This is inspired by an "imagine your OTP" prompt. I really, really wanted to write something for Karnevalesque. This might be kind of crackish.
Prompt: Imagine your OTP at a carnival.
Credit to mizamiko here for always, always being the voice in the back of my head that warns me not to write Akari as a helpless distressed damsel.
Hirato has long been inured to his paramour's occasional ability to thwart expectations. For example, no one would guess that Akari avidly watches police procedural dramas (albeit scoffing at their woefully inadequate understanding of human anatomy). And while some acquaintances might intuit that the doctor is responsible for the many, flourishing orchids that adorn Hirato's quarters, they'd never suspect each plant has a name, lovingly bestowed upon it by its meticulous caretaker. Most certainly, not a soul knows about the doctor's rather scandalous fetishes, those involving cold leather and hot wax—the commander would destroy anyone who learned of such things, after all.
So, Hirato's pale-skinned, fae-eyed lover rarely manages to surprise him. There are times, however, when the airship captain wonders if his bedmate is as adept at wearing masks as he is. Like today.
It all started—as do so many things—with Tsukitachi.
"Take Akari-chan on a date," the red-haired captain of Airship One says, "and while you're at it, look for unusual activity amongst the carnival vendors."
Hirato shakes his head. "We don't do dates." A pause. "Furthermore, I'd never take him anywhere violence might erupt."
A thoughtful golden gaze assays the brunet. "You underestimate him."
"I protect him."
"If you say so," Tsukitachi responds in resignation. "Still, I need you to do this for me."
En route to Airship Two, Hirato wonders why he agreed to help his friend. In fact, the other captain is quickly depleting his quota of favors. Then again, it would be terribly advantageous to have the First Commander fall further in his debt. One day, Hirato will collect his due. With interest.
Getting Akari to accompany him to a carnival, though—that would require a more subtle sort of persuasion than Tsukitachi's.
This assessment is ossified as he regards his lover regarding him with not-even-marginally-concealed annoyance, thin brow quivering and hypnotic eyes narrowed to incarnadine slits.
Not good, Hirato immediately thinks, before enumerating everything he's done in the last few days to incite this seismic rage.
"How many times, Hirato?" Akari begins, voice bordering on murderous.
The captain cants his head to demonstrate attentiveness. He does not speak lest he incriminate himself.
"How many times must I tell you not to unplug the alarm clock?" the blond inquires as he stalks towards his companion like a predator, all long limbs and longer strides.
Hirato finds the doctor's threatening affect particularly adorable, but thinks better of divulging that little bit of information at present. He sighs and adopts his most concerned tone—all for effect. "You looked so exhausted last night—"
"—I believe you had something to do with that."
He can't help the smirk forming on his lips. "Well, I figured since I put you to sleep the least I could do is let you sleep."
Akari's patience snaps. "Get out! Get out now, you bastard!" he roars. Years ago the order would have been issued with the perennial 'I hate you' appended. These days it's—"You're not getting any for a month!"
So lovely. Hirato nimbly dodges a flying rack of test tubes. It narrowly misses and glass shatters against the wall in a delicate, chiming percussion. Typically, this sort of...banter? teasing? foreplay? is met with unmitigated glee on his part, but today, there's something weary in Akari's eyes, a slight languor in his shoulders. It's rare for the SSS-ranked genius to be visibly tired. As such, Hirato strides forward and brackets the blond's hips, burying his face in the crook his neck. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, Akari." He means it this time, and thankfully, his lover can read his sincerity with consummate acuity. "You work too hard, you know. Why don't you take the evening off, hmmm?"
"I have lab reports to file," Akari answers softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll see you tonight."
Hirato, on the other hand, grins in victory. It's almost too easy. "You'll have some free time if I help you with the reports, right?"
Hours later, the two are walking through a veritable sea of unsteady-looking booths. Tents pitched with lurid mis-matched fabrics line either side of a narrow, winding path—the faded gold and silver of their threads sparkling dully as the light catches. The night air is cool and undeniably refreshing, and the warm glow of paper lanterns strung high above seems to have allayed much of Akari's earlier irritation. Hirato notices how the back of his companion's hand brushes against his—never obviously, of course. Akari isn't the effusive sort. Nevertheless, the fleeting contact sears his skin as his imagination whirls wildly with thoughts of the evening's dénouement.
Having determined that there are no threats amongst the vendors, he stops in front of a game stall, one wherein the player must shoot three moving targets to win a prize—a plushie Nyanperona, ironically enough.
"Nai might like one of these, don't you think?" Hirato asks. "Or I could win you one, my dear doctor…" He snickers at the mental image of a prickly blond carrying said monstrosity home.
"I have no need of children's toys," Akari huffs, "….or guilt-driven consolations."
"Are you still angry about the alarm clock?"
In lieu of replying, Akari leans forward and picks up the dart gun. He squares himself up in a textbook isosceles stance, one ruby orb gazing unflinchingly through the sight. Without so much as a blink's hesitation, the researcher fires off five rounds in rapid succession. When he's finished, all of the targets have toppled over.
Hirato doesn't sputter exactly, but he does take several moments to gather his scattered wits. "How did you—"
"What I'm angry about is your incomprehensible need to infantilize me," Akari interrupts, taking the proffered prize from the vendor and stuffing it into a nondescript paper bag.
The captain clears his throat and resumes his trademark nonchalance (although he remains a trace disquieted... not fearful, of course, just uneasy). He also makes note to rid his home of any sharp objects easily converted into projectile weapons. "I see."
"Never unplug the alarm clock again," the doctor commands with finality.
And Hirato knows then that despite his best efforts, he'll never discover all of Akari's secrets. Even so, he's prepared to spend a lifetime trying.