Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shin is going to lose his mind. Or kill someone. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what comes first — Sakamoto family rules be damned — as long as this insanity comes to an end. There’s truly only so much a man can take before he reaches a breaking point. 

It all started a few months ago when Heisuke couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. It was a slow day in Sakamoto's shop. Only a few customers milling about while Shin worked on sweeping the floors and restocking the shelves.

“Hey Shin-kun, have you ever tried a couples discount?” 

“A what?” Shin mutters distractedly, focused on restocking the cup ramen. Damn, Sakamoto better start laying off the stuff, or they're gonna run out soon. Better make a mental note to confront him about it. … On second thought, maybe he should get Aoi involved… he didn’t want to contribute to the frankly insane number of times ‘Imaginary Shin’ had been murdered by Sakamoto-san’s hand. He’s drawn back into the conversation when Heiskuke continues.

“You know! Like when restaurants or cafes or stuff will offer discounted goods to all the cute couples that come into their store!” 

“Hmmm, I wouldn’t know,” Shin replies absentmindedly. “I’ve never been on a date.” He’s trying to decide if he should go talk to the customer who has been staring at the same packet of ramen for the past 20 minutes. Surely he isn’t actually thinking that hard. He probably just wants help but is too shy to ask. Though it’s a bit weird that he can’t read his mind to make sure. Shin takes a step in that direction only to almost slip when he is interrupted by a loud screech. 

“What do you mean you’ve never been on a date?!” Heiskue yells. 

Shin turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve just never seen the point of it,” He feels the need to defend himself. 

“But Shin-kun! You’re like moderately handsome and, sure, you don't have a high-paying job, and you’re kind of loud, and you have a sketchy past, and you are always getting beat up by guys that are stronger than you, but you’re a pretty alright guy! I can’t believe no one has ever asked you out!!”

“Wow. Thanks, Heiskue,” Shin responds, dryly. “That makes me feel a lot better.”  

“Hahaha, of course! Don’t mention it!” Heisuke replies, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Right…” Shin mutters, attempting to turn back to his work.

“Wait, so does that mean you’ve… never kissed anyone?!” 

Shin shakes his head. 

“Not even holding hands?!”

Shin sighs. “Nope,” he says, popping the P for emphasis. 

“That’s so tragic, Shin-kun!” Heiskue replies, wiping fake tears from his eyes. 

Shin huffs. “It’s fine. It’s not like it bothers me any.” He turns around to go help the customer from before, but he’s already gone. Huh. Maybe he didn’t need help after all, Shin thinks. 

— 

It started small. Inconsequential things, really. So Shin really couldn’t be blamed for not taking notice before it got to this point. 

Incident Numero Uno, as Shin has taken to dubbing it in his head, started like this: Shin and Nagumo had been sent on a ‘mission.’ And by that, he means Sakamoto-san had sent the two of them on a wild goose chase to go find the nearly sold-out Sugar Bunny toy for Hana’s birthday. After nearly an hour and a half of wandering about, they had finally tracked it down to a small shop on the other side of town. 

Standing outside again, present in hand, Shin felt a warm sense of pride fill his chest at a job well done. Hoisting the fruits of their labor a bit higher, he casts a sidelong glance at his companion, who is uncharacteristically silent. That probably spells trouble for Shin. He sighs inwardly before turning to face Nagumo, internally bracing himself for what is sure to be some absolute bullshit. 

Before he can blink, Naguomo is reaching out towards his face. It almost looks like he is about to touch Shin’s mouth, but the hand settles lightly on his shoulder instead. Naguomo squeezes gently. A few moments pass where neither of them moves. Nagumo's hand is still resting on his shoulder. It’s hot. A brand where the warmth of him seems to be searing right through his thin t-shirt. Shin wishes for maybe the billionth time that he could actually read this bastard's mind. 

“Uh Nagumo?” There’s a weird look in Nagumo's eyes. He feels a million miles away, but seems to snap out of it at Shin's call. 

“Come on, sunshine! Time’s awasting!” He squeezes again before letting go and making his way down the street. 

Weird. That was weird, right? Shin questions to himself. But then again, everything Nagumo does is weird. So maybe this is actually normal? Hmmm, probably best not to dwell on it. 

“Hurry up, buttercup. I don't have all day!” Nagumo calls over his shoulder, a considerable distance away already. Damn him and his long legs. 

“Er, right right,” Shin replies, rushing to catch up with him. He can still feel the warmth of Nagumo’s palm lingering through his shirt. Huh. 

—

The angel incident happened not too long after that. It was pretty late at night, so understandably, his usual faculties weren’t in order. And he had been doing math. Endless amounts of math for the last god knows how long. Turns out he’s pretty good at accounting. Which means he is tasked with helping Sakamoto with the ledgers. And normally that wouldn’t be a big deal; in fact, in most cases, Shin loves that he can make himself helpful. But today, apparently, that means tackling the ledger from hell. There was some sort of mistake added a few months back that had trickled down and messed up every single goddamn number. It was taking Shin ages to redo it all. 

Nagumo, as usual, was being unhelpful, lounging across the counter like some sort of overgrown house cat. A stray one at that.

 “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Shin questions.

“Awww, but why would I go anywhere else when I can spend time with you, sweet cakes?”

Shin just rolls his eyes. Nagumo had taken to calling him increasingly sickening nicknames lately. Likely for his own twisted amusement, Shin thinks nastily. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could use his ESP to make Nagumo's hair catch on fire. 

“I know I’m handsome, but you don’t need to stare,” Nagumo needles. “I’ll be here allllllll night. Just take a picture, lovebug~ It’ll last longer.” Shin lets out a breath, reeling in his death stare. Damn. Guess not on the fire then. 

“Leave me alone. I’ve gotta focus, and you’re not helping.” 

Nagumo slides off the counter, and Shin entertains the idea that he is finally leaving, that his prayers have been answered. Of course, because it’s Nagumo, there is no such luck. Instead, he wanders over behind the counter to lean over Shin and stare at the ledger, taking care to hover just enough that his front is a hairsbreadth from Shin's back. 

“Hmm, let’s have a look then,” Nagumo says, reaching out to drag a finger along the open pages of the ledger. 

“Y-you—” Shin startles, turning to look at Nagumo. He swallows back his eep. Too close. Way, way too close. Holy shit. He looks down at Nagumo's lips, which are mere centimeters from his own, before quickly flicking them to the side, embarrassed. He decides it’s safest to just look back down at the ledger and get back to work. 

A soft touch along the shell of his ear brings him back to the present. Did Nagumo just-?

“Hard to do math if you can’t see anything,” Nagumo says gently, his tone leaving a fluttering feeling in Shin's stomach that he staunchly refuses to acknowledge. It sounds too much like care. Which is how Shin knows it’s bullshit. Nagumo doesn’t do care. Or caring. Or god forbid affection. Unless he’s trying to rile Shin up by being a little shit. 

So he brushed some hair away from Shin's face. So what. He’s probably just enjoying tormenting Shin. Well, Shin’s not about to give him the satisfaction. He steals his spine and wills himself not to react. 

“I can see just fine, thanks.” 

“Hmmm,” Naguomo hums noncommitally. “Is that why you didn’t notice this?” Shin looks at where Nagumo is pointing and… and that’s it. The error he’s been hunting this whole time. Thank fucking god…or… Nagumo, he supposes. Except he’s not stupid enough to express his gratitude out loud and risk selling his soul to that devil wearing human skin that calls itself by the idiot's name. 

“What, no thank you?” Speak of the devil. 

“You don’t deserve it. I probably would have noticed it if you weren’t distracting me.” 

This is apparently all the permission Nagumo needs to flop down gracelessly onto Shin's back. A Cheshire grin stretches across his face. “Oh? So, you find me distracting?” 

“Shut up!” Shin says, shoving uselessly at Nagumo’s face, which only causes him to latch on harder, wrapping his hands around Shin's shoulders as he tries to push him away. 

“Aww baby~ It’s okay. I find your beauty distracting as well.”

Shin feels his cheeks pink. He resists the urge to slap his hands over them. Stupid Nagumo, always trying to mess with his head like this. 

Luckily, Nagumo seems to decide he’s reached his annoyance quota for the day, unlatching himself from Shin and choosing instead to make himself comfortable by Shin's side, pressing their hips together. Shin decides it’s easier not to mention it. 

He doesn’t quite remember how exactly after that he ended up falling asleep, but he does remember waking up in his own bed the following morning. Probably Sakamoto taking it upon himself to carry Shin home after noticing him passed out behind the counter. He most definitely imagined the soft kiss pressed to his forehead and the mumbled, “Goodnight angel,” as he drifted off to sleep. Because, well, the idea that it could have been Nagumo who carried him to his apartment? Well, that was just hilarious. 

— 

From there, the ‘incidents’  continued with increasing frequency.  It seemed like Nagumo's new obsession was using physical touch and ‘sweet nothings’ to drive Shin up the wall. It was absurd. It was embarrassing. And it was making Shin feel absolutely insane all the god damn time. 

This new torment tactic also had the unfortunate effect of fanning the flames of a torch Shin was absolutely refusing to be carrying. But in his defense, it was probably a self-preservation tactic. Because deep down, Shin knew it was all just some big joke to Nagumo. The touching, the nicknames, the…flirting (if you could even call it that). It meant nothing to him because that’s how he was. He didn’t do real. And he certainly didn’t do anything as human as feelings. Nagumo probably just liked how easily these new tricks could get a rise out of him. He didn’t understand the real reason Shin reacted that way. That Naguomo was essentially tempting a starving man with flashes of a seven-course meal. And he wouldn’t if Shin had anything to say about it. 

Which is why Shin started avoiding Nagumo. But like a particularly incessant mosquito, of course, that bastard found ways to track him down. 

He’s standing with his proverbial pants down in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store, trying to determine if it’s worth it to splurge on some mushrooms to go with his dinner, which is why he can not be blamed for not sensing the ominous presence behind him. Between one blink and the next, said mushrooms have been swiped from his hand, and a pointy chin is descending atop his head, deceptively strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

“They didn’t tell me they were having a special on cuties today~” Nagumo intones cheerfully. 

“Nagumo,” Shin grits out. “What are you doing here.” 

Nagumo opens his mouth, but Shin, his bullshit radar already going off before a word has even been uttered, raises his hand to cut him off. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know,” he says, pulling on Nagumo's arms and stepping out of the ruins of his personal space. 

“Awwww honey, you’re so mean to me~” He whines comically. “Can’t a doting husband show up and help his lovely little wife with the groceries?” 

“Sure,” Shin shrugs. “Except you’re not my husband. And I’m certainly not your wife.” 

“You wound me! And to think I’ve come all this way.” Great, Shin thinks, he’s pouting now. He chooses to believe the lie that he doesn’t find that look endearing. 

“Whatever. Since you are here, you might as well make yourself useful. Here. Hold something,” Shin says, thrusting his basket in Nagumo's direction. 

“Sure,” Nagumo responds easily. Too easily. 

“What- what the hell do you think you are doing?” Shin stares down in disbelief. The damn bastard has laced their fingers together. 

“Holding something,” Nagumo replies completely straight-faced. “Isn’t that what you asked for?” 

“But- I- what? You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“What’s wrong, my love? Embarrassed? Awww, you are just too cute,” Nagumo grins back salaciously.

Shin can feel his face heat. He must be blushing, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Regardless, he’s not above completely ignoring all of this bullshit. 

“Whatever,” He huffs, giving up. “You’re buying the damn groceries.” His palm feels like it’s burning. 

“Of course, my love, anything for you~” That damn nickname again. Fuck. 

“Let’s just hurry up. I don’t want Samamoto wondering where we are.”

“Whatever you say, dearest,” Nagumo replies, smiling sweetly. 

Shin decides it’s time for a tactical retreat, stomping off in the direction of the cashiers and dragging a smug-looking Nagumo behind him. And if he ‘fails’ to remember to actually let go of Nagumo’s hand until they make it all the way back to Sakamoto’s shop, well, who’s gonna call him out on it?

—

It’s not always even an incident. Sometimes it’s so innocuous Shin thinks he could have imagined it. His mind playing tricks on him. Showing him manifestations of a desire that isn’t even really there. 

It’s always completely random when it happens. No rhyme or reason or predictable pattern. And oh has Shin tried to predict, if only to try to brace the weak fluttering thing he calls his heart. 

If Shin didn’t know any better, he would have suspected that the whole grocery incident had opened up Nagumo to a wholly unhealthy obsession with his hands. He always seemed to be pulling at them, touching them, staring at them. So much staring, it’s a wonder Nagumo didn’t develop eye strain. If Shin’s honest, it was starting to unnerve him. 

This time, they are in Sakamoto’s shop, as they often are, and Nagumo is actually being helpful for once, restocking the bottom shelves as Shin hands him different items. Looking back, that should have been the first sign.  

It’s quiet, almost peaceful. The two working in comfortable silence. Which is why Shin is completely caught off guard when it happens. He’s leaning down slightly, hand extended to hand Nagumo a bag of chips where he’s crouched to Shin’s right. Quickly, gently, Nagumo grabs Shin's hand and flips it around. Then, a brush of lips across his knuckles so fleeting it’s almost like it was never there. He hums and then turns back to his work like nothing happened. Meanwhile, Shin stands there dumbstruck. It isn’t until Nagumo looks up at him, eyebrow quirked, that he realizes several seconds have passed. He begins to hand items down to Nagumo again, snapping himself out of it. 

This is just another one of Nagumo's stupid tricks, he tells himself. An extension of all the teasing and prodding he's experienced up till now. It means nothing. It never does. He resolves not to think about it. And if later that night he lies awake, the only thought on his mind the lingering sensation of a featherlight kiss, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own. 

—

On the other hand, sometimes the incident was so big, so unbelievable that it deserved a capital I followed by a ™ and to be shoved deep, deep down into the folder marked “DO NOT TOUCH” in the depths of Shin’s brain. 

This Incident™ started with a phone call. Normally, Shin wouldn’t pick up, not one to entertain unknown callers, but it was almost like he could sense this was going to be important. 

As soon as the phone rings, Shin’s instincts immediately go on high alert. He picks up the phone with trepidation, “Hello?”

“Oh Shin! You answered. Good. Good. That’s good.”

“Nagumo?” Instincts screaming now. Shin has never known Nagumo to call him. Not once. Not even when it was revealed that he was almost killed on his way to meet Shin for a mission. In fact, until now, Shin wasn’t even certain Nagumo knew his number. Whatever Nagumo was calling about, it certainly wasn’t good. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Me? Nothing’s ever wrong with me. I’m great. Perfect even. Definitely not drugged. Or poisoned. Did I mention that I’m great?”

“What the fuck?” Shin barks. “Where are you?” He was already shrugging on his jacket and heading toward the door. That idiot. For a genius, sometimes he’s pretty damn stupid. Joking around even in moments like this. And so fucking afraid to lean on others. It was frankly insulting. And also deeply concerning. Shin guessed he should at least count his blessings that Nagumo had the mind to call for backup. Speaking of…

“Where is the rest of your team? Aren’t you on a mission with The Order?”

“Don’t know. Ran away.”

“You…ran away?” 

A grunt on the other end. “Yes, alley a few blocks from Sakamoto’s. Near the ice cream parlor. I thought I’d make it back. But,” another grunt like Nagumo is holding back a cry of pain, “dizzy. Can’t see. Need to sit down. Want to see you.”

Wow, Shin thought, that’s different. And totally not doing terrible things to my heart. “You’re being awfully forthcoming right now.” He muses aloud, picking up the pace now that he knows where he is going. Fuck. It’s times like these he wished he could teleport rather than read people’s minds. 

Nagumo merely hums on the other end of the line. “I was told I needed to be more honest. They hit me with something. It looks like truth potions don’t just live in those shitty fantasy novels you read.”

“Hey! They’re not shitty!” A beat. “Also, how the fuck do you even know about that?” This is good. Falling back into their normal banter is keeping Shin from losing his mind. But. Shit. Shin can’t even imagine. All your secrets laid bare, waiting to bubble up without your consent? For Nagumo, who practically lies every time he breathes, that must be its own special kind of torture. 

Nagumo huffs a laugh, which turns into more of a wheeze at the end. “They’re shitty. But it’s cute that you like them. Endearing even.”

“Fuck you. If my taste is so shitty, why did you even call me in the first place?”

“I trust you.” Said quickly, without hesitation. Shin almost drops his phone in shock. There’s an awkward silence on the other end of the line. “Fuck. Just. Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m almost there.”

Upon arrival, Shin can immediately tell Nagumo was severely downplaying just how bad a state he was in over the phone. He is slumped against the wall, clutching his side while his head is lolled forward towards his chest. There is a long gash on his bicep: a cut tearing clean through his jacket and the shirt beneath. Red blood is oozing out of the wound, leaving a long line of crimson trailing down his arm. There is also, of course, a sizable puddle of blood seeping out from under him, completing the picture by creating a fucked up looking red circle around his prone form. Shin's heart stutters upon looking at him. 

His first thought is fuck. His next thought is double fuck. Rushing over to where Nagumo is, he pulls his jacket off, balling it up and pushing it firmly against the wound on Nagumo's abdomen. Nagumo merely sucks in a pained breath before blinking bleary eyes up at Shin. 

“Hey, beautiful. What took you so long?”

This damn bastard and his stupid nicknames. He couldn’t drop it, even for a second. This whiplash is too much for Shin’s heart to handle. He grabs Nagumo's hand, resettling it on top of his jacket. “Hold this in place. We need to stem the bleeding as much as possible.”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous,” comes Nagumo's response. How he could continue joking like this while inches away from death's door, Shin had no clue. He moves to stand up, already doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out the best and quickest way to get Nagumo to treatment. He doesn’t even get a chance to rise from his crouch before a hand is yanking him back down. Shin's left knee lands hard on the ground while his right leg stays propped up from where he had been using it as leverage to stand. An arm snakes around his back, pulling him in towards Nagumo before sliding up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. It was like some sort of fucked up lovers' embrace (or so Shin could dream). He could feel the gravel digging into his skin the longer he knelt there. Nagumo, for his part, was perfectly content nuzzling into the crook of Shin's neck. Soft puffs of air warming the skin there. It almost felt like Nagumo was trying to breathe him in. But that, of course, would be absurd, Shin reminded himself. 

Even with the shock of their newfound position, Shin couldn’t forget about the extent of Nagumo's injuries. They needed to get him medical care. Fast. 

“Nagumo,” he calls softly, justifying his tone of voice as being considerate in case Nagumo also has a concussion on top of all his other injuries. No other reason. Absolutely no longing or affection to be found here. No sir. 

Nagumo only grumbles back, shaking his head side to side and dragging his nose softly back and forth along Shin's collarbone. He mumbles something, but it is too muffled for Shin to hear it. 

“Come on Nagumo. Let’s get up. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?” 

“Comfortable here. With you,” Nagumo says petulantly, pulling back enough to pout up at Shin. 

Shin rolls his eyes heavenward. Lord give him strength. Apparently, taking his eyes off Nagumo is the wrong choice. An incessant tugging drags his attention back to the man in front of him. 

“No here. Look here,” Nagumo whines, pout deepening. 

Shin bites back a smile, but he can feel hints of it creeping onto his face. Nagumo is kind of endearing like this. Fuck. Maybe all the teasing was getting to him. Or maybe he had finally lost his marbles. 

A clumsy hand slaps against the side of Shin's face. “Ow! Nagumo, what the hell?!”

“Did you know?” Big doe eyes blinking slowly up at him. “That you have a dimple. On this side.” He reaches back up as if to try to touch Shin's face again, but Shin swiftly grabs his fingers before he can cause any more collateral damage. He continues on, seemingly oblivious to Shin's hold on his hand. “It’s distracting.” A sigh. Nagumo looks down to mutter to himself, “You’re very distracting.” His head snaps back up. “Did you know that?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like a cat. 

Shin decides it is in his best interest to just ignore Nagumo and his ramblings for now. That way, Nagumo can retain some of his dignity, and Shin can hopefully attempt to salvage some of his sanity. Nagumo probably meant distracting as in ‘annoying’ anyway. Best not to get his hopes up. 

“Come on, Nagumo. Up you go.” Shin pulls Nagumo up into a standing position, taking most of his weight when it becomes immediately clear that Nagumo has about as much strength as a ragdoll. 

“Your hands especially.” 

“That’s nice, Nagumo,” Shin replies, grunting a bit as he shifts Nagumo's weight around, prepping him to be easier to carry. 

“I would chop off someone’s fingers one by one if you’d just let me–”

“Okay!” Shin interrupts, not wanting to hear the rest of that frankly disturbing train of thought. “Let’s just go to sleep now, okay? I’ll make sure you get home safely.” He reaches down, hooking his hand around the back of Nagumo's thighs and lifting so he can carry him against his chest. Luckily, Nagumo gets the message and very conveniently wraps his legs around Shin's waist and his arms around his shoulders without needing to be told to hold on. Shin sighs internally. This was gonna be a long night. 

They’d only made it about a block before Shin felt the barest hint of pressure against his neck. The softest press of lips to his skin. His brain starts rebooting midstep, thankfully coming back online before he can fuck up and brain himself on the concrete. A mumbled “Thanks, Shin” was all he got as explanation, the damn bastard immediately passing out after because, of course, he couldn’t do Shin the courtesy of staying awake long enough to give him enough time for a proper freak out. Fuck. Hearing his name like that from Nagumo's lips should be illegal. His poor heart feels like it’s about to give out. 

As he trudges on, holding Nagumo in his arms, there’s no more running away from it. He’s fallen for this man. Plain and simple. He laughs soundlessly to himself. Looks like all of Nagumo's flowery words actually worked. Too bad he’s too much of a bastard to actually mean any of the beautiful things that come out of his damned mouth. Shin may not be able to save himself from heartbreak, but he can at least be honest with himself. Fuck. He wants him. He wants him so bad he practically aches with it. If only it weren’t all just a game to him, Shin merely a fun toy to play with until Nagumo decided he was bored. Man. He really knew how to pick 'em, huh? 

—

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Nagumo intones humorously. Shin, for his part, doesn’t respond seeing as he’s currently passed out and slumped across Nagumo's back.

To be honest, Shin doesn’t remember much of this incident, minding a few bits and pieces here and there. In his defense, it’s hard to remember much of anything with a grade A concussion on your hands. 

He does remember pushing Nagumo out of the way, bringing his arms up to protect himself as he somersaulted through the air. Not that that did much of anything for the bullet wound in his side, but hey, solve one problem at a time, that’s what he always says. 

He also vividly remembers finally hitting the ground after said somersault. That shit hurt like a bitch. He was pretty sure he was gonna have a hard time actually forgetting that pain for a while. 

“Shin!” As much as Shin wants to respond to Nagumo's cry, he can’t even bring himself to open his mouth from where he lies crumpled on the ground. 

There’s a loud crack (likely the neck of the poor bastard that shot him, but Shin's choosing not to think about that) and the pounding of boots drawing closer before big, strong hands are pulling his body up into a more comfortable position. Well, relatively comfortable. Moving at all feels a lot like being set on fire if he’s honest.

“Do you cradle everyone that gets shot in your arms, or am I just lucky?”

“God damn it Shin, this is not the time for you to grow a sense of humor.” Nagumo looks panicked, a wild look in his eyes. Shin’s never seen him quite like this before. He feels the need to reassure him. He reaches a hand up, placing it on Nagumo’s cheek before he can think better of it. 

“I’m fine.” 

The energy seems to be sucked out of Nagumo at these words, his body curling forward around Shin's prone figure. 

“Shit. Just.” A deep breath, like he’s trying to settle himself. “Why— never mind. Don’t do that again.”

Shin hums back. The edges of his vision starting to blur. “Not planning on it,” he responds. 

“Fuck I almost—” Nagumo continues as if Shin didn’t speak at all. His fingers feel like they might be leaving bruises from where his grip has tightened around Shin's shoulders. “You could have— Fuck.” A beat. “Fuck.” He leans down, touching his forehead to Shin's before whispering under his breath. “You drive me crazy.”  

“Nagumo.”

“Also, for the record, this is not fine.” Nagumo seems to have done a quick 180 from panicked to angry, leaning back to roughly strip off Shin's jacket and peel up the edge of his T-shirt. “In fact, most people would say this is the opposite of fine, you absolute hard-headed, self-sacrificing, idiot.” He’s somehow managed to produce a roll of bandages from one of his many trench coat pockets and begins making quick work of bandaging Shin up. “Some might even say–”

“Nagumo. You would have done the same for me.” A rattling breath. “It’s fine.” 

Nagumo pauses in his methodical wrapping of Shin's wound. Tilting his head forward so that his bangs hang over his face, hiding his expression from Shin's view. “Yeah, anything. I would… yes.”

Shin squints his eyes. This response doesn’t make sense to him, but it also feels like mayhaps his grasp on reality is slipping a bit. Probably the blood loss. In any case, he’s too tired to try to figure out a cryptic Nagumo right now. In fact, he’s too tired to do much of anything right now. Maybe he should just close his eyes and get some sleep. 

“Nagumo?”

“Yes, beautiful?” 

Oh fuck what was he gonna say? That word sounded so dangerous coming from that mouth. Let it be known that sticks, stones, and words can, in fact, all break bones. Or hurt hearts. Anyways. Wow. His head is so fuzzy right now. Is this what being high is like?

“Shin?” 

“Hmm?”

“You… wanted to say something?”

Oh. Right. “Nagumo. I’m tired. I'm gonna sleep now.”

“No. No Shin.” Nagumo begins jostling him back and forth, which, ow. There’s also a wrinkle pulling the skin down between his eyebrows. That must mean he’s stressed, Shin thinks deliriously. “Fuck. Keep your eyes open, love. You gotta stay awake.”

“But I don’t wanna,” Shin pouts. 

“I know. I know sweetie, but you have to try.”

“Mmmm. Okay. I’ll just…rest my eyes… for a second then.”

The jostling increases. “Shin?” 

No response.

“Shin?” Said with more force.  

Again nothing. 

“God fucking damn it.” 

So yeah, Shin doesn’t remember much of what happened on the trek back to Sakamoto’s after he was shot. However, he does unfortunately remember his many, many interactions with Nagumo after he woke up. It seemed like Nagumo took Shin's injury as implicit permission to be constantly underfoot. Hanging around Shin's apartment, Sakamoto's shop, the fucking grocery store, and generally just deciding to be a nuisance. It was like a bad mold Shin just couldn’t seem to get rid of. Seriously. He drew the line at Nagumo trying to follow him into the bathroom. That was just too fucking far. 

And don’t get him started on the staring. God, if he thought it was bad before, it had nothing on the way Nagumo was acting now. It made Shin feel a lot like a mouse caught beneath the keen eyes of a cat right before it went for the kill. As much as he grudgingly liked having Nagumo's attention on him most days, this was way too much to handle. It was also annoying. Shin was a full-grown adult, goddamit. He could do things by himself. 

Luckily for him, Nagumo appeared to lose interest in babying him after about a week or so of following him around like a lost puppy, all “Eh heeeeh~ Shin~” this and “Yo ho~ Shinnnnnn~” that. The attitude change seemed to occur around the time they planned to practice sparing one another. Well. Shin was practicing. Nagumo was probably just enjoying showing off how much better he was at everything than Shin. 

In this particular case, Shin had successfully worn Nagumo down, cajoling him into teaching Shin how to get behind an enemy and neutralize them. Except, it wasn’t really working considering Nagumo wouldn't stop pulling all of his punches. Literally. 

“Come on, Nagumo. I’m never gonna get anywhere if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what dearest~~ I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Overly fake cartoonish eyes blink over at him. 

“Drop it.” Shin growls. “Now come on. Let’s go again.” 

Nagumo rushes Shin, blatantly telegraphing all of his movements. Shin doesn’t need to be able to read his mind to tell that Nagumo’s planning to fake a right hook and then throw a punch with his left hand. He is able to easily use his momentum against him, get behind Nagumo, and put him in a headlock. It reminds Shin of the first time they met. Except Nagumo actually took that fuck ass pizza delivery assassin seriously. Which just rubs salt into the wound that he won’t take Shin seriously right now. He drops his hold on Nagumo and steps back. 

“Wow Shin! You’re getting so strong~”

“Tell your bullshit to someone who will believe you,” Shin huffs out bitterly. “Look, if you’re not gonna take this seriously, let’s just stop for the day. I feel like I’m not even learning anything.”

“Come on Shin~ Don’t be like that! I promise I’m trying my best~”

“Yeah, right. At this rate, next time I step out in the field I’m going to wind up dead.” The joking attitude around them freezes. Nagumo’s spine seems to have stiffened, a determined glint flashing in his eyes. He chuckles coldly. 

“Just remember, you asked for it. Brace yourself, sweetheart. I’m about to run you ragged.”

Shin smirks. That’s more like it. “Bring it on!”

—

As time passed, it seemed like every consecutive interaction made Nagumo more and more bold, each incident giving him the confidence to become weirder and more persistent. Which led them to their current situation: namely, Nagumo wrapped around Shin like a limpet refusing to let go while Shin tries to do his job, goddammit. Not everyone can lounge off the money of the JCC, some people had to actually work for a living. 

Nagumo’s got himself draped over Shin's shoulders, his chin resting atop Shin's head. After a frankly embarrassingly long battle for dominance, Shin finally gave up trying to shake Nagumo off and made himself content to just drag Nagumo around like a glorified cape. He doesn’t even remember what prompted the response this time; all he knows is that at some point, Nagumo opened his big mouth to say, “That’s not what my future boyfriend would say~ Shinnnn-chan~”

Now, in hindsight, what happens next is not entirely Nagumo's fault. I mean, it wasn’t like Shin ever stopped him or reacted poorly to the teasing beyond a few embarrassed blushes. Maybe Nagumo just caught Shin on an off day, or maybe the stress of having his desires constantly dangled in front of him had finally taken its toll. Regardless, what happens next is probably months in the making. 

Shin stills, going rigid in Nagumo’s arms. “We’re not dating,” he replies flatly. Tacking on an ‘unfortunately’ in his head. Let it be known he’s glad he’s the only mind reader in town and he's gonna fucking take advantage of it. 

“Hmmmm, maybe we should!! I bet Shin would look sooooo cute dressed up for one of our little dates,” Nagumo sings back, tilting his head to the side, his chin just barely making contact with the side of Shin's head. 

“Yeah, right. Like I’d ever dress up for you. Let alone consider dating you.”

“Oh come on, isn’t that what two people who love each other should do? I know you’re just gagging to be my boyfriend, Shi-in~”

Shin literally feels his heart stop in his chest. He knew Nagumo could be mean, but he never thought he would be cruel, throwing Shin's deepest desires back in his face just to get a reaction out of him. 

He forces himself to respond, hoping he can find a way to play this off. “What?” 

“Awww, Shin, come on. I know you loveeeee meeee.”

Fuck. Shin squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t take this anymore. It hurts. And it’s all far too much. It feels like Nagumo reached into the center of his chest and squeezed, pulling out and leaving a gaping hole where his heart is supposed to be. He thinks he stops breathing, but the feeling in his chest hurts so much he doesn’t notice. Is this what it feels like to die? “Let go,” Shin whispers

“Awwww, but you look so cute in my arms.”

And just like a rubber band, pulled too tight by searing touches and tender names and god damn feather light kisses, Shin snaps. He feels it radiate deep in the fragile, vulnerable parts of his center, shattering all rational thought. It hurts. He’s too particularly angry to care. 

He can feel a buzzing under his skin, like he’s hyperaware of every atom around him. There’s a ringing in his ears and only one thought in his head: This stops now. He sucks a deep breath in through his nose. This is it. No more lies. No more taunts. No more fucking playing with Shin's emotions like a god damn yo-yo. 

“Nagumo.” Silence so oppressive you could hear a pin drop stretches across the room. “Let. Go. Now.” 

—

Now Nagumo doesn’t really do fear. He’s not one to get scared at horror films or be stressed by the sight of gore. It would make his career much harder if he were. But that’s not to say Nagumo doesn’t ever feel afraid. And right now? He’s fucking terrified. 

Shin doesn’t even raise his voice. He doesn’t really need to. Nagumo has faced countless enemies, is likely stronger than everyone in this room, yet the hair on the back of his neck raises in a warning he hasn’t been given in many, many years. 

He doesn’t move from where he’s wrapped around Shin, his instincts telling him not to make any sudden movements. He feels like prey. Before this, he wasn’t even sure he knew what that felt like. But he’s certainly feeling it now. It’s terrifying. He hates it. “Shin—“ he starts.

In the blink of an eye, he’s on his back, an ooof rushing out of him as Shin switches their positions. He’s straddling Nagumo’s chest, a ballpoint pen produced from seemingly nowhere pointed at his throat. Sakamoto has stood up from where he was reading behind the counter. 

“Don't. Speak,” Shin grits out through clenched teeth. His eyes are bright blue. Distantly, a Nagumo less afraid for his life, reflects that they look quite beautiful like this. 

The items on the shelves around them vibrate. Some even seem to levitate a bit from where they were placed. Nagumo feels the pin pricks of static electricity ghost across his skin. This is not good. He’s not even entirely sure what’s happening, what he did to set Shin off this much, but he also knows that this has got to be hell on the ESPer’s body. Nagumo’s never thought of himself as a particularly brave person, but for Shin, he has to try. 

He decides he's going to speak anyways, opening his mouth to do just that when he discovers that he simply can not. It’s like his vocal cords are rebelling against him, refusing to cooperate even as he commands them to make a sound. Shin speaks again, leaning down so he can whisper a hairsbreadth from Nagumo’s ear. “You are going to stand up. You are going to leave this store. You are going to keep walking until you can’t feel your fucking feet anymore. And you are going to leave me the fuck alone until I am ready to see you again. Do you understand me?”

Nagumo finds himself nodding before a conscious thought even registers. Shin leans back, taking his body weight slowly off of Nagumo before standing up. And then, the weirdest thing happens. Nagumo stands up as well. He turns around. He feels trapped within his body, mentally banging on the walls to stop moving, to turn back around, to try to use all the skills at his disposal to fix whatever the hell is happening to him. But he can’t. Instead, he takes a step. And then another step. He’s walking out the door. He strains his mind, trying to force himself to hold onto the doorframe on his way out, to cling to the shop, to make his way back to Shin. But it’s pointless. His fingers don’t so much as even twitch. It seems like whatever spell Shin put on him, it’s fucking working. He keeps walking, out the door, down the block, out of town. Fuck. He thinks back to what Shin said to him, ‘until you can’t feel your fucking feet.’ He was in for a long night. 

—

In the end, Shin gets a week of freedom before Nagumo comes crawling back into his life. At least when he does, he looks as pathetic as Shin feels, which makes him feel just the tiniest bit better. But not enough to erase the hurt he’s been letting himself wallow in since he told Nagumo to get lost. 

He finds Shin curled up on a park bench. Knees pulled up to his chest. Arms wrapped around himself. How Nagumo knew where he was, he hadn’t the faintest idea. It was just like Nagumo to have no trouble finding him when he didn’t really want to be found. He first spots Nagumo in the distance, taking time with his approach. In the back of his mind, Shin registers that this is likely for his benefit, seeing as Nagumo can appear next to someone in the blink of an eye. The leaves crunch beneath Nagumo’s boots as he draws closer. 

“I don’t want to deal with you,” Shin snaps when Nagumo’s near enough to hear. That’s not entirely true, or he wouldn’t have been able to come back here, a treacherous part of Shin's brain whispers. He stubbornly tells it to shut the fuck up. He’s still not entirely sure what happened that day, but he’s not stupid enough to believe Nagumo really left on his own without a word of complaint. Or that he stayed away for so long of his own volition. 

Nagumo pulls to a stop a few feet away from Shin. “Why don’t we just talk?”

“Talk? I don’t think you and I know how to have an emotionally intelligent conversation.” He feels slightly rabid. Like a dog salivating as it looks for the opportunity to bite. He also feels trapped – pushed into an emotional corner. He hates this. Hates how easily Nagumo can crawl under his skin like he belongs there, making Shin feel crazy as he tries to bring the walls down that would block him out. Maybe he should just leave. He makes to stand up. 

“Wait,” Nagumo says. A plea. “I have a proposition.”

Shin pauses. His curiosity is piqued. He’s never known Nagumo to ask for anything, albeit in this backwards way of his. He settles his weight back onto the bench and quirks his eyebrow as if to say, ‘I’m listening.’ 

Nagumo reaches into his pocket, seemingly collecting himself as if he’s about to bare some big secret, before pulling something out of his coat pocket. He holds it aloft. 

“A… die,” Shin remarks haltingly. 

“Yes. A game of sorts.”

Shin scoffs. It’s just like Nagumo to turn this into a game like some sick cosmic joke. Nagumo must sense Shin is seconds away from losing his patience because he continues. 

“We take turns rolling the die. Even numbers, I’ll answer whatever you want…truthfully,” He adds like an afterthought. “Odd numbers, I get to ask you a question.”

Shin’s gaze skitters off to the side, scanning the distance as if it will tell him what to do. Nagumo reaches forward, hesitantly, like Shin's a frightened animal. He supposes he feels enough like one in any case. He didn’t even notice Nagumo slowly drawing nearer until he was close enough to touch. Nagumo uses that closeness to his advantage now, reaching forward to grab Shin's arm, forcing it to relinquish its hold on his knees. He slides his hand down until he can grab Shin's wrist, turning his palm to the sky and placing the die in it. “Here. You can go first,” He whispers. 

Shin hesitates. This is stupid. Why he’s even entertaining this, he doesn’t quite know himself. But something in Nagumo's halting, gentle approach makes him pause. He sighs internally. Might as well give it a shot. He rolls. It’s a two. 

Shin looks up, staring straight into Nagumo's eyes. “Why did you start calling me all those names?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Shin huffs.“That’s not an answer.” 

“Isn’t it?” Nagumo picks up the die and rolls it again. It’s a six. 

“Why did you keep calling me all of those nicknames?” Shin presses.

“Because I wanted to keep seeing your reactions.” Nagumo shrugs like he's feigning flippancy. “It was addicting.”

Shin feels a squeezing in his chest. Right. He had to remind himself that it was all just a game to Nagumo, this farce of a conversation merely exemplified that. He said all those things because it amused him. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

He rolls again. A four. 

“When you were injured a few weeks ago, why did you call me?”

“I told you on the phone, didn’t I? I trust you, Shin.” A pause. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see me like that.”

“But why?” 

Nagumo smirks playfully. “You need to roll.”

Shin resists the urge to roll his eyes. He rolls the die instead. A six. “Why do you trust me?” 

“Why is the sky blue?” Nagumo replies. “It just is.” 

“That’s not how-” Nagumo interrupts him by rolling the die again. A two. Shin stares at it, resisting the urge to give Nagumo the stink eye. He sighs, before trying to come up with his next question. 

“Why did you follow me around after I got injured?”

“I’m not good at… losing. Fights. Games. Toys. Anything really. I never realized you were something I could lose until I almost did.” 

“That’s not really an answer either,” Shin complains. 

Nagumo sighs bitterly. “I kept seeing that moment when you got hit every time you were out of sight. I wanted to make sure nothing could hurt you like that again. The best thing I could think to do was stay by your side.” 

Shin hums. Letting the weight of that confession settle on his shoulders. He was starting to turn something over in his mind. A half-formed thought, not yet clear to him, as if it needed time to solidify. The die was rolled again. Another four. 

“When you said it was addicting, my reactions, what did you mean?”

“Just that. I liked seeing you like that. I wanted to see you like that again,” Nagumo sighs as if the next sentence is too vulnerable to leave his lips without a little help. “You look good when you’re flushed.” 

Shin resists the urge to blush, not wanting to add any fuel to the fire. He is starting to feel like this game is rigged, seeing as it seems pretty statistically unlikely to roll this many evens in a row. Of course, this is when the die decides to reveal itself as a three. 

“What makes you think I didn’t mean it?” Naguomo asks.

Shin scoffs. “What didn’t? You love getting a reaction out of people. You can’t help it. It’s practically second nature to you. It’s not a ‘think’. I know you didn’t actually mean it.” 

“And what if I told you that I did?” Nagumo is looking at him seriously now. 

“I’d ask if you hit your head on the way over here.” 

Nagumo is quiet. Shin decides it’s time for another question. A two. He’s scared this time, not sure if he’s quite willing to put himself out there, his next question poised to expose his feelings more than they already have been. He’s not sure if he should confirm it. At least, without explicitly saying it out loud, his feelings can remain sort of nebulous, like they could be taken back, hidden away again at any moment. But Nagumo’s not stupid, not nearly as emotionally repressed as some people seem to think. He decides it’s time to bite the bullet. 

“How did you know that I liked you?”

Nagumo tilts his head, posturing like he is thinking. “I didn’t.” That surprised Shin. “I had a hunch, sure, people don’t really react like that unless there’s something else there, but… I couldn’t be confident.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “I learned a long time ago to trust my instincts. Something about you makes me question them.”

There is a nagging feeling in Shin’s gut. That half-formed thought coming back to bite him– force him to really think about what Nagumo was trying to say. The dice is rolled again. A four. Time to hit the nail on the head. Shin takes a deep breath. 

“Why did you say that?” 

“Say what?” Nagumo questions, tilting his head to the side in a look of confusion. 

Shin looks down at his lap, not feeling brave enough to look at Nagumo. “That we should date.”

“Because it’s true.” 

Shin's breath stutters. His heart hammering in his chest. “What… what’s true?”

“That two people who love each other should date.” 

In Shin's defense, it’s not exactly a fully conscious thought when he brings the knife to Nagumo's throat, flipping their positions so he can press the blade to his pulse point. This new position means that he’s effectively straddling Nagumo, who now sits fully on the bench, his back pressed into the metal slats behind him. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Don’t.” Shin snarls. “Don’t you dare joke about this.” He feels tears well in his eyes without his permission. He wants to feel angry. Mostly, he feels confused. He pushes through it. “You can lie about whatever you want. But if you lie about this, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not lying.” Nagumo reaches up to clasp his hand around where Shin is still holding the knife. He brings his other hand up to push the hair away from Shin's face, settling it at the nape of Shin's neck. 

“I’ve seen a lot of death, Shin. Lives are short. Too short. Two people who love each other, should date.” He says it like it’s a fact, like he really believes it. 

Shin takes a moment to think back, walking himself through this conversation, through the interactions they’ve had these last few months. That thought from before is heavy now with the weight of his discoveries. It’s been tumbled by the rough edges of his anxieties and Nagumo’s answers, coming out smooth and fully formed. “You like me,” Shin states. It feels close enough to the truth. 

Nagumo doesn’t so much as twitch. Shin feels judged all the same. “You… love me,” Shin corrects. 

Nagumo makes an amused face. “Looks like someone has a brain after all.”

“I…,” Shin starts not sure what he wants to say. The knife begins to slip from his fingers. Nagumo plucks it from his grasp before it can do any damage. 

“Would you like me to show you?”

Rough, calused hands cradle his face, making him feel like he is the most precious thing in the world. It’s almost blinding to look at Nagumo. So soft where he was normally hard. The walls around him breaking just a little for Shin to glimpse the vulnerability underneath. It is just like Nagumo said: addicting. Looking at him now gives Shin a chance to notice all of the things he hadn’t let himself think about before. The slope of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the quirk of his lips. He really was beautiful. 

Shin’s not really sure who leans in first, but he does register the faintest brush of lips on his, the smell of mint filling his lungs. His face warms from where their breaths intermingle. 

It’s not like what he expected. He expected Nagumo to be rough, demanding. Pushing and pulling at him like he does in all other scenarios. Instead, he’s gentle. Achingly so. The kiss is patient, warm lips slipping against each other in little caresses. It’s soft. It’s…it’s like… like you might try to make a kiss if it was your partner's first time. Fuck. That bastard, Shin thinks ruefully, before he is distracted by the sweep of Nagumo’s tongue along his bottom lip. He gasps in surprise, and Nagumo takes that as his opportunity to plunge inside. 

Shin melts under him. He loses track of time, sure in his certainty that this is exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. Eventually, the kisses slow, and Shin pulls back to look down at Nagumo. He’s slightly flushed, a look Shin's never seen on his pale skin. I’m not the only one who looks good when they’re flustered, Shin thinks. 

Nagumo nips a bite to the edge of Shin's jaw before ducking down, nuzzling into the side of Shin's neck. Shin resists the urge to coo mockingly at him. He feels happy, wrapped up in the disbelief that this is happening, which is why he almost misses it.  

「Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine.」

Shin freezes. The onslaught continues. 

「Only I get to touch him like this. Hold him. Kiss him. He’s mine. I’ll kill anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way. I love him. I love him. I love him.」 

It should be concerning — any sane man would have run for the hills — but Shin finds it oddly flattering instead. He’s definitely been kicked in the head one too many times. He can’t help but smile, though, knowing that this is Nagumo willingly letting him in, opening his heart and his mind to him in one fell swoop. He thinks he falls a bit harder in that moment. Not that he wants Nagumo to know that. 

“You’re– you’re crazy!” He blusters to save face. 

“For you maybe,” Nagumo replies, grinning, shameless. Shin feels a blush spread rapidly across his face, and he brings up a hand to cover it. Ugh, how can he just say stuff like that with a straight face? Faster than he can blink, Nagumo has captured the hand covering his face, pulling it towards his lips. “Come on, pretty. Don’t hide from me.” 

Shin allows his hand to be lowered and tugged over to rest on Nagumo’s chest. He looks down at Nagumo coyly. “Tell me it was real.”

Shin hopes Nagumo understands what he means, too embarrassed to say it aloud. But he needs to know. Needs reassurance that it wasn’t just bullshit and daisies. That it meant as much to Naguomo as it did to him. 

“It was real.” No hesitation. No hint of deception. 

“You meant it? All of it?” Shin pushes. 

“Well…maybe not all of it.”

“Nagumo,” Shin growls. Nagumo makes a face like he’s going to push the matter, the reaction to push Shin's buttons as instinctual as breathing. Luckily for Shin, Nagumo’s survival instincts seem to beat out his weird mental mating rituals, and he chooses to refrain from whatever bullshit he was planning to pull.

“Personally, some of those nicknames are quite tacky, but, yes. I meant it.”

Silence drapes itself around their shoulders. Shin feels cold, the bench under his knees sapping his warmth. It sobers him. Reminds him of who he’s talking to. How much it could hurt to let this go— to open up. Vulnerability was never something he wore well. But maybe that’s something they can have in common. There’s just one thing holding him back. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Shin whispers. 

A beat. 

“You don’t.” 

Shin looks back at Nagumo from where he was purposefully staring off into the distance. 

“You’ll have to trust me.” Nagumo's face does something strange then. He smiles, softening at the corners. It was a beautiful smile, a real one. Shin wondered how many people had seen it. He feels possessive all of a sudden. It seems Nagumo is rubbing off on him.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay.” It feels a little like surrender. Shin finds he doesn't mind. Trust, it seemed, could be an easy thing between them. 

“I’m yours, Shin. For however long you want me.” 

Shin sits there, slowly warming up to the idea. Nagumo. His. It is a terrifying thought. But also appealing, much in the way he imagines taming a feral wolf that refuses to tolerate anyone else might be. 

“And you?” Nagumo stares up at him expectantly. Shin feels himself melting the longer he is held under Nagumo’s stare. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “And I’m yours, you possessive bastard.” 

Nagumo just grins ferally back. 

—

After that, the incidents didn’t so much as stop as they simply become normal. Nagumo still calls him sickenly sweet nicknames and touches him all the time, but it stops making Shin feel like he is going to shake out of his skin. He starts expecting it, leaning into the touches, responding to all the nicknames. They stop surprising him, integrating themselves into Shin's daily life like they had always been there. 

So, the incidents continue. They feel different now, though. Softer somehow. Shin supposes it’s because he’s able to take them at face value now, confident that Nagumo means it when he says “love” and “my darling.” He’s been tempered by Nagumo’s words, melting further into his grasp. It’s nice to be held. 

It doesn’t take very long before Shin decides it’s time to start adding some incidents of his own…

“Good morning, my cuddly wuddly love bear.” 

“Really?” Shin laughs. “That’s terrible. Even for you.” 

“Eh, I thought it was worth a shot.” Nagumo shrugs, coming up behind Shin and wrapping him in his arms. “You try coming up with new nicknames all the time.” 

Shin chuckles again, spinning around so he can face Nagumo. “In your dreams, loverboy,” he sings, leaning back slightly and looping his arms around Nagumo’s neck. 

“Oooh~ loverboy. I like that.” Nagumo leans down to steal a quick kiss from Shin's lips. “You should call me cute nicknames more often.” 

“Hmmm.” Shin purses his lips as if he is deep in thought. “I’ll think about it…Yoichi.”

“…” 

“Sakamoto told me your first name.” Shin continues, oblivious to the danger he just unleashed. “He said it would help me get back at you.” 

“…”

“Nagumo?” Shin questions, unused to such silence from his lover. “I can call you something else if—”

“Say it again.” Growled really more than spoken. 

“What?”

Suddenly, Nagumo's face is inches from his own. “Say it. Again.”

Oh. Oh. So that’s how it was. Well, maybe it was time to take a page out of Nagumo's book for once. “What? No please?”

“Shin-” A warning.

“No please. No name,” Shin replies snootily. 

Nagumo is silent. Just when Shin is about to give up hope, he hears it. “Please. Please, Shin,” Naguomo whispers. Shit. He kinda liked the way Nagumo sounded when he begged. Welp. Something to unpack at a later time. 

“Whatever you want… Yoichi.” At the utterance of his name, Nagumo picks him up and spins him around. He can’t help but laugh wildly. He never thought he’d feel like this. Happy. In love. 

Eventually, his feet touch the ground again, and Shin smiles. Nagumo seems unable to resist him, diving in to bite the laughter off his lips. 

As he stands there in Nagumo’s arms, Shin finds himself raising a glass in a mental toast: To a lifetime filled with a thousand incidents.

—