Archive of Our Own ^beta

Little light,

lead us through the night

and if we die

burn down the forest 

The second to last time Aki sees Himeno, he's on top of her with her legs around his waist and she's reaching up to touch his face, sliding the tips of her fingers down to his chin and then up and around to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He says nothing in response to her, “Aki, Aki, Aki,” as he grips the sheets and thrusts. Nothing in response to the, “You're so precious,” that she laughs out as they catch their breath, after he grimaces when asked if he'll ever let her tie him up. 

Later, when she's resting on his chest, both of them on the verge of sleep, and she says, “Sometimes I still about the two of us getting a house somewhere,” his only reply is:

“I'm sorry.” 

He can't say what he wishes he could, can't tell her how truly precious she is because it won't mean what she wants it to, and because he's never said anything like that to anyone since his family died. 

The last time Aki sees Himeno, they're under a brilliant blue sky, surrounded by rubble, and he's fighting to save her. He's trading years of his life away, driving a hole through the bottom of a glass that's already more than half empty for even the slightest chance to keep her alive. He's fighting because despite all the broken things between them, and just like the way she regularly tells him, “Don't die, Aki,” he can't lose her either. He cannot lose her. 

But then he's dropping to his knees, and he's bleeding, but not as much as she is. She's dying even before the ghost devil materializes, vibrant red pouring from her mouth, the same shade already soaking her shirt. She's disappearing before his eyes when she tells him to cry for her- as if there has ever been a chance that he wouldn't- and he's too dizzy, too busy telling himself that this isn't real, to say anything at all. 

“Don't die, Aki,” repeats in his head over and over as his vision dims, but as the world fades to darkness, he desperately hopes that he does. 

/

When Aki wakes up, he settles into a fog that blurs the bright hospital lights into the ceiling and leaves him almost numb to the hands of the nurses checking his vitals and the doctors examining his injuries. They tell him that he should heal up nicely, that he's lucky, but he barely hears any of it. At some point he drifts off, and when he opens his eyes again, Denji and Power are sitting at his bedside. Aki doesn't register much from their visit other than that Denji confirms Himeno’s death and leaves him an apple. 

The fog doesn't leave when Himeno’s sister shows up; rather, it darkens. They look so much alike, and Aki feels as if he's looking at an image of what Himeno could have been if she hadn't held onto him so tightly. What she wanted to be, but also refused to be if she had to do it on her own. Her sister appears to be an average civilian living a relatively peaceful life, and though she speaks softly and holds sympathy in her tone, Aki spends the whole time she's in the room wishing he would just hit him. 

In a way, what she leaves him with is so much worse- letters that go back years and forwards all the way into the very recent past, all written in Himeno's hand. Letters in which she has mentioned Aki over and over: that she pestered him into getting his ears pierced; that she wanted to know if she should bring up the topic of them going private again; that she wanted to save him. 

Aki has never asked to be saved. He's never wanted to be saved and he still doesn't. His fate has been sealed since the day he witnessed his childhood home destroyed in lethal carnage, his family wiped out just like the place that served as their shelter. He's going to kill the gun devil or die trying, and if he achieves his goal and doesn't survive- so be it. His life is meaningless outside of his revenge; vengeance is the only thing he longs for, and yet Himeno… 

She never listened when he told her repeatedly that there was no chance of him leaving Public Safety. She didn't want to believe that he wasn't ever going to be anything more than her friend and work partner, no matter how many times he told her ‘no’ and to stop and to let it go. She refused to accept the death he's been barreling towards- the death he readily signed up for- with the same flippancy with which she refused to accept it whenever he told her he told her, ‘not tonight,’ and she would maneuver him into her bed anyway. 

Closing his eyes, Aki sees himself lying under her and slapping her hands away as she paws at the buttons on his clothing until her laughing turns to coaxing, turns to begging that makes him go still. He sees himself leaned against her and wrapped in her arms, worn out from crying over yet another dead member of his squad and still intoxicated enough from the drinks he and Himeno shared to let himself rest in the warmth and the illusion of safety. 

Himeno was not safe and she never listened, but she loved him. The proof is written all over the pages laid across his lap- pages that are now stained with the tears she asked Aki to cry for her- and his cigarette wouldn't light and Himeno is gone. She's gone because she died trying to save a man who might as well be a walking corpse, and as much as he knows that her choice was hers alone and thus not his responsibility, a part of him also feels like he killed her. 

She loved him and he hates himself. He hates himself for how he's honoring her very last wish while disregarding all the others. He hates himself because she sacrificed herself even though he only has two years left now, and with how long Himeno had been a devil hunter before he showed up, had she survived the gunshot wound, she could have outlived him. Perhaps she could've gone on to join the private sector, and fallen in love with someone stable and sane, and bought that house with the garden she sometimes talked about. She could have really lived had she not been so adamant about holding onto him, and had he not been too weak to let go of her. 

Aki hates himself because when two of his superiors had barged into the room to inform him that he needed to make yet another contract, he’d agreed to do it, even though it's the last thing Himeno would have wanted. He can almost picture her sitting on the edge of his bed right now, shaking her head and saying, ‘Come on, Aki. You can't be planning to give more of yourself away. Haven't devils taken enough from you? Why don't you live, huh? Like you expected me to do without you- why don't you try it?’ 

But Aki doesn't know how to live anymore. It's likely that he never did, when his whole life, all he's ever done is strive for the impossible. Even before the gun devil attack, he was only ever trying to get his parents to see him- to just pretend, if they had to, that he mattered as much as Taiyo did. Sometimes he wonders if they did, in fact, see him and all the pathetic little pieces he’s made of. If they saw through him; if they were aware that their first son was hopeless and needy and emptier than a slipcast mold- altogether not worth it. He wonders if now, their spirits are watching his quest for revenge and seeing it as the blind sprint towards death that it is. 

Would they be ashamed of him? Yes, Aki thinks, probably. There's a high likelihood that his parents would have preferred it if he'd gone to university, prepared for a normal career, met some kind young woman who would mend his broken parts and eventually give him a family of his own to bring along whenever he visits the grave in Hokkaido. He can't even picture it. 

Instead, he’s agreed to double down, to prove his dedication to Public Safety yet again, as if he's ever given them reason to doubt him. He’s wasting his survival by once more choosing death, whereas Himeno chose him until the last moment, and these thoughts pile up like sharp stones as the fog starts to dissipate, leaving the world feeling glaringly vivid. Leaving Aki aware when all he wants to be is numb. 

He blinks, looking at the door and the walls, the empty space enveloping him and the way his hands shake when he holds them- palms up- in front of him. He's alone. The wound hidden beneath his hospital robe throbs. The apple that Denji left him is gone. 

/

Denji has decided that he hates dying. Not that he liked it before, even though the first time had to be the worst. That time he was actually afraid, because dying meant being gone for good and that the possibility of achieving anything he spent so long dreaming about would disappear for him forever. The fear kinda went away after that time, which is probably just what happens once you realize that no matter what's done to you you're not gonna die for real. Not as if that makes it not suck, but Denji doesn't miss the fear part. 

The hating dying part seems to be getting worse, though. Ever since the first death, he's been impaled, cut in half, dismembered, and a few other things he doesn't really want to think about, but those had been spaced out far enough that he'd be long past thinking about one brutal injury before the next one happened. Not so for training with Kishibe. Every day, Denji has to die over and over until there are no more blood bags or the old man gets too bored to continue. How the guy can move the way he does at his age, on top of being drunk, is pretty damn impressive. Also annoying. Mostly because Kishibe keeps killing him. 

At first, Denji thought it was just the feeling involved with dying and being brought back. The crunch of jagged bone fragments knitting back together and the pull of sliced up flesh; it's gross and uncomfortable even without the pain that comes first. The way that after so many resurrections, his brain starts feeling scrambled and out of sorts as if it can't keep up with having to stop and start so many times in a row. While that's all bad and stuff, it isn't all; isn’t it, and he kinda wishes he hadn't figured out what it is. 

Maybe he wouldn't have figured it out at all if he hadn’t heard Aki crying through the door in the hospital, because that got Denji thinking. He's still thinking, in an off and on type of way. He'd rather not have any of this shit going through his head, but the topic seems to have a ton of detours all over his brain, as no matter where he tries to turn, he ends up right back in front of it. It being that he isn't a normal person and everything that means. 

Not that he doesn't know that; he isn't the kind of stupid that's like, really really dumb and can't pick up on anything. He's starting to think he's never been normal, if Aki’s wide-eyed silences in response to stuff like how Denji never went to school, and didn't know washing machines existed in people's homes, and had a devil as a pet are anything to go by. He's definitely not normal now that he can turn into chainsaws. And maybe he’s not sure exactly what normal is, but he knows that it isn't not being sad when people get brutally slaughtered. It isn't having a devil heart instead of a human one. 

It isn't not being able to fucking die. 

Denji also knows that being normal sorta seems like a requirement for being happy. Not that he knows a lot of people that are normal. Himeno is gone now, but she came across that way and seemed pretty happy. The same for Makima-san. Everyone else is weird. Power swings back and forth between joy and rage so fast it gives Denji whiplash, but she has a devil brain so she doesn't count. Aki gets angry sometimes, but is mostly just grumpy, even though in the hospital he seemed full-on depressed. The stuttering girl with the hair clips cries too much. Kishibe is a human weapon fueled by booze. None of them are normal. Power aside, none of them seem happy. 

And Denji wants to be happy. Only a couple months ago, he thought he knew everything he’d need to make himself the happiest man on earth, but now he has or has done a whole bunch of shit on his list and he's still just… Here. 

Curled up on Aki's floor, exhausted but unable to sleep, and staring at the television but not exactly watching it. Instead of thinking about the boobs he's held and the (girl’s) lips he's kissed and the jam he gets to eat every day if he wants it and the smell of Makima-san's perfume, he's thinking about how empty his arms feel without Pochita’s fat little body curled up in them. He's thinking about the sound of Aki sobbing in a hospital room. He's thinking way too much, and even though his stomach is somewhat full from the takeout he and Power picked up earlier on the way home, he's still hungry for… something. 

Something he doesn't have, and he has no clue how he knows that it's something he needs but he does, and he wants it, and he's probably not going to get it until he figures out what it is. Which he feels like he won't. 

It's these stupid, circular thoughts that Denji is stuck in when he hears the front door open, and that’s just about the last noise he expected. He lifts his head and there in the entryway is Aki, looking slumped and weary and so pale he could be a corpse, but his hair is up and he's in his work suit. Seeing him brings to mind the first time he almost died, in the hotel with the knife that was supposed to end up in Denji's guts instead, and god, that was so dumb and so shitty. 

For the second time, Denji wonders if he'd be sad enough to cry if Aki died, this time including that time they made out and the blowjob in his consideration, since he'd for sure miss getting to do that, even if it only happened once. Nah, he tells himself, don't think so. 

That thought is affirmed when the first thing Aki says as he slips his shoes off is, “Why is there a hole in the door?” 

Denji scowls at him, watching the way Aki's eyes narrow as they sweep over the apartment- the full trash bag in the corner and takeout containers all over the table. At least they're empty. And the dishes from dinner are washed, even if putting them away got forgotten. “Kishibe was killing me and Powy for training.” 

“Powy?” 

Denji shrugs because the nickname works for him, and Power doesn't hate it, and something about being repeatedly and simultaneously slaughtered by a crazy old dude has made way for a lot of bonding over these past few days. “Yeah, we're pretty tight now. You just get outa the hospital?”

“No, I was at the office. Paperwork,” Aki says, removing his suit jacket and draping it over his arm. “I'm surprised the two of you left the house intact this time.” 

Considering the amount of yelling and threats that had taken place the last time Aki got back from being hospitalized and saw the place thoroughly trashed, there's no reason he should be so shocked. It isn't like Denji enjoys getting screamed at. 

“Yeah, dude. I'm pretty fucking responsible.” 

“I see.” Aki's voice is flat in the way that could mean he's being totally sarcastic or that he's too tired to give a shit about sounding and looking like a robot. Might be both. Or maybe he's just sad. If so, he looks nice when he's sad, but it could just be that it doesn't matter what expression he's got going on because he's pretty. Really pretty, and since Denji has come to terms with that, he lets the thought drag his mind down a path he likes a lot better than the track it's been lapping as of late. 

He still needs to return the favor for the head Aki gave him, because he's not about to be in debt for that kind of thing and he hasn't been able to think of something equivalent to a blowjob. Not that Denji wants to suck his dick, or anyone's dick, but he does want his own dick sucked again and Aki hasn't offered, and when Denji gave in and asked the night before the ramen shop disaster, he just got told to go back to bed. Could be that he needs to even the score. He thinks he might be able to handle doing that. 

“You want me to suck your dick?” 

The reaction Aki gives leaves Denji wondering what the hell is wrong with him, because if he was asked that right now, he'd have already answered in the affirmative. He wouldn't be standing there blinking like a dumbass. 

“What…” Aki starts and doesn't finish, looking away and running a hand through his bangs. “Why are you asking me that right now?” 

Yeah, this response isn't making any sense. Denji was expecting a yes or a no, not something he'd have to reply to.

“Uh, 'cause it feels good? And like, I still owe you from last time.” That makes Aki frown- definitely not the right answer. “And it's… um… relaxing?” 

Aki shakes his head. “No,” he replies, and then he disappears down the hall before Denji gets a chance to say anything else. 

/

Apparently, there’s a special kind of tired that’s only discoverable via training every damn day with Kishibe. A kind of tired that feels like a pair of fingers: one churning up Denji's brain, and another stirring around the bile in his stomach. Fingers with sharp nails like the ones that Power is digging into his shoulders as he holds up her legs so that she can ride on his back. They're supposed to be taking turns carrying each other, which was Denji’s idea, and it also was his idea that they draw straws- blades of grass, actually- to decide who would go first. He fucking lost. 

“Hey, Powy…” Denji stops on the side of the road, letting go of Power's legs so that she drops onto her feet. “I literally can't.” 

“You said you would be the horse! I can't be the horse because I won!” Power protests, smacking the back of Denji's head with, thankfully, a lot less force than usual. “We will proceed as before. Now!” 

“Dude, I can't. I'm gonna fall over, and then I'll drop you and you'll be even more pissed.” 

“Hmm… Do you need additional blood? I might be willing to spare some, but it won't be free.” 

Denji makes a face that he hopes expresses his thoughts of, bleh. He's had enough blood today that the smell of it still clinging to his skin in a film of flaky, dried, disgustingness is almost enough to make him hurl. Drinking blood to heal or come back to life is one thing. Drinking it just because, the way Power likes to do, is gross. Plus, it probably wouldn't fix this kind of exhaustion, because it hasn't before. 

“Nah, I want udon. Maybe curry udon, ‘cause Makima-san likes that kind. Or uh… Donuts. Or cake. And fried chicken, and gyoza, and…” Yeah, Denji's hungry as fuck, and it's funny that he didn't notice all that much earlier. Maybe it was because the pain and blood loss and blood-drinking was kinda making him nauseous, or it could've been the stress of trying to get a single hit in on Kishibe before dying again. Could've been a lot of things. “The puffy buns with the stuff in ‘em. And-” 

“We should buy these things then,” Power says, grabbing Denji's arm so that he's pulled along when she starts walking. “All of them.” 

“We ain't got any money, though,” Denji replies, dragging his feet a bit. He spent the last of his own money on food, the same day that Aki came home after being in the hospital. (The day Aki decided to be a stupid asshole who didn't want a blowjob which meant that Denji didn't get one either.) The dude hasn't even been cooking, which has meant eating super toast and ramen for every meal over the past seventy-two hours. 

“I do. A secret stash, if you will.” 

“No way you have a secret fucking stash, liar.” 

“I do not lie! I never lie!” Power yells, shaking Denji so hard that he almost trips over his own feet. “‘Tis from Topknot. He gave me money this morning so that we could get food this night. I was instructed to hand it over to you for safe keeping, but I am better at keeping safe, as Kishibe cannot truly kill me, so I kept it.” 

“For real?” The sun may be setting, but suddenly the world looks a lot brighter, and Denji feels the slightest bit more awake. 

“I have it hidden in my shoe, down by my toes to keep it clean, since the mortals hoarding the food don't appreciate when their payment is decorated with blood.” 

The idea of cash that's been chilling with Power's stinky foot all day being clean is… It doesn't fit, but by now, Denji knows better than to bring that up. 

They end up with donuts and pork gyoza, but there isn't enough money for anything else, not that either of them are complaining as they tuck themselves away in an alley to eat. As with every other time they've bought takeout after death training, they were only served after Denji pulled out his Public Safety badge and made up some shit about slaying devils and needing food to keep protecting the public. It isn't all a lie; devils have definitely been slain today- just not the monster-looking type the employees are probably picturing. 

Whatever. It works, and now Denji’s sitting across from Power on the ground with the box of donuts resting in his lap and she has the gyoza in hers, and they're kinda just reaching over whenever they want what the other has. 

“We need to fix Topknot,” Power says with her mouth full and… something dripping down her chin. It's donut filling of some sort, but it's hard to tell what kind, as Denji asked for one of everything that's good, and he has no clue what those flavors include since he can't exactly read a menu. “I suspect the hospital released him too early. He's clearly still broken.” 

“What d’you mean?” Denji’s mouth is also full of donut, but he wipes away the jelly that gets all over his face with his wrist because, unlike Power, he isn't fucking nasty. Also unlike Power, he doubts the hospital would've let Aki out if he wasn't completely fixed. That has to be against the rules for places like that. “I'm pretty sure he's fine, since he's back at work and shit.” 

Granted, Aki is apparently just doing office work and not patrol stuff at the moment, but that doesn't mean he's still hurt. 

“Then why does he lie in bed, and not make feasts for us, and not clean?” 

“Oh,” Denji says, shrugging now that he realizes Power isn't talking about Aki being injured. “I think he's just sad or something.” 

“Sad?” Power tilts her head, screwing up her eyebrows. “Why would he be sad?” 

“‘Cause his partner died, probably.” 

“Dumb human reasons make no sense to me.” 

Denji somewhat gets her confusion because he still can't find it in him to be sad after all these days, so he's mostly given up on wondering if it'll happen. At the same time, he's also realized by now that after working together for so long, Aki might’ve seen Himeno as the type of important friend that Denji had in Pochita. He can understand being sad about losing someone like that, even if he doesn't think he's ever been Aki levels of sad. 

“Himeno was probably like-” Denji stops himself when Power just starts looking more confused. “The eyepatch chick was like his version of Meowy, I guess. You went crazy when the bat devil took your cat, even though it wasn't even dead.” 

Power's face falls for a second, then she blinks rapidly and shakes her head. “Meowy is much more important than a measly human. I would not mourn the loss of either you or Topknot like I would a cat.” 

“Yeah, well I wouldn't mourn you either.” 

“Because, like me, you are blessed to be a devil. We have much greater heights of intellect and sophistication. Now, how do we fix Topknot’s sadness?” 

“You don't fix it. I think you just have to wait for it to go away,” Denji says, not feeling all that hungry anymore. He's eaten a decent amount though; not as much as he planned, but maybe he underestimated the emptiness of his stomach. “Or like, Hayapai is all about revenge and stuff, so when we find the dude who shot Himeno, maybe he can fight him and then he'll get better.” 

“Revenge?” 

“Yeah, I don't get Aki's whole way of doing revenge, ‘cause he lets it make him all serious, but when the zombies cut up me and Pochita so he had to become my heart, I got revenge by murdering the fuck out of 'em. Felt pretty good.” 

“Zombies?” 

“Uh-huh. A whole shit ton. Ripping up the zombies was the first time I used the chainsaws.” 

“Interesting,” Power says. “I was also pleased after seeing you'd killed the bat devil.” 

“Exactly. So there's my plan for fixing Aki. Means we ain’t gotta do anything.” Seeing that Power seems satisfied enough by his answer, Denji closes and picks up the box containing the rest of the donuts and then braces his free arm against the wall to stand. “C’mon, let's go. My ass hurts from sitting here.” 

/

The light is on in Aki's room when they get home, so Denji bribes Power to let him take a bath first by offering her all the leftover donuts. She reluctantly agrees, and he's glad she knows that staying covered in blood is against the rules, so there's a ninety percent chance that she’ll actually bathe without him having to physically force her into the tub. 

There's also a- way smaller- chance of Aki maybe wanting to do stuff, since the time in which success was not had, the light was off, so as soon as Denji finishes up in the bathroom, he goes to knock. 

“What?” 

Denji opens the door and pokes his head in. Aki is lying stomach-down on his bed, but he turns so that his face is visible. 

“Can I come in?” 

“I don't care.” 

That's an improvement from the last attempt’s answer of, ‘go away,’ so Denji steps inside, shuts the door, and pauses there. “Can I, like, sit?” 

“Fine,” Aki says, and Denji goes to sit on the edge of the mattress, resting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin on his fists. “What do you want this time?” 

“Same thing as last time, but it's cool if you don't wanna.” When he doesn't get a reply, Denji continues. “Power was talking about how you're being weird. She's worried, I think. Kinda.” 

“She shouldn't be.” Aki rubs one eye- dull and outlined with bags that have their own bags under them- then the other with the side of his hand. He looks fucking miserable. Denji wants to grab his face and smooth his features back into their usual calm expression. Or just a different one that's less depressing. Maybe he's a little bit worried too, but not enough to admit it. 

“Dude, you're like… I dunno. It's none of my fucking business and I don't really give a shit, but… You're ok, right?” 

Aki sighs, shifting so that he's on his side. “I will be.”

“That's, um, good.” 

“Denji, I'm not going to blow you.” 

“The hell? I ain't even asked yet.”

“Now you don't have to, since you have your answer.” 

Well, shit. This isn't going too great, though Denji isn't exactly surprised. He's been wondering if Aki doing that to him might’ve been a one-time thing, even though he said he'd think about doing it again, and he should be thinking about it real seriously, because Denji has practiced being quieter when he jerks off, just like he was told to.

Unless the problem is something else. Something a bit more obvious. “Do you not want to because you said you're, like… not gay?” 

“I swear to god, if you-” Aki interrupts himself with another sigh, this one sounding groany and a lot more annoyed than the last one. “I don't plan on explaining this again, so try to listen. If I was only into women, I'd be straight. If I was only into men, I'd be gay. I'm not only into anything. Bisexuality is a thing, so stop getting in these moods where you ask if I'm gay or you're gay over and over.” 

“Bi-sex-what?”

“It means liking both.” 

“And that ain't gay?” 

“Fucking hell…” Aki looks like he's about two-and-a-half seconds away from ordering Denji to get out. 

“Ok, ok, I get it. No more asking.” That's not quite true; Denji’s still confused as fuck because Aki's doing a shit job of answering questions. What's clear is that it's time to change tactics. “Can we make out?” 

“Will that get you to shut up?” 

“Yep.” 

“Whatever.”

Denji climbs onto the bed, letting Aki manhandle him so that they're lying facing each other. Letting him pull his hair a little too hard, and for a second he flashes back to being on his knees in a hotel room, but then Aki kisses him even harder and he's able to push the memory away. This isn't like last time; it's rough and rushed, and Aki's not saying anything like he usually does. When he tugs down his own sweatpants down and grabs Denji's hand to place it over his cock, Denji tenses, but then he's being pulled out of his shorts, and the fingers that wrap around his dick feel so fucking good. 

He keeps forgetting what he's supposed to be doing, panting into Aki's mouth more than he's kissing him and probably giving the worst handjob anyone's ever gotten in the history of the world. It's all ok, though, because the way Aki is touching him is scrambling his brain- especially when he twists his wrist while stroking up to the tip of Denji's cock, and when he rubs his thumb over a spot right below the head. 

Denji's barely aware of his own hand slowing to a stop, or of the fist that's still in his hair until his head is being yanked back. He feels Aki's nose brush against his throat, then teeth scraping lightly across his skin right on top of his pulse, and that combined with the warmth and friction around his cock renders all of his effort put towards being quiet useless as he comes. 

Aki lets go of his hair, lets go of his dick, and when his hand closes around Denji's to work it up and down, the best Denji can do is curl his fingers a bit more in an attempt to make what he's half-heartedly doing suck a bit less, too brainless and boneless to offer any more effort. He's starting to get bored by the time Aki finishes, boredom that disappears pretty quickly upon seeing him squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lip and shiver. 

Maybe Denji should’ve been looking at his face last time too. 

He accepts the tissue that's passed to him, licking his hand off before drying it because he's learned that dried spit residue feels less gross than dried cum residue, but also because Aki always watches. Then he wipes up the mess that dripped onto his belly and the bottom of his shirt before fixing his clothes. Aki gets out of bed, taking the dirty tissue to throw to the trash on his way to grab his cigarettes, and Denji's just opening his mouth to ask if he can maybe sleep here when he's interrupted. 

“We can't do this anymore,” Aki says, his voice pitched lower than usual and extremely soft. 

“What?”

“Go to your own room.” 

“Dude, the fuck?” Denji pushes himself into a sitting position, annoyed and confused until he sees Aki's face- the crease between his eyebrows and his downturned mouth. He didn't know it was possible for someone to look so upset after getting off. “You ok?”

“Fucking leave, Denji.”

“Ok, fine. Whatever.” As much as Denji wants to tell Aki that he's being a pissy little bitch, he holds it in as he lets himself out into the hallway. Aki's clearly still pretty fucked up about things, and just as much as Denji doesn’t want to get involved, he also doesn't want to make shit worse. It would've been nice to get to be lazy and stay in Aki's bed, but if the guy needs his space to be sad, Denji's not about to get in the way of that. 

He got what he wanted anyway- and so did Aki- so there's no need to think about it anymore. Even if there was, he's tired as hell. 

Power is already in their bedroom, seemingly asleep at first, but then she sits up on her futon when Denji flops onto his side on his bed. 

“Don’t,” he gets out, right before she opens her mouth anyway. 

“Did you have sex with Topknot again?” Power asks, her eyes glinting in the dark the same way her cat’s do. “Will that make him cook for us?” 

“I already told you. We don't fuck.” 

“Oh. Then what is it you were doing?” 

“Stuff,” Denji says, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn't just touching Aki's dick.

“What stuff?” 

“Why do you care?” 

“Because I know you speak lies. You smell the same as you did after you had sex with him before.” 

Now Denji sits up, blinking in disbelief at Power who stares at him blankly. “We never had sex. The hell are you talking about?”

“Is sex not where you enjoy your human genitalia with another? I'm correct, as I saw it in your magazines. I also saw it in the movie you found in that dead mortal’s home while we were on patrol. You told me to leave the room, but I did not. I watched it through a gap in the door, and they made noises nearly equivalent to yours.” 

“You were watching me?” 

“Nay, I watched the film.” 

“That was sex. Congratulations, you know what it is. I ain't doing that with Aki.” 

“Is it because neither you nor Topknot have breasts?” 

“I mean, kinda? Fucking a dude doesn't count, anyway.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Groaning, Denji lies back down. “Would you drop it? I'm tired as fuck and tomorrow we've gotta deal with getting killed again. Go to sleep.” 

“I will! I will sleep. I'll do it better than you!” 

Denji doesn't argue with that; he kinda can't when she's probably right. He closes his eyes in the newfound quiet, trying to clear his mind of all the bullshit Power just dumped on him in order to drift off. Instead he ends up thinking about what Aki said- that they can't keep doing the stuff they've been doing. He hadn't taken it too seriously when he heard it, since the time before this, Aki had been making stupid excuses about Denji being sixteen and then still sucked him off anyway. 

Maybe they really should stop, though. It's not like they're ever gonna have sex, and now that Denji knows what handjobs and blowjobs are like, he doesn't really have an excuse to still be doing stuff with Aki beyond that it feels good. The issue is that the feeling good part is sorta addicting, and it's nice to have somebody want him like that, too. Someone who Denji also- 

He cuts that train of thought into little pieces and starts trying harder to fall asleep. 

/

Two days later, Denji's put on a team sent to capture the people responsible for the gun attack on Public Safety, and for once everything goes pretty much how it's supposed to. He ends up being the one assigned to take down the katana-head guy with the stupid sideburns, and he feels like a badass when he manages to do so without getting killed or needing any help. Still, he's glad that it's Aki who shows up to call the cops.

Denji realizes that he was right about what he'd told Power a few days ago while in the middle of potentially losing the nut-kicking contest (but only because he's having a hard time keeping up with who's making katana-head scream louder.) He was right that revenge would fix Aki, even if this isn't at all the kind of revenge that had gone through Denji's head when he’d that thought originally. 

Or maybe it's not the revenge, and it's just getting to let off steam or something. All he knows is that Aki is smiling. Seriously-for-real smiling, and he looks kind of like a kid right now and not the grouchy adult who likes to lecture people and vacuum every week that he is. He’s smiling with his mouth open and all his super-straight teeth showing, and crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his ponytail not all that neat anymore. 

Denji has known that he likes Aki's little smiles a lot more than he likes his annoyed face or his brooding face, and less than he likes how Aki looks when he has Denji’s dick in his mouth. He'll probably end up changing his mind later, but right now, he thinks he might like this smile the best. 

/

A lot of easy revenge ends up being both literally and figuratively handed to Aki on a day where he goes into the assigned mission fully intending to die. Or, perhaps not intending to, but also not caring either way- so much so that he decides it might be alright to pass a devil, who drains years of one's life away like charge from a battery, a handkerchief, and then does just that. Even when he's dodging attacks by the ghost devil- and cursing himself for not having been worth a contract that enhanced his physical ability instead of depending on it in order to be useful- he's thinking of all the wrong things. 

Of Himeno's letters expressing her desire for him to leave his suicide mission. Of the fact that he only has two years left and no more, regardless of whether the gun devil is tracked down in that period of time. And- when the ghost devil’s icy hands wrap around his throat- of Himeno demanding that he live so he can cry for her, and Aki thinks, I've already cried for you, so can I die now? But then the ghost devil drops him and hands him a cigarette with Himeno’s writing on it, and Aki decides that he owes his former partner, lover, friend to not have the devil that consumed her be controlled any longer by the woman behind the incident that led to her death. 

The woman who is killed via the snake devil, and as for the man who can turn his body into katana- Denji handles him. Then, just like the ghost devil, he presents another chance for easy revenge- a chance Aki almost turns down.

Only to change his mind when he looks at Himeno's cigarette and remembers the way Himeno had laughed and laughed when he stuck gum onto the clothing of one of her old partner’s girlfriends when they slapped her. He wonders if that's what the words written on the cigarette mean, and if that’s what Himeno would want for him. If deep down, despite her letters and her desperation to save him, she knew that the desire for vengeance is written in Aki's blood and simply longed for him to stop killing himself chasing after it. Maybe this realization should have come a long time ago, and now it's a little too late for him to change course but…

Aki stands up, and despite not giving a shit about the prize he's offered, proceeds to kick the half-naked, handcuffed prisoner in the balls, and he laughs just like Himeno would if she were here. 

The way Denji looks at him after the man lies unconscious in front of them is enough to make heat that isn't from exertion rise to Aki’s face. He clears his throat, then asks, “Who won?” 

“Uh…” Denji glances down at the katana-man, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dunno. The yelling all kinda blended together, so I lost track. He screamed a lot louder than you did though.”

Aki wishes he had a cigarette- one that doesn't hold any meaning beyond the fact that it'll give him a nice buzz, because he thinks he’d rather be alone when he smokes Himeno’s. He feels alive and fully awake; feels the steady beating of his heart and the push of blood through his veins and arteries. 

“Probably because he was being kicked by two people, one who isn't a scrawny punk,” he replies.

Surprisingly, Denji picks on the insult immediately. “Hey!” 

“Since you lost track, I won your contest.” 

Even more surprising is that Denji gives no protest to that claim, just a lopsided grin as he says, “Yeah, I'll let you have that one.” 

For the first time in a while, Aki isn't thinking- not about the way he'd said that whatever is going on between them needs to stop. Not at all, when he grabs Denji's arm to yank him closer and not when he kisses him, open mouthed and messy and brief, as the cops will be here any minute. He earns himself a cut on his upper lip courtesy of one of Denji's teeth, but when he pulls back, Denji is staring at him stunned, silent and blushing. 

“Give that piece of shit some blood so we don't get in trouble,” Aki says, and then he walks a few meters away to sit and stare at the sky. 

/

Denji doesn't pester him for sex that night, not that they get any privacy to do anything, as the two of them and Power end up eating way too much food and then passing out at the table. The next night, Aki is too mentally ragged from dealing with his new partner who might be the laziest creature he's ever met, and so he turns the lights off his room early and pretends to sleep so that he won't be bothered. The night after that… Well, he's feeling a bit rash. 

He's spent the day cleaning every square-meter of the apartment, which had lapsed into a skin-crawling inducing mess during and after his hospital stay. While it wasn't as bad as he'd expected, it was enough to keep him busy into the afternoon. After that, he cooked, ate, took a bath, and now, nothing.

Power is still at headquarters, getting her blood devil abilities reduced back to a level that the bureau considers manageable. Denji is out somewhere- on a date with Makima, he'd said, but Aki isn't sure to what extent it's actually a real date. On one hand, he gets that Makima has determined that appealing to Denji's baser instincts is the best way to keep him in line. On the other, Aki doesn't get why she takes it so far. 

Not that he has any room to critique what he might see as lack of professionalism in his boss when he's Denji's senior and has been hooking up with him anyway. He has even less room to judge when he's sitting up late into the night, waiting for Denji to get home with a cup of spiked juice in his hand and a bottle of shochu open on the table. 

The fact that Aki is waiting at all is embarrassing, and that only makes him drink more. Perhaps if he gets drunk enough, he won't do anything stupid when Denji returns. So far, aside from kissing him the other day, Aki has only controlled what's happened between them but he's never instigated. Now, he's concerned that he might, and that it will involve something like pushing Denji against a wall. Equally concerning is what that means. 

He's not ignorant enough to think he feels nothing more than roomate-type-things towards Denji, but he was foolish enough to think it wouldn't reach this point. Himeno was the only person he's felt anything romantic towards since he became an adult- aside from his unrequited feelings for Makima- but those had died down after she repeatedly… After a few experiences of her pushing and pushing when he wasn't interested in having sex with her. Since then, he's thought that maybe he isn't capable of developing romantic feelings for anyone else, not that what he feels for Denji is anything like that. 

But it is something. It's there, and it won't go away. 

It's protectiveness, comradery of a sort, a lot of annoyance that Aki doubts is ever going to lessen. And attraction, he admits to himself, but that's as far as he's willing to go, and somewhere in the haze of these thoughts, he falls asleep. 

/

He wakes up to liquid being sprayed all over his face and sounds of choking and sputtering, then of something being gulped down. Of a cup smacking down on the table, and- Shit. This is happening again? 

“Damn, you don't have anything that ain't alcohol?” 

Keeping his eyes closed, Aki straightens up and lifts his shirt to wipe off his face. When he opens them, he finds Denji sitting across from him, scowling but still licking his lips. “You're the one who kept drinking it, and it's pretty obvious what's in that bottle.” 

“Yeah, it was gross last time too,” Denji says, and Aki knew it. He fucking knew that this little shit had been drinking out of his bottle. 

“You're a delinquent.” 

“That's bad, right?” 

“Very,” Aki replies, getting up to add more juice to his cup. If Denji is going to be drunk, then Aki is going to get even more drunk, and he's going to not think about what they shouldn't do- what he said they couldn't do. He's going to be an asshole, and a terrible, selfish person, and he's going to hope he doesn't feel bad about it in the morning. “How was your date?”

“Uh… It was ok.” Denji sounds a lot less excited than anticipated, in complete opposition with how he'd been bouncing off the walls earlier. “We saw an awesome movie.”

“Only one?”

“We saw a bunch of shitty movies too. I think Makima-san had a good time, though.” 

Did you? Aki thinks of asking, but he already knows what the answer will be, whether or not it's truthful. If Makima planned their date, then she likely did enjoy herself on it, and that would be all Denji was thinking about- whether she was having fun and what that might potentially get him, if not now, then in the future. 

“Why were you drinking by yourself?” Denji asks. “Ain't that boring?” 

“It seemed fitting.” Aki kicks a cushion over so he can sit beside Denji instead of across from him and grabs the shochu, dumping some into his cup and swishing the mixture around. When he considers it to be as blended as it's going to get without swirling his finger in it, he chugs about half of it down in a single go. 

He really should have bought more cigarettes after chainsmoking his way through the last pack. Maybe if he had nicotine, he would have been able to reign himself in before he started drinking, before he got to the point where he's pouring more liquor into his cup and not stopping Denji from stealing sips. 

“Are you still willing to blow me?” Aki asks, because he might as well get this over with. 

Denji’s eyes widen, the flush already present on his cheeks from the alcohol darkening further. “I guess, if you do me too. Wait, why'd you keep saying no if you want me to?”

“Because I was sober and you have shark teeth.” It's an honest enough answer, at least for the part of the reason that Aki can explain. The rest is a mixture of disorganized, half understood rationalizations that start with Denji's lack of awareness regarding his own sexuality and end with thoughts like, I don't know. 

“Fuck off! No, I don't,” Denji protests, giving Aki a look as if he's having to counter a statement that's irrational rather than highly accurate. “They're like Pochita’s teeth.” 

“I've never seen Pochita’s teeth, so I can't make that comparison.” Aki doesn't even know exactly what this Pochita thing was. It was the chainsaw devil, apparently, but Denji always calls it a dog, though it isn't hard to picture him cuddled up with a sentient power tool that decided he was too simple to be worth cutting to pieces. “What's your answer?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?” 

Denji twists his mouth, turning his eyes to the ceiling as if he really does want to reconsider his uncertain response. After a moment he shifts forward onto his hands and knees. “No. But you promise you're gonna suck me off after?” 

“Promise,” Aki says. He's always been more than alright with being responsible for making himself come, something he probably picked up from Himeno because he appreciated it when she'd get herself off when he wasn't able to. At the same time, he'd never ask that of Denji. Maybe it's that Denji is so inexperienced and curious, but Aki wants him to enjoy himself and not just participate. 

“‘Kay, well...” 

Assuming that's Denji-speak for, ‘Get on with it,’ Aki pulls his pants down enough to free his dick, working it in his fist until he's fully hard and then reclining to sit propped up by his hands on the floor behind him. The way Denji approaches him is like a deer trying to decide if it should get out of the path of a speeding train, too blinded by the headlights to make up its mind. Maybe if Aki wasn't intoxicated, he'd give that more than a second of fleeting notice, but as things are, he's too caught up in the feeling of a hand closing around him and the whisper of warm breath puffing from a slight distance over the head of his cock. 

“Have you ever done this before?” He asks.

Denji makes a face that, while not appearing as an indication of being upset, is altogether impossible to read. 

“Uh, yeah, I have.” He leans closer, sweeping his tongue over the drop of pre-cum about to drip down from the tip of Aki's cock. ”Huh… That's kinda like, less gross than cum.” 

‘Uh, yeah,’ my fucking ass, Aki thinks. A truer answer would likely be, ‘Uh, never,’ but he doesn't feel like pointing that out right now when Denji's mouth is closing around him. It isn't great, and there's no finesse in anything that Denji is doing with his lips or tongue, but he's carefully watching his teeth as much as he also seems to be watching his throat, awkwardly working his hand around what he isn't allowing into his mouth. 

And it is what he is and isn't allowing, because Aki has seen him swallow huge pieces of food without actually chewing, as if he doesn't have a gag reflex at all, even though right now he's acting as if he does. Still, it's a hot wet mouth around Aki's dick, and even though it's tentative rather than overeager as he'd imagined it would be, the pull and friction is just enough where he doesn't have to worry that he'll be unable to come from it. 

Everything else isn't difficult to overlook, at least until Denji takes him in a little further so that Aki's cock brushes the place where his hard palate begins to soften and immediately draws back. Until his eyes slide up to Aki's face- not in a way that seems like he's looking to reassure himself that he's doing a good job and more like he's trying to make sure he's not fucking up. Like he's not enjoying himself in the slightest but is trying to get past that for Aki's sake. 

There's no way they've been doing this for more than thirty seconds, but Aki decides that's enough. He doesn't know if Denji has been offering something he really didn't want to do- and maybe he has, considering what he said the other night about owing Aki for before- or if this just isn't how he thought it would be. Whatever the problem is, it has Aki recoiling away from the pleasure he feels and pushing Denji up off his cock. 

“Are you afraid of choking?” Aki asks, uncertain of what to say, but that seems to be a decent place to start. 

Denji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, pinning his gaze on the table and then the floor. “Sorta. I guess.” 

“You don't have to pretend you've been with another man before. I don't care.”

“I wasn't lying. It was just… like, a long time ago.” Denji's shoulders slump a bit more than his usual slouched posture. “Was it that bad?” 

“It wasn't bad, you just… It isn't good if you're hating it the whole time,” Aki replies. 

“I didn't hate it. I ate some ice cream on the way home, and I don't wanna puke.” 

In his muddled state of drunkenness, Aki can't help letting out a breath of laughter, scolding himself for not connecting what was happening to Denji's food issues. He truly needs to ask about that, because the kid was basically skin and bones when they met, and used to freak out over orange peels- or worse- being discarded when he first moved in, and is apparently irrationally afraid of throwing up if he's recently eaten. 

“It ain't a big deal,” Denji continues. “I can-” 

Aki kisses him to shut him up, pushing him to lie on his back and then moving down his body, lifting his shirt to press another kiss to his flat stomach while undoing his pants. “You don't have to gag yourself to give head.” 

“I wasn't… Now I'm just gonna owe you even more.” 

“That's not how sexual stuff works. You never owe someone shit like this,” Aki says, aware that he needs to explain the concept of consent despite it being something he usually prefers not to think about, “and you don't do anything with anyone unless you both want to. Got it?” 

“Um, yeah.” 

“Good. Now pay attention, so you'll know how to suck someone off without puking.” 

Aki hasn't given many blowjobs- enough to feel like he at least knows what he's doing- but he learned from example with Himeno, and maybe Denji can do the same. If not- well, that's of little importance. Aki doesn't have any plans of asking him for a repeat attempt. 

Taking Denji’s cock into his mouth, he focuses mostly on the head, alternating between suction and teasing his tongue against the slit and down the shaft. Every so often, he sucks all the way down to the base just because Denji whimpers and moans even louder whenever Aki switches up what he's doing. With the hand that isn't pressing down on Denji's hip to keep him some semblance of still, Aki strokes his own dick, very nearly coming on the spot as the grip tangled in his hair suddenly gives a sharp tug that has him shuddering and slowing his pace. 

Denji still ends up finishing first, gasping out, “Fuck, fuck, shit,” as cum spills salty and bitter into Aki's mouth. Aki barely gets time to swallow and pull back before he comes into his fist. He isn't at all shocked when Denji sits up, grabbing his hand in order to lick cum off his first knuckle before shoving his wrist away. 

“You get so weird when I do that,” Denji says as he tucks his dick into his boxers. ‘Weird’ would not be the word Aki would choose, but he only nods. "I guess you, like... changed your mind about how we can't do stuff?"

"Seems so." Aki is about to stand and go clean up when Denji nearly knocks him over in an overzealous attempt to slot their mouths together. As far as kissing goes, there's some amount of improvement from the first time- less going back and forth between hesitation and too much tongue- but Aki hardly notices. He's stuck on the fact that he was kissed first; on the fact that he's tasting himself, and also Denji, and underneath that, the sweetness of juice and sharpness of alcohol. 

No smoke. The last time he tasted smoke while kissing someone, he was with… Aki pulls away, catching the small, crooked grin on Denji's face as he stands. “I'll be right back.” 

In the bathroom, he washes off in the sink, avoiding his reflection because he doesn't want to see his face. When he returns, Denji is drinking shochu straight out of the bottle, so Aki takes it away and goes to stash it in a different kitchen cupboard than usual. 

“Dude, you got any gum?” Denji asks, slurring his words, and Aki groans internally, sitting back down to supervise him.

“You don't get gum at night, or as a reward for drinking.” 

“S’your fault. If your alcohol tasted better...” 

“Alcohol is alcohol,” Aki says. “You're only trying to get drunk anyway, so quality would be wasted on you.”

There's something that's been bothering him, more so now it's had time to fully work its way through the liquor smog clouding his mind. Something that has him missing the next thing out of Denji's mouth because he's too busy recalling different words- that Denji did things with other guys ‘a while ago’; that he'd performed oral sex on a man ‘a long time ago.’ 

Denji is sixteen. Given the way he thinks, the first statement is easy to look over on its own, as he could've been referring to anything as recent as a couple months prior, before they met. Adding in the second, however… 

“Earlier, you said you sucked a guy off a long time ago.” Aki watches Denji’s face carefully, looking for any signs of distress, but he only appears drunk and vaguely disinterested in what Aki just said. “How old were you?”

“How'd I know? I wasn't keeping track. Not like, super young,” Denji says, yawning and rubbing his eyes. 

Good, Aki thinks, that's good. “They… They didn't force you to do it, right?” 

Denji scrunches up his face. “Hmm, nah.” 

“You just didn't like it?”

“Hell no. It made me puke. Didn't I… I thought I said that.”

“Ah.” So that's what it is. It makes more than enough sense why, after an experience like that, Denji would've chosen to not act on any interest in the same sex he might have had. 

For a moment, neither of them speak. Denji lays his head down on the table and Aki is about to make him go to his room to sleep when his eyes open again.

“What's it mean if I cried in a movie and not when people died?” Denji slurs, his voice so soft that it takes Aki a second to make sense of the words, and when he does, it takes a few more for him to come up with an answer. He knows that Denji isn't completely lacking in ability to care about people; he realized that hearing him cover for Power- and then again, seeing his face after Aki took a knife for him. There's just something lacking- some foundation level of empathy that one usually develops in childhood. 

“I think it means you didn't have an emotional connection with the person who died, whereas movies that make you cry are intentionally sad,” Aki says. “They purposefully create a connection between the audience and a character so that you feel something when bad things happen to them.”

“I guess that… Huh, ok. D’you think heartless people can cry in movies?”

“I don't know.” Where this is coming from, Aki doesn't know, and he's somewhat surprised that it's something that Denji, of all people, is thinking about. He's never seemed to be one for introspection. “You know you're not heartless, right?”

“Mmhmm. ‘Cause Makima-san said so,” Denji replies, sounding half asleep, and Aki decides that it's time to get him to bed. They have work tomorrow, and staying up so late and drinking will only be made worse by not getting proper rest. 

Fetching himself a glass of water, Aki brings one for Denji as well, waiting until he finishes it before grabbing his wrists to haul him up off the floor. Denji leans heavily against him, head lolling forward, and Aki steadies him with an arm around his waist for the walk down the hall, letting go only when they're close enough to him to collapse onto his bed. 

“Cat's in my bed again,” Denji mumbles. He's immediately affirmed by a meow. “Don't tell Power. She'll be pissed as fuck.” 

“I won't,” Aki says, turning towards the door before he can do something ridiculous and ask if Denji wants to sleep in his room instead. He doesn't even know why that thought entered his head, so he chalks it up to the alcohol and his own childish comfort-seeking inclinations that he's spent so long keeping in careful check that he'd nearly forgotten about them. He has no right to look for comfort now, after he spurned Himeno's feelings while she was alive, but he’s aware that's a part of it too. Himeno was someone he found comfort in, despite all of her chaos, and he doesn't just get to replace her with Denji now that she's gone. 

That wouldn't be fair to Denji- who might just go along, with the way he likes to soak up affection even when he doesn't understand why he's receiving it- and it wouldn't be fair to Himeno's memory. As for Aki… He just needs to go to bed too. 

“Goodnight,” he adds, but there's no reply because Denji is already asleep. 

/

Himeno has a grave marker but no grave. Aki visits it just to pay his respects, and also because this is the place where he met her. She'd looked so sad that day, something he didn't see much of after that due to the fact that she was usually the one trying to cheer him up, but it probably also had something to do with going three years without having a partner die. He wonders if, had she known how things would end, she'd have left Public Safety on her own. 

Doubtful, he tells himself. Himeno may have exalted finding pleasure in living to the same extent that Aki finds purpose in the idea of dying if it means fulfilling his goals, but they were both equally obstinate. Unless he told her directly that he didn't want to work with or see her anymore, she wouldn't have left his side of her own free will, and Aki would have had to lie in order to say those things. 

After minutes bleed into a half hour, he leaves, no longer sure why he's here when Himeno isn't. 

When he gets home, Denji jumps up from where he's sitting in front of the television, a huge smile on his face as he announces that he met a girl.