"

"I – I'm just saying! I can't imagine it, is all."

Asami's hand trailed down the slim arm, his voice dropping to a husky caress. "I can assure you the circumstances were entirely different –" his skimming fingertips raised goose bumps along Akihito's wrist – "to activities you take pleasure in."

"Me?!" Akihito yelped, snatching his arm back and rubbing away the crazy sensitivity. "Don't go putting that on me, you perverted bastard, that's all you!"

"You're the one with your mind in the gutter. Next thing I know you'll be saying you want to tie me up. Do you see me in the room, Akihito?" he purred throatily. "Bound at your mercy?"

A furious blush overtook Akihito's face and he could only manage a stuttering, incoherent garble. Asami's chest shook again at that.

"You're such an ass," Akihito grumbled.

"Am I? I'm merely recalling how deliciously tormented you looked as I –"

"Aaargh!" Akihito flung an arm but he couldn't reach to clap his hand over Asami's mouth. "Not another word, oh my god how couldyousaysomethinglikethatjesusfuckingchrist!"

"That good, was it?" Asami was thoroughly amused at his expense.

"Suoh!" Akihito yelped. "Blond Tank. Big guy. You got him fired and snapped him up and the rest, as they say, is history. Good story. Very good."

Asami chuckled, finally taking pity. He let Akihito move them back on track. "It wasn't quite as easy as that. He distrusted me at first for forcibly terminating his employ, but there was a reason I'd been watching him for a while. It wasn't just his physical and strategic abilities but he also had a code I could respect."

"Honour among thieves," Akihito said, knowing Asami was full to the gills with it.

"Indeed. He came around once he saw what I was setting out to do. He's been with me ever since, come hell or high water. I can count on one hand the number of people I trust implicitly and he's one of them. "

"Wow. No wonder you two are tight. Glasses too, right?"

Asami spoke low and soft, a soothing drone. "Kirishima, I had to wait two more years for. Officially he was serving as a business advisor to a large clan but he was really the brains of their operation. He'd sworn his allegiance and he wouldn't be easily swayed, and I had no wish to act against them considering the position he held. So I waited. In the end they practically served him up on a silver platter. The Oyabun had bred like a rabbit and his every offspring was dumber than the last. One of the younger sons got trigger happy and tangled himself up in a blood feud with a powerful rival. The Oyabun served Kirishima up as a scapegoat, and that, as they say, was history. Suoh and I prevented his forced seppuku [antiquated honour suicide by knifing one's own guts] and the three of us brought both groups to heel."

"The start of a beautiful friendship," Akihito mumbled, calmed enough by Asami's voice to let himself be drowsy. "What about Kuroda?"

"I've known him since childhood. He was a 'brother' in the Shinjui-kan, a son of one of the lieutenants. Somehow we've ended up stuck together."

"Osananajimi [childhood friend]," Akihito murmured, his eyes closing, his head heavy on Asami's shoulder. "Was it your idea for him to practice law?"

Unknown to Akihito, Asami's gaze sharpened above his head. "Perhaps," he said at length. "Though of course, now that I've told you that, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Well I'll probably nod off any second now so here's your chance –" Akihito broke off for the noisiest, most melodramatic yawn Asami had ever seen. "Man, I'm beat."

Asami's gaze unerringly tracked Akihito's total lack of concern over his threat. "Hazumi, Shinji, Suoh, Kirishima. I can count them on one hand." With his arm around Akihito, Asami brushed over the smooth skin. "I used up the last finger when you came along."

Already three-quarters asleep from exhaustion, Akihito's mumbling had zero brain-to-mouth filter. "I've lotsa hands, for lotsa things. But my special hand, I only count my parents and Kou and Takato." Another yawn, even longer this time. It took an age to wind off. The blond head shuffled against Asami's shoulder. "'n' you."


Asami returned to find his secretary rooted to the foot of the bed. Kirishima's gaze was fixed on the slumbering form, a hard frown etched in the lines of his face. He looked for all the world as though he grappled with a very considerable burden.

Closing the door, Asami headed over to the table, intending to work until Kirishima was done with whatever soul-searching he was doing. Or until Asami himself felt unable to stay away, to verify with his own hands that that pulse was still beating. The cardio machine could be malfunctioning, beeping on loop, or it might be picking up on someone else's heartbeat somehow –

"I didn't see it."

Almost too low for inflection, but knowing Kirishima as well as he did, Asami could hear the strain in the quiet disclosure.

"What drew you to him. His will. His fighting spirit." Kirishima's head shook slowly. "That spirit..."

Asami found himself beside his second at the end of the bed.

Standing side by side, Kirishima continued staring at Akihito. "You knew all along."

Breathing steadily, just slightly too fast and strained to be that of easy slumber. The edge of the sterile dressings peeked out from under the sheets pulled up under Akihito's shoulders.

Asami's eyes were drawn to the streak of pink on the upper bicep. The scar looked so insignificant now, compared to everything else, but it held great meaning for him.

"Unarmed. Untrained. Scared shitless. But running on instinct he saved my life." Asami would have rolled his eyes if it wasn't such an Akihito thing to do. "By running through the crossfire."

Asami stared so hard at the shallow rise and fall of the chest that he almost convinced himself that he was imagining it.

"He's an impulsive, impudent brat," he murmured, "but there's never been a truer arrow."

Akihito didn't have a single self-centred bone in his body. Not like Asami, who'd watched him wavering on death's threshold and shamelessly monopolized him, unable to stand the thought of sharing what could have well been his last moments.

Asami sighed. "Make the call."

The secretary bowed, first to the man he lived to serve, then lower, longer, in silent apology, to Takaba.

Kirishima withdrew, a new sapling sprouting beside the giant sequoia rooted at his soul. Because he could see it as clear as day now.

The North Star in Asami's night.


Asami drifted alongside the bed, one measured step after another. His fingertips trailed across the sheets. Over the crest of Akihito's toes, the ridge of the shin, the bump of the knee.

It wasn't just that bullet. Over and over, Akihito had his back. The video, the underhanded detectives, the blackmail.

Along the thigh, the dip of the hip.

Even with his own sister, not to mention Artemis – typical of Akihito's own brand of ingenuity, really, hidden behind the carefree boisterousness. Then on top of it all...

Featherlight, from over the sheets Asami traced the swathe of bandages, the subtle bumps of neatly overlapping layers.

Hell and damnation. The storm was agitating again, rupturing the heavens and gouging the Earth, clamouring against the image on the docks that he knew would never fade. He knew because he hadn't forgotten since he was 12 years old. That same, unspeakable drop of dead weight.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories come, letting them fade. But the sensation still lingered, the untried imprint of hard metal, heavy in his younger hand. The recoil, five times, that had reverberated to the soles of his bare feet.

But this time the gun was his own and he'd barely registered its weight, as familiar as an extension of his hand. And, crucially, there had been no recoil. Because this time it was Akihito who had seen them through. Of all the reckless, outrageous, cockamamie things the brat could have done, it was probably the only thing that had saved all their lives.

Asami's fingers spread up and out, his hand flattening against Akihito's chest. A soft rise, then drop, laboured but breathing. Higher still and he pressed just enough on either side of the windpipe. The pulse steady, a little quickened as expected when recuperating like this. His fingertips trailed up, loosely framing the face.

Akihito sighed but otherwise didn't stir.

The only one Asami had ever found himself wanting to confide in. The one who, beneath any outward protests, had taken to Asami, in spite of the size of his bank account and his position in the world, not because of it. Because this fiery brat not only looked beyond what most everyone else saw, but understood, accepted, the man he was.

Asami's fierce gaze drank in the sleeping face, his voice a soft, ardent rumble. "There is no more escape for you, Takaba Akihito. I will drag you with me to the darkest ends of the abyss."

He closed his lips over Akihito's, sealing his promise.


Monday.

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck happened to you?!"

"Bro..."

Akihito grinned tightly. "You should see the other guy."

His friends approached the bed, dazed.

"I wanna hug you but you look like you might fall apart. Can I hug you?"

"No, I'm good."

"You sure you don't need –"

"Kou, for real. I'm good. Pick a chair." Akihito waved at the other side of the room with a finger.

"What the hell happened?" Takato asked again.

"Uh, they didn't tell you?" Akihito asked.

"They just said you were in hospital. But we totally knew something was up."

"We kept messaging you and you replied saying I'm indisposed."

Akihito's brows crept up. "I did?"

"We knew it wasn't you. Who the fuck talks like that, anyway?"

"So what happened!" Takato repeated.

"I can't tell you yet," Akihito said lamely. "It's uh... a police thing." He needed to get his story straight with Asami, was what.

"At least tell us it doesn't have anything to do with that huge explosion at the docks that's been all over the news all weekend." Kou had been joking but then he saw the look on Akihito's face. "It is! Shit! Fuck! Oh my god, what the fuck happened?!"

Akihito groaned, scrubbing at his face. "You gotta stop doing that. I'll tell you when I can, I just can't right now. But I'm alright, ok?"

"You're lying in bed, you, and you're saying you're alright?"

"I will be," Akihito amended. "So don't worry."

"How can we not? You look like Frankenstein!"

"Gee, thanks. There goes my dream modelling career. Anyway, help me take my mind off." He turned pointedly to Takato. "Have you found an apartment?"

Takato had, actually, but he'd barely started describing it before Kou was fidgeting like mad, bursting with news. He rolled his eyes. "Egh, go on, you idiot."

Akihito shared an amused look with him. "Lemme guess, new girlfriend?"

Kou's face split with a dreamy grin. "I've found me an older lady."

Akihito didn't know whether to be amused or worried. "What?"

Takato just rolled his eyes and went to grab two chairs.

"It's obviously working for you so I thought I'd try it," Kou told him earnestly.

"W-what?"

Kou practically glowed through his skin. "My goddess."

"Again, what?"

Takato pushed a chair at Kou before dragging the second one round to the other side of the bed. "He was totally ridiculous."

Akihito turned to him. "You met her?"

"No but I saw him just after he did. Honestly I only left him alone for ten minutes and apparently this 'goddess' asked him out. He was a goner. Even worse than you with Asami-sama –"

"– hey! –"

"– all starry-eyed and tongue-tied, it was ridiculous."

"I've never met anyone like her."

"Yeah, yeah, how many times have we heard that before?"

"I really mean it this time! She's the one."

"Oh no," Akihito and Takato both groaned.

"She's so hot."

"Oh man –"

"And classy."

"You were right –"

"And mature."

"Totally ridiculous –"

Kou sighed dreamily. "Hazumi-san."

Akihito spluttered. "What did you say?"

"Even her name's perfect."

"Did you say Hazumi-san? What's her surname?"

"Surname? I dunno."

"How can you not know! Who goes onto first names first!"

"Chill, dude. We were making conversation, not running through a list of personal data."

Hazumi was a popular name. It could be anyone. Anyone else. But Akihito couldn't help but be slightly, slightly genuinely, horrified. Because if it wasn't... "Oh, you are so screwed."

Kou was way out of his depth. And that wasn't even factoring in how Asami might react... Could it really be her? The odds were near to impossible, weren't they? Fuck, he needed a distraction from the distraction.

"Why aren't you at work anyway?" Akihito tried instead. "It's Monday, isn't it?"

"I booked compassionate leave," Takato said.

"Isn't that for bereavement? I'm still here, you know."

"I just walked out," Kou said. "I didn't even say anything to my boss."

"Baka," Takato snorted.

"But..." Kou stared at Akihito, his voice going small like he hadn't been rhapsodizing his new lady love just moments earlier. "I heard our Aki-chan's in hospital and I just..."

He looked so lost. Takato swallowed. Suddenly they both tipped towards the bed and grabbed Akihito's hand nearest to them.

"Guys..." Akihito mumbled. "Hey, I'm ok." He squeezed back, fingers tangled on both sides.

There were two sharp raps at the door before Kirishima came in. He nodded to the three men, heading over to the large table without commenting on their looking like they were in the middle of a séance.

Clearing his throat, Takato sat back. Kou let out a blustery sigh and dropped his chin on his folded arms on the bed.

Glasses seemed to be settling down to work on his tablet and phone.

"Where's Asami?" Akihito asked.

"He's indisposed."

The three friends stared at Glasses – and someone started sniggering, and before they knew it they were all laughing. Not just haha-that-was-a-good-one laughing, but proper balling-eyes, can't-even-breathe laughing. Glasses threw them an unimpressed look which only made things worse. Kou almost fell off his chair.

"I'm sorry," Akihito spluttered, clutching his side, grimacing but still in stitches. "It's not even funny but... Kou's totally whipped and... I dunno, why am I laughing?"

Glasses just shook his head and turned back to his work. Too busy wiping his eyes, Akihito didn't see the faintest smile that almost, almost, broke through the stony expression.


"Ransom."

"What about influencing some critical make-or-break deal? Or an elaborate corporate takeover where they needed IT access or something?"

Asami's face indicated he had no idea what Akihito was on about. "That's not how business takeovers work."

"I don't know, do I. That's your thing. Oh I know, how about corporate espionage?"

"It was for ransom." Asami had repeated it several times now.

He was sitting sideways on the bed, one leg bent up, the other on the floor. After his friends had left, Akihito had awoken to find Asami speaking quietly with Glasses. It seemed the secretary had been here all while Akihito had slept and waited for Asami before heading off.

"But why?"

"Why not?"

"It's boring."

"Being kidnapped for ransom is boring?"

"Yes! Money is boring. Our cover story needs more va-va-voom."

Asami arched a brow.

"Swagger? Flourish? Zing?"

"My men must have failed to inform me all this time that zing is a critical requirement of cover stories," Asami said dryly. "Besides, I already told the police."

Akihito pouted. "Damn it. I was so looking forward to something cooler to brag about," he griped, even though they both knew he wouldn't have. "But hey, why would they kidnap me if it was your money they were after?"

Asami levelled him a flat look.

Akihito's eyes widened with the flush rushing up his cheeks. "You went public with... that? This? Uh... us?"

Asami's gaze gleamed. "It's us now, is it?" he mused, making Akihito stammer and blush harder. "I only told the detectives and they're under Matsui's orders to keep it confidential." Asami smirked. "But it wouldn't bother me if we went public about... us."

"I – I wasn't suggesting anything, baka!" Akihito flustered, "I was only asking. Strictly fact finding." He squirmed against the pillows, looking everywhere but back at that heated gaze. He played with the edge of Asami's suit jacket. "Fine. Ransom it is. But it better have been some stupidly big figure with an eye-boggling load of zeros. This ass ain't cheap, you know."

"I'm well aware. I've never known anyone so exhausting."

Akihito stuck his tongue out at him. "Don't blame me for your waning stamina, old man."

Asami smirked, his finger brushing aside a stray strand of blond hair. "Well I can't let you down with lack of stamina now, can I? I'll be sure to apply myself as soon as you've recovered –"

"Hey, wait a minute –!"

"Repeatedly." Asami leaned closer. "Thoroughly." Closer still, his husky words tickling Akihito's lips. "In every way."

There were three knocks at the door. Measured and even, unfamiliar. Akihito was going to push Asami away and expected, as usual, to get nowhere. Except Asami himself swiftly pulled back. All five steps to the window. What the hell? He had no qualms sleeping alongside Akihito in front of Dr. Fujimoto and the night nurse and even some of his men, he'd never had an issue with all the embarrassing PDA until now. It actually made Akihito nervous. Who the hell could make Asami want to be so careful?

"Akihito? Akihito!"

Akihito's head snapped at the voice he knew so well, sure he must be hearing things. He gaped in shock at the last two people in the world that he expected to see rushing through the door.

"Mum?! Dad?!"