(you can pm me here or on plurk if you'd like to beforehand, but also if you'd just like to drop something at my doorstep with no preamble please do!!)
[ The first time Maruki made him genuinely laugh, sudden and unexpected and shocking to both of them, and the floodgates it opened for jokes and taunts.
Akechi's birthday, a quiet affair in the apartment, the best takeaway sushi they could afford and back to back horror movies that scared the shit out of Maruki and delighted Akechi.
Weekend mornings when they still haven't slept from the night before, walking back to the shoebox apartment near sunrise with all of their Metaverse wounds healed. The strange mix of utter exhaustion and searing adrenaline that makes it impossible to go straight to bed, so they sit out on the cramped balcony, two cups of coffee and very little conversation, watching the city come to life.
Late nights spent in the laundromat, leaning back on the shitty folding chairs with their feet kicked up on the machines, reading or napping or showing each other stupid posts from the Phansite or Reddit or 2chan on their phones.
The one time Akechi pushed himself to the brink of too far, slivered himself down to the very last of his health in the throes of chaos and took an unexpectedly brutal hit. Maruki had hauled him out of that fight, through the winding halls of that labyrinth of a palace, shoved him into a safe room to heal him to the best of Azathoth's ability. Sat with him as he regained his strength, silently furious and beyond terrified to have seen his partner fall like that. They never talked about it, but the next day Akechi bought him lunch, and it was their last close call. Over a year ago.
February 3rd, twice now, the one day they don't focus at all on their work. He told Akechi early on, the broad strokes of what drives him, and then many months later in a bath house, the full details. Last year, waking up to an empty apartment and a text from Akechi: My apologies, I forgot to inform you of my class trip today. I won't be back until very late this evening. I invite you to take the day to rest before our next infiltration. And this year, just a few months ago, an insistent invitation to Jazz Jin – unnecessary, given how often they end up there without discussion anyway – and a quietly shared story about his own driving loss.
Countless meals, games of darts or billiards or chess, research binges, philosophical discussions, subway rides, shared silent looks over news of the Phantom Thieves' latest exploits, crosswords, theories exchanged and tested and reworked, movies argued through, wounds tended, idle thoughts shared. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Akechi's birthday, a quiet affair in the apartment, the best takeaway sushi they could afford and back to back horror movies that scared the shit out of Maruki and delighted Akechi.
Weekend mornings when they still haven't slept from the night before, walking back to the shoebox apartment near sunrise with all of their Metaverse wounds healed. The strange mix of utter exhaustion and searing adrenaline that makes it impossible to go straight to bed, so they sit out on the cramped balcony, two cups of coffee and very little conversation, watching the city come to life.
Late nights spent in the laundromat, leaning back on the shitty folding chairs with their feet kicked up on the machines, reading or napping or showing each other stupid posts from the Phansite or Reddit or 2chan on their phones.
The one time Akechi pushed himself to the brink of too far, slivered himself down to the very last of his health in the throes of chaos and took an unexpectedly brutal hit. Maruki had hauled him out of that fight, through the winding halls of that labyrinth of a palace, shoved him into a safe room to heal him to the best of Azathoth's ability. Sat with him as he regained his strength, silently furious and beyond terrified to have seen his partner fall like that. They never talked about it, but the next day Akechi bought him lunch, and it was their last close call. Over a year ago.
February 3rd, twice now, the one day they don't focus at all on their work. He told Akechi early on, the broad strokes of what drives him, and then many months later in a bath house, the full details. Last year, waking up to an empty apartment and a text from Akechi: My apologies, I forgot to inform you of my class trip today. I won't be back until very late this evening. I invite you to take the day to rest before our next infiltration. And this year, just a few months ago, an insistent invitation to Jazz Jin – unnecessary, given how often they end up there without discussion anyway – and a quietly shared story about his own driving loss.
Countless meals, games of darts or billiards or chess, research binges, philosophical discussions, subway rides, shared silent looks over news of the Phantom Thieves' latest exploits, crosswords, theories exchanged and tested and reworked, movies argued through, wounds tended, idle thoughts shared. ]