Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He is not worried.

Akutagawa holds Atsushi in his arms. His husband is breathing still.

He is not worried.

It’s a raspy sort of breathing. In anyone else it would be a death rattle, but Atsushi has the weretiger. Even if she is responding slowly right now. So slowly.

He is not worried.

Atsushi gasps for air, rasping for oxygen through bloody lungs. They won the fight. He can heal now. Their enemy lies a few feet from them. She will not be getting up again.

Atsushi will.

He is not worried.

It is the little details he notices. Atsushi’s torn sleeves. That he cannot see his wedding band under the deluge of blood. The way it’s only his left eye that twitches.

Finally - finally - there is a spark of blue and it rewrites the steel beam that had ran Atsushi through. The beam itself is a few feet away from them both right now. Rashomon had pulled it out so that Byakko could do her duty, but then Atsushi had started wheezing and not healing and he could do nothing but scream at the Agency’s doctor to get here over the phone and hold Atsushi and wait and wait and wait.

Not that he was worried.

Atsushi lets out a shuddering breath, then the single blue spark turns to two, turns to five, turns to dozens as they crawl under his skin and fix him and Atsushi opens his eyes.

His gaze searches. It finds. He meets Akutagawa’s eyes and he smiles. Blood cracks around his lips and he still smiles.

“There you are, weretiger. Your healing certainly took its time kicking in. Not that I was worried”

And his weretiger looks into him, into the heart of him. His enemy turned rival turned partner turned lover turned husband and smiles. “You were so fucking worried.”

He scowls at Yosano as she enters the once battlefield. He snarls at Fukuzawa when he gets there not long after. He curses out Dazai who shows up even later. He knows it’s none of their faults. It was a hard battle, harder won.

(He was worried, he hears Atsushi tells Yosano softly when he thinks Akutagawa cannot hear. It was close, he tells her)

He was not worried.

They are driven home. Kunikida drives and he stops at a burger place and hands them meals and Akutagawa wants to object that he is not a child but Atsushi devours his and then eyes the meal in his hands and he has to eat to keep a ravenous weretiger from scarfing down his food.

Together they stumble into their home. Fig greets them with enthusiasm - to the point he has to have Rashomon keep her from jumping on a fatigued Atsushi. Once he’s gotten the dog, now no longer a puppy, to calm down, Rashomon retreats into his cloak.

“Thanks. I just want to …”

He suspects Atsushi wants to finish that sentence with ‘lie down in bed’ but he doesn’t make it that far. Instead he slumps onto the couch and closes his eyes. Akutagawa should chide him and make him at least take his shoes off. But his own eyes are heavy and he doesn’t want to sleep in the bed alone and Fig is settling down at the foot of the couch and Atsushi’s chest looks comfortable.

With his own shoes still on, he all but collapses on top of Atsushi and he doesn’t remember passing out, but he doesn’t remember anything else.

He wakes to the sound of the shower. Akutagawa’s body is stiff and sore but he limps into their bathroom.

Atsushi is on the other side of the frosted glass, in the shower. The room is foggy. He sees the shape of him as he stands motionless under the spray.

“Weretiger,” he says. His voice sounds coarse to his own ears.

Atsushi doesn’t move, but he does respond, “Come in.”

He does as he is bid.

Akutagawa strips his clothing and allows it to mingle with Atsushi’s on the floor. Then he steps inside.

His lover. His husband. His partner. He sees him fully. He stands with his back to him, legs spread slightly and arms wrapped around himself. Entirely too vulnerable. He was scared too, during the fight. They fight well together. He fears one day that won’t be enough.

Akutagawa’s eyes soak up the sight. A round and inviting ass. The dimples on his hips. Broad shoulders. Toned legs. A little extra weight he carries well. Hair soft and silken silver in the damp.

He steps forward and curls his body around Atsushi.

“I love you,” he says.

“I do too,” Atsushi responds as if on instinct. Perhaps it is.

“You get a break after this, right?”

“Yes,” Atsushi says, the relief in his voice almost tangible. “President wants me to rest.”

“It’s my summer break too,” Akutagawa says.

“I know,” Atsushi responds. He sounds happier now. “You did so good with your term.”

Akutagawa huffs a laugh. He wasn’t sure how well he would take to being a student, but as it turns out he likes doing research and writing and studying. There are some blatant gaps in his knowledge given than he dropped out of school and joined the mafia, but he has Kunikida and Yosano and even Ranpo to ask questions of. He’s happy.

So happy and not worried and Atsushi is fine and they are so busy with school and work and a dog and Aktuagawa is not exhausted at all.

“Mm,” Atsushi says.

Only then does Akutagawa realize he’s gripping him by the waist. His fingertips dig into the soft skin of Atsushi’s hips.

He snorts against his neck. “Like that, weretiger?” he asks. He’s not surprised. Atsushi likes… not pain. Not exactly. He does enjoy when Akutagawa gets desperate. And he is desperate now. Desperate for Atsushi’s affection. Desperate to enjoy the chance to touch him.

He wraps his fingers around Atsushi’s cock.

“Ah!” Atsushi stumbles and only Akutagawa’s hand around him keeps him from falling. “Fuck, warn me before - ah -” He cuts off as Akutagawa starts to stroke him.

“I can stop,” Akutagawa murmurs in his ear. He feels Atsushi stiffen under his ministrations.

“Don’t you - ah - dare, brat,” Atsushi hisses. He reaches out and places both hands on the wall to steady himself as he starts to increase the pace. It’s fun, to stroke Atsushi from behind like this. The weretiger’s abnormally large cock is always a delight to palm, and tonight is no exception. Every touch makes him swear and groan and hiss. Two years of marriage and Akutagawa knows how to drive him mad.

“Atsushi,” he croons in his ear. “Cum for me.”

Oh and how his cock throbs in his palms. As Akutagawa’s long fingers run over him Atsushi withers. Eyes clamped shut and thighs trembling. He’s beautiful.

Two more strokes and then Atsushi cries out and spills onto his hand and the tiles. The mess is quickly washed away.

Akutagawa kisses his shoulder. “Good boy,” he says.

“Oh, hush,” Atsushi says with a tremulous voice.

Akutagawa smiles against his skin. “Finish up. I’ll go make dinner,” he says. Atsushi leans back and brings them even closer together.

“Chazuke?”

“Chazuke.”

Atsushi sits at his desk and fiddles with his pen. Akutagawa clocks it as soon as he walks through the office doors.

Long gone are the days when he’d have to meet Atsushi out front, or answer a million questions from the secretary or other detectives if he wanted to see the weretiger. Now he walks in and is offered greetings or a smile, or at least in Kunikida’s case, less of a frown.

“Weretiger,” he says as he approaches. Atsushi looks up from the form.

“Oh, hey. Good to see you. Great timing. During the fight did … what are you doing?” Atsushi’s question comes from the fact that Akutagawa is taking the pen out of his hand. He sets it on the desk.

“Taking a break.”

“Aren’t you off school for at least another month?”

“Yes. We are both taking a break.”

“Hm?”

“Come on. Our flight leaves in three hours.”

“Flight?”

He scowls. “Keep up, weretiger.”

“Keep up with what?”

“We’re taking a break. You and I. We never got a honeymoon, since someone decided that saving the city was more important. So we’re taking one now.”

“What about Fig?”

“She’s going to spend time with Kenji on the farm.”

“What about work?”

“I called Fukuzawa last night.”

“What about paying for this?”

“I called in some favors.”

“Where are we going?”

“Europe.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi sleeps on the plane. The fool can sleep anywhere. Their couch, their back patio, his desk, the foyer, anywhere that can at least catch a little bit of sun.

They’ve splurged for first class - or rather, Chuuya has. He hasn’t told Atsushi, but that’s where the funding for this trip has come from. He suspects Atsushi knows. They’re proud of the life they’ve carved for themselves, with Atsushi’s work as a detective and Akutagawa’s scholarships but money is tight.

Still, this life is theirs.

Akutagawa is curled up on his own seat next to Atsushi. He’s sitting near the aisle, so Atsushi could watch out the window. Now it allows him to look at his husband and enjoy the sacred simplicity of just watching him sleep.

He reaches out and brushes his longer bang past his cheek. Atsushi murmurs in his sleep and stirs, but does not awake.

Akutagawa thinks of the steel beam through his chest just days prior. His hand stills. His mind brings other images to his mind, unbidden. Atsushi hurt and dead and dying. Atsushi trying to speak through burbled blood. Atsushi throwing himself in front of him. Atsushi with his body torn apart, giving him a smile and declaring them even.

Sunset eyes watch him and he stares back, but does not see.

“Ryuunosuke,” Atsushi says. He reaches up and gently takes the hand that is hovering over his cheek. “Love, I’m here.”

Just like that, Akutagawa is back. Atsushi is not dead, nor is he. They’re alive and married and he will never take that for granted.

“You are,” he murmurs. He leans forward and kisses him.

He tries to replace the images in his mind with better ones. Atsushi going down on one knee with a ring in his hand. Fig kissing their faces with glee when they come home after a long day. Atsushi with pumpkin guts in his hair and a smile on his face as he starts a strip tease, just for Akutagawa’s eyes.

He pulls back and Atsushi catches his lips again, rather than letting him go. Akutagawa leans forward until they’re meeting in the seat and the pose is stiff and awkward but he’s happy. He’s getting a honeymoon with his husband. They’ll be landing in Paris soon. He cups his cheeks.

Someone clears their throat.

Atsushi draws back.

His cheeks are flushed as his eyes dart around the cabin. Akutagawa doesn’t care. He is not usually one for PDA, but he is thrumming with energy.

Atsushi leans in and kisses his cheek.

“Meet me in the bathroom in like … two minutes?” he says.

Akutagawa huffs a small laugh but nods and sits back in his seat. Atsushi gets up, stretches languid limbs, and meanders down the hall. Akutagawa watches him go.

After a few minutes of doing nothing but drumming his fingers on the edge of the armrest, he gets up and follows his lover.

“Ah - hang on, wait -” Atsushi draws back and then once there is room, hauls him inside.

It’s cramped.

He probably should have seen that coming. Akutagawa snorts in amusement and kisses him. There’s enough room for that much at least. They are hemmed in, but it’s not being buried under rubble, it’s not hiding in a closet and praying an enemy doesn’t hear ragged breathing. It’s the bathroom of an airplane and they are close and he is hungry.

His lips devour. Atsushi groans into the kiss and he swallows the noises. There’s not enough room for them to disrobe entirely but Atsushi wastes no time in shoving his hand down the front of Akutagawa’s pants.

“Why do you always wear such finicky clothing?” he groans.

“Shut up,” Akutagawa says.

“Make me.”

He rises to the challenge. Atsushi’s fingers wrap around his cock and start to stroke him. He’s half hard already. How can he not be? His senses are filled with nothing but Atsushi as their tongues writhe together and they grind together.

He bites. His teeth latch onto the junction of Atsushi’s shoulder and neck and the weretiger’s hand flies up to cover his own mouth.

“Fuck, you can’t do that. We’re going to get caught.”

He doesn’t care.

Instead he reaches into the weretiger’s own pants and finds him fully hard. As soon as his fingers wrap around him, pre leaks over his fist.

“Desperate,” he murmurs.

“You too,” Atsushi grunts out.

He grins, something far too manical to be called a smile, and places a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. It takes a little moving around but they are able to adjust so that Atsushi faces the door and he faces Atsushi’s back. From there he slides his pants down his thighs. They stop at the knee and his boxers soon follow.

“Hands on the doorframe. And keep quiet,” Akutagawa orders.

Atsushi groans in response.

Akutagawa rolls his eyes.

Rashomon flares from his jacket and invades Atsushi’s mouth. Like the good boy he is, he opens his jaw and lets her in. His jaw flexes and clenches around her as he bites down on the gag Akutagawa has made for him. If he will not keep himself quiet, Akutagawa shall do it for him. He doesn’t hear Atsushi complaining.

Once that is done, he draws his hands down between their bodies. Atsushi sticks his butt out and he cups it. Akutagawa adjusts his own clothing to fully pull his cock out. Atsushi roils with impatience.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small vial of lube. A mute weretiger blinks at the sound of a lid opening and his expression shifts from desperate to confused.

“You think I wouldn’t account for this possibility, weretiger?” he asks. “Now,” he says as he starts to stroke himself. “Spread your legs.”

Atsushi does, as much as his pants around his knees allows, and Akutagawa is free to sink inside.

He does so with relish.

Hurried and rushed like this means the weretiger is tight. His cock melts into the slick and the heat and he bites again, slow and deliberate and deep. Atsushi shudders. He feels it run through the core of him as Akutagawa’s teeth sink into the back of his neck and he holds Atsushi there as he pushes as far inside of him as he can right now.

“Ngh,” Atsushi groans around Rashomon.

He draws back, making Atsushi squirm, then thrusts back in.

They won’t last long. He’s able to reach around and wrap his fist around Atsushi’s cock and he can tell how desperate and needy he is. He too is already almost there. There’s a familiar pooling in his gut that he’s well familiar with at this point. Not yet, he tells himself. They do need to do this quick, but he wants to enjoy the feeling of being inside Atsushi.

Atsushi claws at the door and he has to jerk him back so he doesn’t gouge the doorframe. That just pulls him further onto his cock.

Akutagawa screws his eyes shut. Wait, he tells himself. Hang on, he pleads. He looks down Atsushi’s body as the weretiger allows himself to be manhandled. He’s disheveled. Cock out, stiff and leaking. Pants askance. Eyes screwed tightly shut and Rashomon in his mouth.

Akutagawa reaches down, grabs his hips and keeps fucking him. There’s no grace to his pace, just a rough wanting thing. He’s so fucking tight. Tight and warm and inviting and Aktuagawa swears under his breath and he knows that he’s finally hit his limit so he grabs Atsushi’s cock again and pumps him in time until he hears the wretched beast scream through Rashomon. He spills over Akutagawa’s hand as he spills inside and he freezes. There is nothing but Atsushi, the feel of him, the scent of him, the sight of him.

“Good, good, good,” he slurs in Atsushi’s ear.

“Fuck,” Atsushi groans as Rashomon retreats. Akutagawa pulls out and he swears again, “Fuck!”

Akutagawa draws back as far as he can to admire his handiwork. Atsushi’s neck and shoulders are littered with bruises. Semen is smudged between his thighs. There’s his own seed on the door. His hole is puffy and looks tender from the fast nature of this encounter.

Silently he adds this mental image to his database for material when he’s alone.

He adjusts himself as best he can. Tissue paper to clean himself - and Atsushi’s thighs, and then he hands some to the weretiger so he can wipe off the door. It’s a dance as they move around each other to get their clothing back on.

“Do I look good?” Atsushi asks when he’s finished.

“Always,” he responds.

That earns him a fond look. “You know what I mean.”

“Neither your cock, nor ass are out, so -”

“Ryuu!”

He brings a hand up to cover his face and keep from smiling. “You look fine weretiger.” He reaches out and adjusts his collar so that the bruise on his neck doesn’t show. “Do you want to heal those?”

“No. Not right now. I like the soreness?”

He nods and grabs Atsushi by his suspenders to give him a few sweeter kisses.

“Masochist,” he teases. Atsushi flushes, but doesn’t disagree. He knows better

“Yeah, well, shut up,” is the retort. Akutagawa kisses the tip of his nose.

Atsushi flushes deeper. “I’ll uh - just go back to my seat,” he says.

“I’ll follow shortly.”

Atsushi opens the door and then freezes.

“What?”

“There’s uh- someone waiting.”

Akutagawa groans and covers his face with his hands. Together the two of them slink back into their chairs. There is no mistaking what they have done. No other excuse for them all but making out in their seats and then dashing into the bathroom together.

Atsushi doesn’t appear shamed. In fact he meets the eye of everyone as he strolls back to his seat. Well, stroll would imply a casualness that he can’t quite obtain given his slight limp. Akutagawa watches him and knows he should feel shame, but all his mind can think to supply is: mine.

His wild and wonderful weretiger. His partner who can slay gods and likes scary movies even if he hides his eyes when he thinks a jump scare is about to arrive. His husband with the sunset eyes and a cute butt and an adorable laugh. A man who saw Akutagawa, heartless and vicious and terrifying and yet he still - still - somehow grew to love him.

He follows him to their seats and takes his place as Atsushi’s side.

Where he belongs.