[ Denji flinches back like a lit candle wick wavering away from a cool blow of air. He knows. He knows it's one thing after another with him: his failing health, his nosy dog, his lost phone. Maybe the sudden appearance of the devil hunters, the devil that'd terrorized the neighborhood, hadn't been his fault, but the way Aki says that last sentence makes him feel like he's being blamed for that, too. It's irrational; it makes sense, though.
He didn't ask Aki to carry him today, or the time before that, but what would he have done if he hadn't appeared at all? If Denji'd been alone? Nobody else would have cared to find him.
The fact that Aki cares for him is something that he often takes for granted, so when faced with the potentiality that caring for him is something that is actually quite cumbersome… His mouth screws up, and for a moment, it appears his eyes might water and follow suit. But then he turns. Quietly scurries toward their apartment, like he can't get away from Aki fast enough.
Power comes back an indeterminate amount of time after this exchange, which is still before Aki has returned, so maybe it hasn't been as long as it felt. Her arms are full of fried chicken and sides, a fanciful tune humming at her lips. She pauses at the door, taking Denji in, before slowly approaching on her hands and knees like she would a cat cowering from a busy intersection, food bags dragging across the floor.
"Denji!" Power shouts. "This is hardly a throne fit your sovereign ruler! But it'll do. Scoot over."
The peasant ritual in question is just him having stacked his futon and pillows against the dining table to create a fort for him to peacefully lay under. It's small. Square. Pochita is curled comfortably on top of his stomach, and Denji doesn't have to think in here. Which is nice and how he likes it, up until Power creates an opening into it by kicking away one of the pillows and collapses beside him, her stuff crashing into the side of Denji's face. He groans and grumbles, but makes space for her as ordered.
That'll be how Aki finds them, laying there together and sharing pieces of chicken, whenever he returns. ]
no subject
He didn't ask Aki to carry him today, or the time before that, but what would he have done if he hadn't appeared at all? If Denji'd been alone? Nobody else would have cared to find him.
The fact that Aki cares for him is something that he often takes for granted, so when faced with the potentiality that caring for him is something that is actually quite cumbersome… His mouth screws up, and for a moment, it appears his eyes might water and follow suit. But then he turns. Quietly scurries toward their apartment, like he can't get away from Aki fast enough.
Power comes back an indeterminate amount of time after this exchange, which is still before Aki has returned, so maybe it hasn't been as long as it felt. Her arms are full of fried chicken and sides, a fanciful tune humming at her lips. She pauses at the door, taking Denji in, before slowly approaching on her hands and knees like she would a cat cowering from a busy intersection, food bags dragging across the floor.
"Denji!" Power shouts. "This is hardly a throne fit your sovereign ruler! But it'll do. Scoot over."
The peasant ritual in question is just him having stacked his futon and pillows against the dining table to create a fort for him to peacefully lay under. It's small. Square. Pochita is curled comfortably on top of his stomach, and Denji doesn't have to think in here. Which is nice and how he likes it, up until Power creates an opening into it by kicking away one of the pillows and collapses beside him, her stuff crashing into the side of Denji's face. He groans and grumbles, but makes space for her as ordered.
That'll be how Aki finds them, laying there together and sharing pieces of chicken, whenever he returns. ]