NB: Fill for the following prompt from a requester preferring anonymity: "Hirato and Akari go on a date. What happens?"
The first time Hirato invites Akari on a date, the researcher appears reluctant. He acquiesces nonetheless.
Hirato's not convinced either, but they've been involved for nearly a year. Perhaps a date is overdue. And while he's not remotely unsatisfied with the physical aspect of their relationship, he feels a trace of obligation. Akari is important, he reasons—more important than the nameless, faceless others who've shared his bed. His belated preoccupation with romance is simply a means of demonstrating this. It has nothing to do with the doctor's history and the doubtless enchanting, charismatic, and damnably brilliant professor who haunts that history.
Circus' second captain isn't usually given to such hyperbolic imaginings. He blames the acute lack of rationality on his atypically frustrating lover.
They dine in Vantnam. Hirato selects a cozy restaurant in the old town. The lights are dim, the patrons' chatter soft and surprisingly relaxing, classical music floats melodiously, and the wine is exceptional. It's an immaculate choice on the commander's part. Even so, conversation is forced and rarely strays afield of idle exchange. Defense agency members cannot discuss work freely, after all, and any talk of their relationship seems taboo outside the bedroom.
The brunet considers consigning the evening to failure. Then again, he misses how opaline eyes linger hungrily on deft hands as he signs the check.
After leaving, Hirato interlaces their fingers, completely ignoring the inquisitive quirk of a light brow. "So, my dear doctor, where would you like to go next?"
"We're still performing this farce? Dinner was a waste of time." Akari isn't ungrateful; there's playfulness in his tone that only a companion would perceive.
Hirato chuckles affably and continues pulling him along. "I wouldn't say that. The food was excellent."
"I hadn't noticed."
The captain's attention wavers as he endeavors to salvage their night. "Oh? Why not?" he inquires distractedly.
It's Akari's turn to smirk. "Because I spent the last hour wondering what it would take to divest you of your clothes."
Not much is the answer. Not much at all, in fact.
Well after midnight, a sated physician broaches the topic of dates again. His heated murmur tickles the back of Hirato's neck. "Listen you sly bastard, I know you wear masks, even with me..."
"You're—" the brunet conciliates, but an arm slips over his shoulders. The pad of Akari's thumb comes to rest against his mouth, effecting silence.
"Let me finish." Curved lips glide across recently over-stimulated skin, sending minute sparks of pleasure racing through Hirato's body. He smiles. When did Akari start using my own tricks against me? The researcher's whisper issues forth between grazes of teeth along the shell of an ear. "Don't you think the Don Juan trope is unforgivably trite for a man of your caliber?" A sharp bite, followed by a soothing lick. "Be whoever you like, whenever you like. But remember that I want you like this."
Dates are pointless, Hirato concludes. It's fortunate, really. He's entirely too covetous of Akari to share him with the world.