windfall | light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

[ Knocking. The roar of ammunition fire in his ears. Blasts of heat and debris sticking to his face, dust crusting in his eyes. A delirious and delicious taste, sweet red like pomegranate, like Aki's skin scraping open in his mouth.

Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.

Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.

No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."

Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.

Naturally, Denji had followed.

It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.

But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?

And then he'd froze.

"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."

Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.

"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"

She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.

In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…

Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.

Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Denji's thighs close together as he feels Aki remove himself, a pinkish blood-come mixture dribbling down the crevice between. It doesn't really matter to him if Aki gets soaked by it, but it feels like such a waste for it all to go draining out of him already, hollowing him. Maybe he should cup his hand under and see if he can lap up whatever falls out…?

However, he makes no move to do that. Lets himself indulge in the petting, his eyes drawing closed again as Aki shifts him closer to his neck, his lips pressing gingerly into the crusting wound. Obviously, Denji doesn't notice the glimmering bullet pass back into Aki's possession. Though if he did, he probably wouldn't have been able to do anything about his plans, not even kick up a fuss. ]

Mm…

[ In a stark contrast from the way he'd mauled his throat earlier, now he's almost no different from a kitten flicking its tongue at a bowl of water for the first time. Docile. Like if Aki decided to roll him off completely, he'd probably just lay there groaning. ]

Aki. [ He draws back a few increments, looking up at him. ] …I don't think we're gonna make it home tonight. Should we find a hotel?

[When Denji finally leans back, Aki looks down at him. The idea of going to a hotel instead of stumbling all the way home is nice, but... Well, there's one main issue he can think of.]

We look like shit, though. [Aki has a good, solid stain on his body and Denji is... missing his jacket, he supposes. That's kind of it, though, aside from the general rain and sweat that's drenched them. Suddenly, a second thing comes to mind - ] And what about the devil? [Denji said she might be around here. Is it really okay to just leave her for the night...?]

[He's kind of making excuses, though. If they clean up in the bathroom here they'll just look waterlogged, not like they've been killing stuff and fucking in public. If Denji has a way to contact the devil, then it's not an issue. His eyes drift behind him to where his hand is, the gun chunk in his palm. The knowledge that, beyond the indescribable desire to eat it, he also needs to report it. Should contact his retainers as soon as possible. That they might want it for research or to find more rather than letting Aki have it.]

[No way, his mind shoots out immediately. No way, no way, no way. Like a child refusing to give up a toy or a dog guarding its food bowl. No way is anyone else going to touch it.]

...There's probably a love hotel we can rent until morning. [No one will ask questions at a business like that. They're in Kabukicho, so there's bound to be a number of them.]

A l-love hotel…

[ Can you see the sparkle in his eyes, Aki? Because, in 1… 2… 3… ]

[ With the solemn commitment of a soldier fastening the drawstrings of his boots, readying for a military procession: ] Welp, guess we have no other choice. I bet there's a phone or something in this place. I'll check if Nayuta's back home already.

[ It's not as if he plans on having sex with Aki again so soon, but this is Denji. It'd be stranger if he didn't find any excitement in visiting a love hotel — they're like mythical castles in the sky to him! His knees begin to maneuver out from their arrangement, but a funny thought strikes in the midway, the kind that probably should have occurred to him earlier, and he pauses. Raises an arm to Aki, close enough to his mouth that all he'd need to do is arch his neck forward to bite down. ]

You need this, right?

[ Denji's better after drinking from him. The marks on his skin from where Aki spilled his blood have faded, for the most part, no more obvious than a faint bruise. Probably, underneath all the red drying around his mouth, his split lip, too, has healed. It's just Aki who needs to be taken care of. ]

There's a phone at the...

[He trails off when Denji offers his arm out, the sudden shine of skin displayed before him, obvious in its intention. He could bite him again. But then would Denji still be hurt? Aki glances from the arm to his eyes, brow going tight.]

...It's fine. [He carefully pushes at him, aiming to dislodge him from where he sits and finally stand up. He presses his palm over his neck and feels the missing skin. In his other he holds the bullet with fingers tight around it.]

You gave me plenty before. It'll patch up in a minute.

[Gathering his clothes, he helps Denji to the bathroom first, tells him to clean himself up, but he's going to look for something to clean the floor with. While he's occupied, returning to the door where their mess is spilled, he ignores that as he looks down at the pellet in his palm, the meat-textured bullet, the dark grey flesh. Almost like he's shaking himself out of a trance, he starts to push it back into his pocket before thinking better of it. The longer he holds it, the more likely he is to drop it, he tells himself. Or for Denji to talk him out of it. Or for someone else to find out. To take it away from him.]

[He swallows it like a pill, cool down his throat and smooth despite the veins and bumps. It barely gets down him when he feels his heart thump like a rifle shot. He takes in a sharp breath, clutching at his heart as he starts coughing, too much oxygen sucked in at once, not enough blood to store it. It bubbles up to meet the demand and suddenly it's all rushing through him, a tidal wave of blood, air, carnage. He presses his other hand over his eyes and feels his teeth chatter. Too much. Way too much. He can barely breathe. There's too much air in his lungs. When he can finally cough it all out, it almost makes him double over.]

[The good thing is that every wound is stitched up like new. Stumbling to his feet, he walks like he's drunk to the bar table to grab for tissues so he can wipe up the mess. And... all the drool that rolled down his chin for some reason. That, too.]

Denji? [He calls out for him. Act normal. He looks and feels buzzed, like he just took a hit of a drug, but he tells himself checking on Denji will make him actually seem totally normal right now.]

[ Once Aki leaves him to it, cleaning takes no time at all. He scrubs every corner of himself with hand soap and water, the blood stains washing from his skin and dripping into the sink until the face in the mirror is finally recognizable again. Human again. It's as natural as how it feels every time his transformation ends, the remnants of Chainsaw Man dissolving, dissipating down his jaw, like shedding dead follicles. He eventually moves on to wiping down his thighs with a damp paper towel, pressing gingerly into himself. Honestly, he's not sure how else he's supposed to clean down there. Maybe he should try squeezing down and see how much comes out? But he's still kinda tender…

Deciding that he can figure out what to do when he takes an actual bath, which is hopefully sometime soon, he disposes of the towels and starts to slip on his clothes from the pile he brought inside the restroom with him. When he hears Aki calling his name, he antes up his pace, yelling back through the door. ]

Almost done! One sec.

[ Denji darts one last look at himself in the mirror, making sure he didn't miss any specks of red, and then heads out. He clocks the corded landline right beside the register on his way back to the bar top. Noticing that the mess still looks the same as when he left, he blinks, but perhaps wisely, doesn't comment on the state of things, instead moving to Aki's side. A steadying hand laying against his wrist. He tilts his head so that neither his face nor the concern tarnishing it can be ignored once he enters his view. ]

Woah there. You… look sick. [ The back of his other hand moves up, patting gently at the side of his face. ] What happened?

[Shit. Does he look that messed up? Aki shakes his head, batting away Denji's hand as he clears his throat.]

I'm fine. Just a headrush. You know. [Nothing to worry about, he hopes is the implication that comes across. He leans down to start cleaning up the mess to avoid letting Denji examine him too close. His heart is still rushing.] You look better - Cleaner. I saw the phone, it's over there. You can give her a call.

[Something else to distract him with. He needs to clean up, himself, but that's going to be a little trickier. Not only is his clothing stained with who-knows-what, but he smells like it, too. The scent of blood is dripping off of him. He badly needs to wash off. Gathering them up once the floors and walls are clean, he heads to the bathroom to try and rinse off the gore as well, though after awhile he's more or less rubbing it into the cotton. Annoying. Maybe the love hotel will have an extra shirt he can use. Do they have merch at those...?]

[When he comes back, his face has a bit better color to it, but the clothes he pulled on are sticking to his body like a second skin.]

Let's get going. We'll get sick if we stay like this.

[ Aki bats him off and, well, that's not so different from how he usually is. Denji lingers indecisively after he's spurred on to make his phone call, a gut feeling telling him to stick around, but his greater instinct to comply, to trust Aki, eventually prevails.

There's disapproval couched in each one-line retort Nayuta gives him, but that's still a grade above the fit of rage he was expecting. No doubt due to the fact that Denji spent most of the day with her, even submitting to her demands to step back into the ensemble of Chainsaw Man. There's no looking past it: She won today, and she'd skipped back home just in time to catch her favorite cartoon broadcasting. He tells her stuff like they'll be back home sometime tomorrow with something to eat, and that since it's the weekend, she can sleep in if she wants — but, oh, probably not too late because the dogs will get whiny if they aren't fed at their usual time.

By the time he hangs up, he feels a little more like an adult. Which is good, in a way. That means he's gradually catching up to Aki. ]

Oh, okay.

[ Denji moves to join Aki by the the door, pushing it open. The rain is still pelting down — he can't really tell if it's lighter or not, but regardless, it doesn't really matter. They'll be getting wet again. A flash of lightning pulses, veining through the sky. He's pretty sure he saw a love hotel sign up ahead just now. He looks back at Aki again, concern making its reappearance on his face in how he fidgets with the door handle, tapping against the brass. ]

I think we should run for it.

[ His hand searches out Aki's, snugly entwining with his the moment he does, as if he's afraid he might lose him on the way there. Then, he tugs them forward, back into the storm. ]

[Aki looks at him when Denji reaches down to grab his hand, but he's still a little shocked when he gets suddenly tugged forward into the heavy rain. He follows without trying to stop him, the rush not the same as the one from earlier, when the opposite of this happened. Where he felt like he was running for his life before and yanking Denji wiht him, now it feels like he's running toward something greater alongside him. It's to a shitty love hotel, sure, but it's still better than nothing, and once they come inside the building with its plush-looking exterior to hide how cheap the interior is, they're the only ones, dripping a puddle on the floor. A clerk window is across the lobby and Aki makes his way to it, wiping his brow with his equally drenched sleeve like it even matters as he greets the clerk who barely looks his way.]

[He books the room for twelve hours, signing a few forms and motioning Denji to stay close to him until he's finally given a key and pointed down the hallway to a vacant room. It seems empty here, which is relieving, and possibly expected given how the weather ended up. It doesn't really look seedy or unimpressive by any stretch, but it still feels like the sort of place someone put a fresh coat of paint over to hide scratches and knicks yet it ends up highlighing them even more. The room they rent is much the same: mostly red and beige with a bathroom, a small drink cabinet, and some nondescript packages on the nightstands that Aki assumes are mostly lube and condoms.]

[Aki takes his shirt off and starts on his pants. The wound on his neck is completely gone, like Denji didn't even knick him with his fingernail. He drapes them over the towel rack in the bathroom and tells Denji to do the same.]

You wash off first - I need something to drink.

[He realizes he's beyond grateful that Denji's uniform jacket got lost somewhere. He looks young, sure, but not so young they couldn't write him off as eighteen.]

[ With the glee of a puppy wondering at snow for the first time, Denji capers around the room, doing exactly would probably be expected of him: opening and closing drawers, sniffing through the welcome amenities, assessing the yield of the loveseat, exclaiming in awe when he probes around the bathroom and presses a switch that suddenly causes red neon lights to emit from the tub — man! Finally some good tidings. Love hotels really are everything and more than he could ever dream of. If only he knew this place was so close by earlier, they should've gone here to begin with. ]

M'kaaay.

[ His voice answers back, setting down a bar of soap he'd been pressing into his nose, despite "non-scented" being printed on the packaging. Don't mind him. A twist of the spigot, and the bath begins filling with warm, steaming water. He'll get in there after he does a more formal cleaning using the shower head. One by one, his clothes contributes to the growing pile on the towel rack, not even hanging properly, just kinda stuffed between the rails. He's testing the temperature of the water when, suddenly, as if struck by a belated realization, he's clambering to stick his head out of the bathroom. ]

— wait, you're gonna drink now? [ And therefore excuse himself from bathing with Denji. Obviously, he's pouting about it. ] You coulda just gotten something at the bar before…

[ Granted, that would have been stealing. But they were already trespassing, anyway.

He checks over at the bath real quick to make sure it isn't overflowing before allowing himself to dally a little longer at the door frame, the side of his shoulder hitting against it. His arms cross as he blatantly scopes out Aki's state of undress — not really lecherously, as evident by his next few words. ]

…Hey, I didn't notice it back there, but… you healed up pretty quick.

[At the bar...? They broke in and fucked on a wall in there, Aki is definitely not going to extend their criminal proceedings by stealing as well. He pulls out a bottle of water and downs half of it while Denji checks on the tub, then exhales heavily when he lowers it. He can feel rainwater dripping down his chest.]

[When Denji speaks again, he looks up.]

...Yeah. I guess so.

[He still feels unusually wired, like electricity is buzzing through every nerve in his body. Aki crosses the room and tosses the bottle toward Denji for him to drink, as well.]

I'm still not used to this stuff, I guess. [His hand took a full night to heal after Denji chomped it, so he knows it's suspicious that the neck that he tore through should be just as, if not longer. But something tells him not to tell Denji the truth. That he'll fret and worry and be annoying about it. He doesn't want to deal with it. Would rather enjoy the strange heat running through him even as goosebumps sprout on his skin. He passes him into the bathroom, glancing at the tub as it still gradually fills before pointing him to the shower head on the wall.]

Come on. [He pulls off his boxers, tossing them toward the hook on the wall. Maybe some warm water will help.]

[ All Denji does is lazily raise a curled hand, the bottle hitting its mark with no issue as he spins on his heel to follow closely after him, the door shutting behind the two of them. Uncapping the bottle, he takes a quick swig — which, of course, nearly empties the rest of the contents inside. He really doesn't know when to stop. ]

Well…

[ It's not that he doesn't notice a single thing out of the ordinary about Aki. He can tell his current disposition is different from his usual, that he's being somewhat standoffish, but… that probably has to do with that plant devil. What was it again? Something about effects on a human can last for up to six hours after dying? Whatever the case, the bottle gets put aside, as do whatever questions he may have regarding Aki's healing rate. Not counting all the other times these past few days, Aki's told him once tonight already that he's bad at reading the mood. Denji can live without being given crap about it a second time. ]

Alright.

[ Condensation films every surface of the bathroom as they step in, humid air hanging densely inside. Not heading for the shower head immediately, Denji pause by the tub, leaning over the edge to twist the faucet, the rush of water into the tub trickling to a full stop. He fiercely waves a hand over, motioning at Aki to come toward him. ]

Hey, hey, wanna see something? [ Rhetorical question. He taps at the side controls of the tub and boom — mood lighting blooms from the bottom. Ha ha! ] It's red! Cool, right?

[ It really isn't that impressive. But Denji's amused by it. ]

[Aki watches Denji eagerly turn on the mood light for the tub, his eyes briefly widening as he realizes something that's particularly depressing to him in that moment: He doesn't know anyone else who would get that excited over mood lighting.]

[...But that was always Denji's way, wasn't it. Even after everything he went through, he's still excited by something as simple as a red glow in a tub. Aki stares at it for a moment, digesting that thought.]

...Yeah. [He picks up the shower handle and turns on the spray, splashing the water on his hand to check the temperature.] Usually those kinds of things have other colors, you know.

[But he isn't about to try and find the remote to change that. The spray is still chilly but he rinses his head down, letting the crap and grime slide down his back and all the dust descend into a slightly dark river by his feet. His heart is still racing, still excited and over-amped. He wipes a hand over his eyes to shed the water and looks toward Denji again.] Have you ever stayed in a hotel before? Other than the one up north. [He means a western hotel anyway, not a ryokan.]

Oh. [ Suddenly, the lights cycle through pink, blue, green, then back again. He accidentally presses something in the midst his unrestrained tapping that starts the jets in the tub, taking him by surprise, his hand slamming down to turn it off on reflex. …Anyway, once he's finished playing with the controls, he turns a few degrees to watch Aki wash off — and inexplicably, stands, moving to reach past Aki and dispense shampoo into his hands. ] Umm, I stayed in that hotel with you all for that one annoying devil.

[ He slept pretty good back then. Until Kobeni tried to stab his guts and sacrifice him. Oh, and he stayed in a house devil one time with Power, too, but that doesn't count, does it? ]

If I stayed anywhere for a mission, it wasn't really for fun — [ Well, they aren't exactly here for fun right now, either. Semantics. ] I mean, you know how it is. [ He rubs his hands together, ensuring that each palm is uniformly lathered, then raises them both up to Aki's hair. ] Lean down.

[ It makes no difference whether Aki acquiesces to the request or not; Denji's treating his scalp to a massage, like it or not, scrubbing gently at his roots before working the suds partway through his hair. He gives any hardened strands a firm rubdown, shaking the gunk from his fingers to join the swill of dirt and whatever else flushing down.

He pauses, like he's about to say something he might regret and he's giving himself the chance to turn back, but it's too late. He's already all in. ]

…You know, there was this one time I went back up north. Tried taking Nayuta, like, to visit your family grave. [ Should he be admitting this? Probably not, right? Self-consciousness pulses through him, makes the movements of his hands a little awkward and strained. ] It went pretty shitty… The ferry ride made her sick. We lost our luggage. She forced the bus driver to throw up as punishment and called me lame when I told her to stop it — it was funny, though. But we couldn't afford the place we stayed at back with the three of us, so we wound up getting taken in by this old dude. He was weird and his breath stunk like old cig tar, but Nayuta liked him 'cause he reminded her of scarface. [ Kishibe is who he's referring to. ] The whole time I kept thinkin' about how I was botching crap up when I just wanted to introduce her to you. [ … ] Somehow, it was kinda nice, despite everything.

[ The reason his face is burning is because of this stupid steam, he thinks, hands withdrawing from his hair to let Aki rinse himself if he so chooses to. ]

But, uh, yeah. That's it. [ Then, breezily, like he's not asking a confidential question: ] So where did you stay? When you were gone.

Edited (i keep adding things pls 4give me...) 2023-10-10 05:19 (UTC)

[It's good that Denji has decided to wash his hair, because it means Aki doesn't have to look at him as he tells his story. A story that, he realizes, he never wanted to hear. He knows about his own mourning period and how he coped. He never thought about how Denji might have mourned, once he found he was alive. What about the others? he wants to ask. What about Power? Did he lump that in with the grave visit up north? How did he remember where to go? How did the grave look? Did he wipe off the snow and leaves, light some incense, leave some offerings? Did his family know who he was? Did they know what he was doing? ...And what did that devil think, being brought to a cemetery halfway across the country?]

[He blinks out of his minor stupor when Denji asks where he was, over the year. Definitely not visiting cemeteries, that's for sure. He reaches for the shower head to rinse the soap from his hair and avoid speaking for a moment.]

All over the place, I guess.

[He doesn't remember where he stayed some days because he didn't ask many questions. It was obvious when they were in larger cities but any smaller villages blended together. Accents could have helped but he didn't speak to anyone. Aki sets the shower head down and pushes his hair from his eyes, finally raising them to look at Denji head-on.]

You really visited me?

[Even though he wasn't there. Denji was emotional enough about his death that he went to see his spiritual resting place.]

[He lowers his eyes, bringing his hands up to squeeze the water from his hair.]

When I first turned... I felt like I was a child again. Playing in the snow back home. [He could reach out to grab some shampoo and do the same for Denji, clean him off and get him ready to sit in the fancy tub. But the words tumble out of him, like Denji just dislodged a stick that held the weight of the dam, and he stands still while he speaks.] I remember seeing my little brother and wanting to go over there. He was calling for me - But I felt trapped in place.

[He doesn't mention the rest of it. Playing with Denji and Power, the other people he half recognized from passing them on the street. He doesn't mention how Denji cried, pelting him with snowballs as Aki dropped into the snow and gave up for him. Something to get him to quit crying, like he did with Taiyou when he was a sore loser. Dropped the ball and declared himself struck out. He doesn't want to tell Denji about that.]

Maybe that's where I would have gone. Back up north.

[He almost sounds like he wishes it was the case now.]

[ There's more Denji could say, like how he hadn't really gone to pay his tributes or participate in something as hackneyed as tradition…

He'd gone to see him, to find him, that as implausible as it sounds, he'd hoped that standing there as stoic as a statue or a tombstone would be the paper-thin cut-out of his figure. And that as soon as they reunited, they would team up to find a passage to hell and pull Power out from whatever hiding place, whatever trap door she'd concealed herself inside. She was always so good at running away, it makes sense that it'd take the two of them to find her.

So he waited and waited, ignoring Nayuta's inquisitive gaze, and tried to do what he thought Aki would want him to — because wouldn't that be a surprise for him? To walk and see Denji, of all people, cleaning; Denji, setting aside some orange slices and onigiri, as well as the less traditional crab legs they'd stuffed into their pockets from dinner the night prior, and okay, admittedly taking a break to eat some of the offerings; Denji, with his hands clapped together as he prayed, one eye opened to keep a lookout for someone, anyone, to walk out from the fog, touch their hand to the crown of his head, and tell him he did well. He did his best.

What Denji does instead is reach for the conditioner, squeezing the agent, milkier than the last, into his hands. Applies it to the ends of Aki's hair once it's thoroughly wrung dry, running his fingers through, carefully undoing any tangles he manages to feel out, the way he does whenever he helps Nayuta. ]

We should go again. [ Said as if it's only logical that Denji come along with him, as if it's a possibility within the same reach as Aki's hair spilling through his fingers, his angular knuckles brushing his collarbone. As if Aki still isn't trapped in place. ] If he was callin' for you, maybe there's something there waiting.

[Even through this conversation, he can feel his heart pumping hard in his neck, digesting what he fed his body, trying to process it. It doesn't hurt, not like a growth spurt where your legs ache as they grow. It feels like suddenly putting on a shirt that first for the first time. He stands still as Denji rubs conditioner into his hair and wants to ask, When did you learn that? The guy who was so pumped to take a hot bath when he first came to his apartment, now gently massaging shampoo into the strands of his hair.]

[...He shakes his head gently.]

I don't want them to see me like this.

[Housing the very entity that he swore he'd destroy. The very entity that he let destroy them. Aki can't face them while he's still living inside of him.]

[Once the conditioner is rinsed he turns the shower to Denji, washing him down and letting his grime run down the same drain his did. He's not nearly as disgusting, he thinks, but the dust is like a thin film over his entire skin that he has to run his soapy hand along to coax into flowing off with the water. Sweat, dust, grime, blood. It all goes down the drain until he can turn it on his hair, wash that down too. It allows him to think something he never bothered to ask before, though the question always sat in the back of his mind.]

Have you ever visited your family? Wherever they are.

[ Denji peers at Aki through his dripping bangs and muses, privately, that what he sees isn't so bad. Not a treachery nor a reminder but a body the same as his. One that can endure the cut of steel through bone, teeth through flesh, that may pulse unnaturally with the heart of devil — but the shoulder that his forehead rests gingerly upon is alive, the fingertips wearing away at the waxy residue on Denji's skin are warm. He likes what he sees and his family would, too. He's secure in that belief, but, maybe, that's not the point and, maybe, Aki would hate hearing him say as much…

Before he realizes it, his arms have slowly hugged around his waist, tugging him close, his cheek rubbing needily at Aki. Canine logic, like needling him with affection might ease the intangible troubles on his mind. ]

…Not really. Not much to visit, if ya know what I mean. My folks are — well, my old man is just a cross in the ground. [ By himself, no family plot or anything. If Denji ever actually manages to die for good one of these days, that's probably how his will look. ] Never figured out where my mom's grave is.

[ He heard in passing a while back that her name was engraved in a plot reserved for family on her side, that his dad's relationship with his in-laws was tenuous at best and this probably contributed to his alcoholism. If Denji went back and scoured through public records, he could probably find out her maiden name and visit her. But that thought's never entered his mind. ]

[Denji rubs against him and wraps around his waist and now he can probably feel how hard his heart is pumping, like he just downed two cups of coffee. It doesn't erase his thoughts or his general feelings about his current situation, but the longer Denji leans into him as he speaks, the vibration of his voice echoing up his chest as his hands run pointlessly over his back to remove whatever traces of dirt are left, he can at least file them away for the time being. Think about them later.]

[That his family doesn't have an actual grave marker isn't too surprising, given Denji's status when he first met him. Not even educated enough to know what a fiend was. Still, regardless of how early they died in his life, it's disappointing to hear. He's never mentioned anything about going back to visit and he doesn't sound very interested now. Should he have brought it up, back then?]

[He finally pushes him forward so he can dislodge him, motioning him toward the bath. It's actually large enough for the two of them (probably on purpose) but with how high Denji has filled it, he can tell it will overflow when they both get it.]

Go ahead - climb in. [He, himself, is going to down the rest of the water, trying to will his heart to calm down a little. Just feeling his skin against him was enough to make it beat even faster, stupidly. As if he didn't fuck him twice in a row just now. ...Wait a - ] Did you clean out?

[For some reason he just assumes he did, back in the bar. But this is Denji. He probably doesn't know how. He sets the water down and wipes his lips, motioning him over suddenly, nixing his previous order to get in the tub, his movements a little erratic.] Come here. I can help.

[ He doesn't know how, but Denji does get the feeling that there's a strange lucidity to Aki as he's pushed away. A clarity that wasn't there before when they were both sloshing their way through the deepest congestion of the spore's effects — maybe it's because the symptoms are weakening? His own head is lighter, at any rate. Perhaps not all the way cleared of the cynicism that'd drained their senses earlier, but at the very least, when Aki encourages him to step into the tub, Denji doesn't question it, doesn't feel like his touch is being rejected in favor of the absence of it.

Giving his waist a last squeeze, he lets go. As soon as he's reached the tub and started toeing over, though, he's… being called back? ]

Oh, I was just gonna leave it. [ He kinda figured it would come out on its own when he used the bidet, but if there's another way and if Aki's willing to do some tutoring, then say no more. ] But, huh, okay… Teach me what to do. [ Steps taking him back to his side, Denji attaches to him again with a readiness, toothily grinning up at him. ] Senpai.

[ He says it like a joke, as if they both know that the respect associated with the title is moot here. ]

[Why is he a senpai for this. Is he his ass-cleaning senpai?? Post-sex care senpai??? Aki stares at him with a degree of annoyance for the term.]

[Of course he refuses to use the term when it actually matters and only does now when it doesn't... Aki leans down and settles on one knee, one hand going around Denji's waist as the other reaches for some tissues from the sink.]

It's just... sometimes it comes out unexpectedly. I don't want you to do it in the tub. [This is so gross. He's never had to teach someone how to do this. He reaches between his legs and prods gently at his hole before pressing two fingers inside, scraping gently at him.] Just relax. It's easier to do it when you're standing up.

[ As far as Denji's concerned, Aki is his senpai in everything. In this specific context, he's definitely his come maid senpai, though. Or some other silly discipline he would hate to be his senpai in.

But, um, anyway, this position is sure… interesting…

Interesting enough to wrest the playful lilt of senpai from his lips, replacing it with — ]

Aki?!

[ Squeaking, Denji's hips jerk away at that first contact, not expecting Aki to actually be groping inside him for this, no matter how gently. He'd visualized an explanation, maybe even a real-time demonstration involving Aki spreading his own cheeks and showing him the best way to angle his fingers in to mop up the mess. Him doing it for him, and having such an up-close and personal view to boot, is objectively the most embarrassing approach to this, even if it's allegedly the easiest.

With a fwoo of air, Denji tries to loosen his muscles, a hand squeezed at his shoulder to maintain his balance as the first few swipes are drawn away from his hole. The next time he makes eye contact with him, his mouth is sulkily pursed together. ]

Thanks for telling me to relax after you've already stuck your fingers in there…

[...Right, yeah, he should have said something first. Aki glances up at him when he startles and yelps, then... stares for a moment too long as he mutters his complaint at him, lips pulled together tight in a pout like that. He tears them away after a moment and focuses back on the matter at hand.]

Sorry.

[Fuck, he's so cute. Damn it. Aki exhales and warns,] Alright, relax again. [Then breaches the muscles again, feeling around inside of him for all the release he spilled just half an hour before. The sensation of his fingers inside him is oddly addictive, the way he can feel him responding to his touch, even the ways his body moves based on what his hand on his hip feels. He has half a mind to start peppering kisses along his thigh as a pseudo-apology but holds back thanks to the waning effect of that devil. That might be the only reason he doesn't start pressing in more fingers, though.]

[Once he's clean inside and out, Aki stands up and washes his hands at the sink, tossing the tissues away as he tells Denji over his shoulder to go get in the tub. He can tell he's getting half-hard just from that brief moment, an embarrassing realization, so he'll use the short time while he washes his hands to will it away.]

[ His fingers swab inside of him, methodical, intent in the purpose they're serving. Not seeking out a reaction or his pleasure. That's what Denji's sure of, anyway. If their positions were reversed, he's not positive if he'd be able to pull the brakes so easily, assert the same ounce of control. He thinks about the countless times he's stirred one of his digits through a still cooking meal while Aki wasn't looking, popped the taste into his mouth, then curled his fingers back in for another sample. Yeah, he wouldn't be able to — oh.

Denji twitches, lets out a single dry breath when he feels him stroke right past the bump of his prostrate. Shit, it feels like his fingers have a direct string of contact to his spinal nerves from the way one touch is all he needs to spike a shiver through him, multisensational somehow, like it's something he can actually hear echoing in his ears, cutting up roof of his mouth. Is he doing this on purpose, flows to the edge of his mental shoreline for a wishful moment, because if Aki's not toying with him, he really wishes he would. Then, with his hand releasing from him, the thought regretfully ebbs away completely. ]

…Thanks.

[ If he sounds a little breathless, that's definitely Aki's imagination.

Even after Aki tells Denji to enter the tub without him, he stays standing there for a few seconds, blinking and briefly dazed by the vacancy between his legs before he somehow carries himself over to the bath. It's not as hot as it was earlier, which means the temperature is perfect as he submerges himself up to his shoulders, the water sloshing over the edge as Aki accurately predicted. He flicks the lights of the tub on, hoping it might obscure how stupidly turned on he is. He doesn't need Aki making fun of him. Stealing a glance at his turned back to check that he's not making his way over yet, Denji ignores his erection to experimentally press a finger to his hole, which opens up to him without any resistance.

It's not really the same, though, and he'll hastily pull out of himself the moment Aki arrives. ]

[Denji gets to poke around for an extra minute or so as Aki cleans off, finally turning around and surrendering to his half-hard state and hoping Denji will just... think it's what he normally looks like or something. He heads over to the tub and maneuvers to climb in, the sink of his body causing more displaced water to spill over the edge.]

[...This temperature is perfect. He sighs in relief, sinking down to his chest and feeling his muscles relax.]

Larger tubs... really are a luxury.

[Just think if Denji wasn't even here. He could stretch all the way out. As it is, his toes and legs are touching his, both knees bent on the opposite side of the tub.]

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lol np!

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