[Today he's being temporarily reassigned. It's not a reflection of poor job performance (quite the contrary), though he finds himself anxious over the decision. Unit 4 needs more manpower for their cases–they'd recently lost an enforcer in the field. Gino knows exactly how that is, to be a man down and expected to perform well. It reminds him of 7 months ago, Kagari missing (dead), Kougami on the run. His father followed suit, killed in action.
He didn't stay inspector after that. Anyone who'd seen the downfall couldn't really blame him. How was he expected to keep his hue clear when his father was murdered in front of him?
So here he is, an enforcer under the inspector he'd vetted and trained, bless her soul. Akane had managed to become the inspector he'd never been, outshining him and leaping straight to the status Kougami used to hold. But, the difference is that Akane is patient. She understands and doesn't show him pity. Instead, she waits or hands him work to keep his head clear. They work well together.
Which is why he's hesitant to help Unit 4, that kind of connection is hard to find. Akane had soothed some of his anxieties; the inspector assigned to Unit 4 is understanding, efficient, surprisingly gentle. If that's her read, he's willing to accept it. And he does, showing up to the Division 4 office early for his shift to complete the transfer.]
Inspector- I'm here as your temporary assignment. I'll be in your care.
[Not everything goes smoothly, if the events of a few months ago was any indication. And Unit 4 managed to get off lightly concerning that. That being said, it didn't mean they were safe from whatever followed. The world has changed, and it was a little more unstable than it was before.
Sen Linh Đoàn, often nicknamed "Vietnam" or "Viet", was a recent addition, but she tried her best to get to know her colleagues so that they could work together efficiently. The passing of this Enforcer affected her emotionally, and left them a larger pile of work. So you have one unit down on manpower and were under an Inspector who, whilst worked her hardest, would do with some help.
Hearing that Nobuchika Ginoza was to be temporarily assigned to her team was actually a relief, being that he is a former Inspector. Sen can learn from him, if he is willing to teach her.
He's very organised and structured too, it seems, with how early he has arrived. Sen stands up to greet him, bowing politely.]
Good morning, Nobuchika Ginoza. I am Sen Linh Đoàn, I am happy to have you, and I hope we can work well together. I apologise that I have to borrow you from your division; they must be working hard over there as well.
[Gino follows formalities to a "t", meaning: he dips his head in a partial bow, tone and expression nothing but respectful. Sen Linh has a professional reputation of sorts (all good; he'd seen from a glimpse of her file) and he wants to uphold that while ensuring he doesn't shame Unit 3.]
No need to apologize– Inspector Tsunemori said she was glad we could help your team out. They'll be working hard, but your Unit needs it more.
[It's not untrue. Unit 4 is already smaller and the loss cuts deep.]
Where would you like me to start?
[Because work is work and that's important to him. It keeps his hands (and mind) busy. Focused.]
[She brightens up, at least as much as she could; Ginoza is professional and polite as she was told. She'll have to thank Akane later. For Akane to lend them their most experienced is truly generous.]
I am very thankful for such help. [She comes round to properly stand by him.] Perhaps after this, our two units can come together. [Either for work, or for a get-together, either one is fine.] We are definitely in your debt.
But ah, before you start, let me show you to your desk. I made sure to keep it tidy.
[Wait did she clean his temporary desk?! She sure did; in a way, he is a guest.]
They fall together like displaced sheets of paper.
The binding that held them together is gone, left a path of destruction like a twisting wind, left them to fall and flutter to the ground, all out of order. Shuffle them long enough, and they’ll show a semblance of correctness, of organization. Except no one’s taken the time to do so, probably never will.
Surprisingly (or not so), she takes the first steps. Her authority weighs her down, just on the edges of her shoulders, and he recognizes the posture. Knows very well the look in her eyes– a tired but sad acceptance of facts. He’s carried that pressure before, is as familiar with it as he is his own limbs. So when she reaches out to him one night, takes his hand in hers (timidly, unsurely, afraid) he can’t help but understand. She silently weeps, face tucked into his shoulder, and he lets her. No words of comfort because there are none that can soothe how much it stings.
An hour passes before they disentangle, a wordless understanding communicated in the small nuances of expression. She leaves him be, silently thanking him and apologizing all in one. The door shuts and he stares at the ceiling for hours afterwards– he’s cried his share over years.
It happens again, a week later. And then again, a few days after that. Before they know it, the outbursts become routine.
She takes up burning cigarettes (his brand, he knows without asking, the smell is mapped in on his mind). The sticks sit upwards on the edge of a plain ashtray; he thinks they resemble the incense placed by gravestones. Prudently, he doesn’t mention it, she has enough to think of as it is. Idly, he wonders if he should remind her of second hand smoke but dismisses it. They’re both so used to the scent by now that he almost never notices when the sticks are burning low to the filters.
Sometimes, that’s all they do– watch the cigarettes burn down to the orange tinged paper, shoulders touching, hands closed over each other’s. Every so often, she’ll rest her cheek on his shoulder (that becomes more frequent, and eventually, she’ll use his lap as a pillow). Neither of them talk about him by name. Most of time, not at all.
Just once, he kisses her on the forehead. It’s hesitant but comforting. The next few times, she kisses him on the cheek as she leaves. That turns into a greeting and a goodbye soon after. And that tumbles into them holding each other for grounding, kisses lonely and borderline desperate. Those hours they’d spent watching their own personal memorial incense burn away becomes less and less. Cigarettes still burn habitually, but they’re a background piece, no longer a completely centered fixture.
They both still miss him fiercely, but he knows (and she’s learned) that clinging onto someone who’s disappeared does neither of them good.
Now, they curl against each other, her back against his chest, legs fitted like puzzle pieces that are slightly off. He’s looped an arm around her waist, loose limbed and unrestrictive. She’s awake (they both are), eyes downcast in the silence. It’s comfortable, neither of them need to fill the quiet, they know each other too well for that. Her head tilts up and a small hand matches up with his mechanical one, fingers splayed as far as they can go. His own curl in between hers and soon she follows suit, hands clasped together as an assurance neither is going anywhere.
“Do you miss them?” Her voice is low, filled with sleep and emotion. He doesn’t have to consider his answer, because he’s thought about it every day for a year. It isn’t how he wants to answer, he thought he was done with holding onto people. Thought he’d passed that point in his life where he’d recognized it as futile–
[Because I can?! Drops it in here cos I dunno where else ANYWAY--
There's word around that it's Ginoza's birthday coming up soon. There's been a lot of buzz going around the offices whenever Ginoza wasn't looking (or they think he wasn't looking) of which they think it might be a fun (but more so hilarious) idea to throw him a party.
But that got Sen thinking. Throwing a party for him was something that all their colleagues had a part in. Sure, she was going to be involved (someone had to do the cooking and it sure wasn't going to be Akane) and homecooked meals could be considered personal, if it wasn't for the fact that dozens of other people were also going to eat it too. Giving him a gift would also be nice, if not for the fact that it seemed a bit too formal giving it to him during the party. That would be more like an obligation, no?
No, she had to go one better than this. She had to be creative, just to show him her intentions that he was important to her (n-not that it was anything special, what are you talking about).
Which was why she broke into his quarters while he was out on his routine checks, because she can (thank you, Inspector level access keys) and left a few things: 1. A note apologising for the break-in, and asking for his forgiveness. 2. A birthday card expressing her well wishes and for him to have good luck for the following year. And some of it in Vietnamese. 3. A chew toy for Dime with was shaped like a bone, as well as a nice doggy scarf. 4. A small herbgarden on his dining table. There's a ribbon on it (which he can get rid of), and she decorated the pots herself. It spells out his name.
Sen wasn't sure when he was going to discover this, but she sure hoped he won't accidentally destroy it. Either way, that was a job well done. Well done, Sen. Now go back to your inspector duties, goddamn.]
[Jade had made no secret of his intentions throughout the night.
...Well, that isn't entirely true. He's never overt about it; it's always in the little things: a seemingly-accidental touch, an odd turn of phrase here and there, a low-burning intensity in his eyes. Ginoza might not be the best company, but he's fun, interesting to needle at and amusing to watch. That's enough for his purposes.
It ends in the two of them on his bed, still mostly clothed. He has a leg casually wrapped around him, fingers tangling in his dark hair, lazily tilting his head from side to side as he considers where to begin. The neck, he decides, leaning in to press a kiss against his pulse point.
He's always found the heart rate to be quite fascinating - although, really, he's interested in all aspects of the body - for something so simple, it's a surprisingly useful gauge of a person's mental state. Ginoza's heartbeat is faster than usual. Jade hides a smile against the curve of his neck, catching the warm skin between his teeth just to see how he'll react.]
Gino isn't very good at reading signals, especially when they're more subtle. But, having been here for a little while, he's at least made a small improvement in differentiating "friendly" from "flirty". So as Jade's made his less obvious passes, Ginoza has started catching on faster than he would've when he'd first gotten here. At first, he'd been startled, since the man is usually so private, sharp tongue full of biting witticisms instead of veiled come ons. Something had changed tonight, though, and he felt a bit cornered.
That could also be because he's loosened his tie, top buttons on his shirt undone, hair mussed from where Jade's run his long fingers through it. The other man is looking at him like he's prey, red eyes narrowed and calculating. He can't help the reaction he has to the stare, pulse fluttering at a faster tempo than normal. When Jade presses a kiss to his neck, he nearly jumps out of his skin, and he's certain the other man can feel his heartbeat jump. Another thrill goes through him at the feel of teeth against the pulse point, and he makes a soft noise of assent, trying to swallow down the nervousness he's feeling.
Hesitantly, he reaches a hand up to Jade's shoulder, fingers brushing the hair back and away from his face. They settle on the back of his neck, an encouragement and an exploration all at once. ]
[Ginoza's pulse beats so strongly under him, Jade thinks he would be able to feel it even if he moves away. And he does, when he abandons the area in favour of kissing a slow line downwards, to the hollow of his throat. Like this, he's keenly aware of every little hitch of breath, the bob of Ginoza's throat when he swallows, the frantic beat of his heart. It's a constant hum of warmth and vitality and life.
Jade's lips curl into another smile, this time unhidden by the long fall of his hair. Without looking down, he undoes Ginoza's tie with one hand, practised fingers making short work of the silky fabric before carefully pushing the open collar of his shirt aside, exposing more skin. The fingers still tangled in his feathery hair suddenly tighten, pulling, tipping Ginoza's head back to bare his neck completely.
Earlier, he thought he'd have Ginoza's shirt off by now, but the man is simply too wound up. Better to go slowly - a steady escalation, interspersed with sudden moevments to keep him on the edge. The pursuit is half (or more) of the fun.]
[ If there's one thing he's learned about Jade, it's that he's deliberate. He thinks things through, no action seeming to be a spur of the moment decision. It's this, he thinks, that drives the slow line of kisses down his neck that end with a smile pressed against his skin. Gino finds his tie is being expertly undone, the silk hanging loosely round his neck. In contrast, Jade's fingers tighten in his hair, tugging his head back, neck bared.
Part of him wants to resist, but the slight sting from where Jade's fingers are pulling feels nicer than he wants to admit. If the other man wanted him on edge—he was doing a swell job of it. Not one to sit idle for long, he moves his hands (a bit blindly), both of them settling against Jade's chest. There's a hesitation until he unhooks the collar of the shirt, and then he's undoing more, each movement exposing more skin. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers softly tracing the line of the brunette's throat. ]
Theirs is an old house. An old bloodline. Not overly wealthy, but hard worked for. His father is one of an upstanding reputation– he's honest where the truth is becoming less and less. They live modestly, because neither of his parents have extravagance in their veins. Instead, they have the values of moderation, of control over oneself. His mother's jewels are simple and well crafted; they aren't gaudy or showy. Her beauty is something beneath the skin, he thinks, anyway. As for his father, he's straight backed, happy, proud. It shows in the lines on his face, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
But like with all good things, they don't always stay. Gino isn't young when his father's arrested for conspiracy. For accessory to treason, for things he couldn't ever imagine Tomomi committing. All the years of perfect lineage is undone, unraveling like the tapestry the names of his ancestors are embroidered onto. He understood what it meant for him, for his mother, for their family. His father is exiled, excommunicated, a mercy from the King he'd been on good terms with. His mother is left to run the estate; he's still too young.
Even if he were old enough, he's inheriting a ruined name.
Unable to provide personal tutelage with her attentions now elsewhere, his mother sends him to a neighboring family. A friend, of sorts. Nobuchika's played with their son, Shinya, before. However, with limited funds, he won't be getting his schooling paid for without some kind of work. Instead, he's to take the role of a servant of sorts. Temporarily, until he's old enough to take the estate under his name and can be groomed to live up to his title. At first, he resents it. It's awkward, because he and Shinya are on technical uneven footing.
Years pass though, and it takes the sting away. He resents less and less, and somewhere along the way, he gets used to it. Shinya is smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. Gino doesn't feel like he's being talked down to, regardless of their switch in station. When all this is said and done, he'll count him as a true friend again.
Until then, though, he's got work to do.
Which is why he's standing at the foot of the bed, attempting to wake Shinya up without giving into dumping a bucket of water on his head. ]
I've known you this long and I still wonder how it is you can sleep in such an ungainly fashion.
[Lately, his dreams have been filled with white and gold, the flash of a razor blade, the soft flutter of turning pages. Steiner, he thinks vaguely, but the dream slips from his grasp like so much smoke.
Smoke and mirrors. That's what his life comes down to these days. For a few moments, Shinya remains sprawled out inelegantly, an arm thrown over his still-closed eyes.
Reality, though, can't be denied. Shinya knows the exact moment Gino will demand his attention again, can almost feel the words gathering in the air, and deliberately moves just before they can be uttered. The muscles of his bare chest shift as he pulls himself into a seating position, hands resting casually against the bed as he tips his head back to look up at Gino.]
Good morning to you too.
[Then he yawns and stretches, in a manner more befitting a hunting dog than any heir to a noble house.]
[ There's a brief moment where Shinya is quiet. Judging from how there isn't a response, Ginoza figures him to still be asleep. In some way, it's endearing—the other man has an arm slung over his face, covering his eyes. The blankets are a tangled mess, but he can still make out the peek of a calf and Shinya's upper torso. He tries not to let his gaze linger, so he takes a soft breath, ready to prompt the other to get up.
Before any words can come out, though, Kou is sitting up, shoulders rolling with the motion. It's almost annoying, because he's long suspected that the other man times him, knows exactly when he's about to say something. And then he derails him with his responses. Frowning, Gino goes towards a nearby side table and picks up the tray there. He'd learned long ago to never approach Shinya with a full tray when he's still asleep. It quickly becomes a mess. ]
Here. I brought up a light breakfast as well; your father says you have a sparring session scheduled soon.
[ With that, he holds the tray steady, going closer to the side of Shinya's bed. ]
[It had been strange, at first, to be served by someone who should be an equal. Now, he can't imagine not waking up to Gino's face. Somehow, the man had become a fixture in his life - an impermanent one, he reminds himself. Another year or two and they'll part ways, he to some lofty administrative post and a good marriage while Gino returns to his ruined name and an uncertain future.
The thought is enough to make Shinya go straight for the coffee. The first sip clears away the last of the lingering cobwebs that cling to his consciousness, and he exhales slowly, disturbing the wisps of steam that drift from the surface of the coffee.]
Thanks, Gino. [The words are almost an automatic reflex, despite (or rather, because of) Lord Kougami's attempts to train him out of it - one doesn't thank their servants. Shinya disagrees.
Besides, he doesn't think of Gino as a servant.
Still sipping at his coffee, he peers up at Gino from under his bangs, looking as stoic as always. In reality, he's about to rib at Gino, but Gino's always been bad at picking up that sort of thing.]
As with most of their cases, because for some reason, he always ends up dealing with people who dig their heels in. Kougami had the bit in his teeth over Makishima, and that stubborn streak seems to have rubbed off on Akane. Not that he didn't think she had it in her, honestly. But his ex...friend (???) certainly had been an influence before he left. It was the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about through the entire case; he'd been worried over Tsunemori's hue. Afraid of watching it climb and darken just like Kougami's had before.
Of losing someone else he cared about.
That isn't what happened, naturally. Akane has always been sure of herself in that regard. Her hue is as clear as ever, even with all the upheaval (and mourning). It's been about two weeks since the end of the case and they're still cleaning up. There are a million reports and details and transfer papers to write up. They've taken on a new Enforcer (Ginoza is glad, he likes him) and the Bureau is at work trying to fill the spots that opened up in the other units. All in all, Kamui had left large holes with his work. Gino doesn't know if that's totally what he'd been aiming for, since a lot of those people had nothing to do with the overall scheme (Aoyanagi had gotten caught in the crossfire– he still misses her). What's done is done, though.
Because at the end of the day, he has this. This being his apartment, with Dime asleep in his crate and Akane leaning on his shoulder, dozing. They've both had a long day, as has been the case for a while now. It feels nice to just relax. ]
[ No rest for the weary, or so they say. It's become her mantra over these long series of days. Truthfully, they'd started to blend together at the edges. Where one report began and another cup of coffee ended is nearly impossible to distinguish. All carry the same stale memory of the Bureau's halogen lights overhead, and the kind of accomplishment Akane has come to associate with loneliness. A victory at a price was par for the course — lives were lost because of her, and lives were also saved. Protected beneath the veil of normalcy Sibyl so selflessly provides. Only Akane has lifted that barrier and survived to tell about it. Married to the job, and still a poor bride. Togane Sakuya and Kamui Kirito are both gone, and she's left to dissolve their secrets into paperwork.
To fit violent bloodstains neatly behind red tape. Or in the case of her grandmother, to quietly take the calls from her family away from the department. That way, no one has to see her face when they tell her it's better for her to not help oversee it. She's busy, after all, and they understand...
As soon as she's neatly returned a stack of bound and organized files to the table in front of her, she finds her weight resting against Ginoza's shoulder. Exhaustion has a peculiar kind of warmth. A creeping kind, almost. Tangible when it moves within her. When Gino takes a nick at her, a smile curves its way into his arm. It's as fond as it is knowing. Perhaps she's just being selfish by spending so much time here lately. Not just in his quarters, but by his side. ]
Will that be a problem?
[ Akane rarely asks questions she won't get an answer to. And luckily, Ginoza is fond of answers she doesn't precisely ask for. His constant concern over her Hue to balance her rarely thinking about it is one such example. This is another. How it feels right, regardless. Idly, her tired hands smooth at the edges of his sleeve. ]
I won't impose so much when I find the time to move.
[ Divorced from what kept her interest in it, her apartment has simply become another empty crime scene. ]
[ If it's a problem, then it's one he's willing to live with. He can't say she makes unpleasant company, because he really does enjoy having her here. They've become even closer than where they'd been over a year ago. Hilariously enough, it'd taken him becoming an Enforcer to make it happen. ]
No, not at all.
[ His response is quiet, but he means every word. Her idle gestures give him a small feeling of warmth, and he uses his free hand to cover her fingers. ]
You're never an imposition, Tsunemori.
[ That came out bolder than he was usually, but he's not going to take the words back. For one, it keeps her out of her apartment– still one he considered a crime scene, regardless of the fact that they're cleaning up after that case. And well, back to his original point; he likes Akane. A lot. She's everything he wasn't, something he should rightfully feel frustration over. Except he's seen what she's gone through, the sacrifices she's made in order to stand strong. To stick by what was in her core. Ginoza knows he can't be like her, can't deal with things in her way (with a seemingly easy grace). So he'll be a support instead, happily sticking to her side, whether that means he's overshadowed or not. ]
[ Akane knows he still prefers to think of it as a grim twist of fate. Irony at its purest. Now, after everything, she has heart enough to be amused. In her eyes, it's always been straightforward. Shepherd 1 doesn't need Hound 1 at her beck and call. Inspector Tsunemori Akane needs Enforcer Ginoza Nobuchika at her right hand to help her protect others as best she can. It takes tragedy to appreciate life, loss to appreciate those who stay. As touch and go as it was, Akane would have spent every day with her hand to that plastic cell door to prove it. Her hand, and not her badge.
She happily chalks it up to being workaholics that this wasn't the case. That, and two months of faith that was anything but blind. There is no shadow to stand in as long as he walks beside her, after all.
That's why Akane never wonders at the merit of blood being thicker than water, or interchangeable with steel. Ginoza's gloved hand settles over hers, and she cradles it gently, tracing her fingertips over the unyielding outline. There's a subtle familiarity to her touch, a fondness in the way her thumb glides over the material guarding his knuckles. ]
Is that to keep me from going back to my apartment again, I wonder?
[ Gino is a worrier on the best of days. On the job, she tries to keep herself from taking advantage of it. Here, it's a little different. Her brows arch as she glances up at him. ]
[ Sleep, Kogami reflects, is one of the greatest necessary evils there are. It's an essentiality that puts all men on their backs, and Kogami has always been predisposed to be on it as little as possible. As a practical reflection of that philosophy, a couch has always sufficed for Kogami's needs -- it's efficient, multi-purpose, and of late, quite the pain in Gino's ass.
The problem with a couch is that it's too small for two full grown men -- it's barely even enough for Kogami, who has to sleep with his legs dangling off the side and has long made his peace with it.
Gino has made peace with precisely nothing in Kogami's apartment. While the man has been exceptionally tolerant with a lot of Kogami's shit, the thirtieth time of sprawling on a blanket on the floor after sex may have taken its toll, the idea of a bed surfaces with all the alacrity of a partner too damn tired of grinding his bones against the cold hard floor. Blankets can only insulate so much, and Kogami should consider a proper bed because the whole randy teenager blanket sex aesthetic is sexy once in awhile, but not when it becomes a staple in their (lovemaking) ...this. Whatever this is.
Kogami holds out for exactly sixteen and a half days.
Day sixteen and a half, Kogami contemplates the new presence in his room critically. It takes up too much space, this bed, and it's barebones, Kogami not actually inclined to get sheets and covers and other accoutrements for it quite yet. It's an invasion of his sanctum sanctorum, a glaring anomaly in the otherwise strictly utilitarian nature of his study room. Day fourteen and fifteen had been Kogami making space for it, trying not to think about what it means in the grand scheme of romantic development, and the half of day sixteen had been Kogami hard at work on assembling the bed frame himself, finally setting the mattress atop of it. If he's going to be here for the long haul to take Sibyl down together with Akane and Gino, might as well make the best of it.
It's a shirtless, sweaty Kogami (because moving a queen-sized mattress through the building and setting up a sturdy bed frame is a bitch) in the doorway of his room that greets Gino when he turns up.
[ Sleep is a necessary evil. Or, rather, necessary. Some days he felt more the former than the latter. But whatever the case, it was something that should be done on a proper surface. Like a bed. Gino was all about things being in the proper place and done in the correct way. There were some things he let bypass this, like the way that Kogami did his laundry (haphazard, frankly).
However, he was of the opinion that while they didn't always get a lot of sleep, it was best to get the most out of the hours they could get shut eye. Sleeping on a couch or on the floor was not conducive to a good night's rest, in his opinion. So he'd spent the last two weeks annoying Kogami enough to concede that a bed was a thing that was necessary in their now joined lives.
They'd picked it out, after probably way too much deliberation and arguing. And today, Kogami had spent most of his free time getting everything all moved in and constructed. Gino had taken it upon himself to fill in the blanks– which is to say, get blankets, sheets, pillows. The assortment. Akane had accompanied him, happily helping pick out colors and approving fabrics. All in all, he felt pretty happy.
When he lets himself into the apartment, Kogami looks a little harried, sweat glistening on his brow and along his neck. ]
Of course. Tsunemori gives you in particular her congratulations on "moving up in the world". [ There's clearly quotes there. His hands are too full to make them happen otherwise. Gino sets the shopping bags down near the end of the couch, crouching to rustle through one for a sheet set. Once found, he slips past Kogami into the room, a small smile lighting up his face. ]
This is nice. [ It's more of a murmur before he sets about making the bed, letting Kogami just look on. He'd done the really hard parts, after all. ]
[ Of course Gino would present himself with all the necessary items, Kogami notes, consciously not getting in the other man's way as he fishes out a bottle of water from the fridge in the kitchenette, taking a well-deserved swig. There is a particular kind of charm in watching Gino set up the rest of their bed, taking over so seamlessly that it's a reminder that this is theirs, not just Kogami's own, no matter how much grief Gino gives him over it.
Gino's presence in this apartment, the bed too big for Kogami alone, brings to mind a truth: the former is going to be a more frequent visitor to his apartment, a less temporary fixture, and he's not entirely sure what to feel about it. A curious sense of acceptance, he supposes -- after all, they're both consenting adults, and even before this whole thing came about they had been best friends. Even so, there is a surreal quality to this domesticity that Kogami cannot help but contemplate, the fact that it's happening to him when he's long assumed that such things will forever be out of reach. ]
I'm surprised, you're actually complimenting the setup. [ Kogami drawls as he leans against the doorway, fishing about for a cigarette to light up. There's a crooked smile that tugs at his mouth, a warmth to the upturn reserved only for Gino, and in response to Tsunemori's dry wit. Domesticity suits Gino, he muses, and it's not difficult to imagine pinning him down to the pillows, breaking in the bed, waking up to having him beside him, all warmth and life and indulging in something as mundane as sleep. ]
[ Gino smoothes the free sheet over the bed before he starts slipping the pillowcases on. It's mundane, making the bed, but it fills him with a kind of content happiness he hasn't had in a long time. Just the small things of home life. It makes him think of his family, before everything fell apart. Of sunlight filtering into his bedroom in the morning, Masaoka sitting on the edge of his bed and gently waking him for breakfast, big hand ruffling through his hair. He thinks of his mother, how she'd tuck him in tightly, sheets pulled all the way up to his chin before she gently pinched his nose and kissed him goodnight.
They're bittersweet memories, looking back. But he holds them close all the same.
And this, between he and Kogami, it's a step in that direction. A permanence, signified in a piece of furniture.
There's a ruffling sound as he unfurls the blanket, snapping his wrists to make sure it laid without as many creases. ]
Why wouldn't I? It really does look nice. [ He brushes out the wrinkle on the corner before stepping back to admire the work. Nothing fancy– he'll spruce it up over time– but it's theirs. ]
I'll have more of a reason to stay, if that's what you're asking. [ Gino slides his glance to Kogami, smile light. ]
[He doesn't remember a lot, honestly. There are flashes of varying length and detail: killing the thug that ambushed him in the underground with a nailgun. The voice that came over the two-way radio and offered to let him join Makishima in taking Sybil down. Finding that voice before he finished cracking the last door to the core of the Sybil System. The vicious struggle that ensued. Bleeding out on the floor and no way to call for help. A dominator and a spray of viscera in the corner of fading vision.
Kagari Shuusei regains consciousness in a world like and unlike the one he left. He's been drifting in and out for two weeks, they tell him. The terrorist responsible for the escalating riots is dead. They're curiously silent about Makishima, but he hears the whispers in the halls. Kogami's gone, fled the country, and the only thing he can think of to explain that is that Makishima got the end he so richly deserved. The vicious part of Kagari hopes the fucker suffered.
What's less clear is what happened to the man in the underground; he's sure he saw a dominator down there in that anechoic chamber somehow, but he's told the man was lying dead beside him when he was found. For his efforts in restoring peace to the area, he's told, he's getting an increase in his monthly allowance--all purchases pending approval of an Inspector, of course. It seems overly convenient, but he's not going to complain about having extra money for video games and candy and fresh vegetables to cook.
There sounds like there's one less Inspector in town to do that approving, though. Kagari's not so sure how he feels about that. Kogami was once an inspector, sure, but Kagari had only met him after his demotion, and his preconceptions of the man were proved wrong in that first fight. Gino, on the other hand ... well, Kagari knew how he felt about latent criminals. Irony sure was a bitch, wasn't it.
...Speak of the devil, huh? Kagari pushes himself up on the bed at the appearance of his former superior. They both look different than they last saw each other; Ginoza without his glasses and Kagari without hair gel, brunette roots having grown out from behind the red-orange.
He smirks, a little too sharp. On some level, he's grateful that Gino came to see him. But pettiness is an easy urge to succumb to, and what little filter he might usually have is out the window with the pain medication percolating in his system.]
Well, well, well, look who it is. How's the hunting dog life treating you, Gino-san?
[ They'd said– the doctors, that is, as he hears through Akane later– that the memory would be fuzzy. Details might be missing, due to the blood loss and shock. In some ways, he thinks it's probably a blessing, not to remember the chaos that happened as they'd chased Makishima down through his maze of plans.
Gino almost wishes he could wipe his own memory clean. Start over.
But he doesn't deserve it, so he pushes his way through the days. Stabilizes his coefficient enough to be hired back on as a hunting dog. How fitting. Ironic– and it should be bitter, but he can't quite make himself feel that bad about it. There's a weight off his shoulders. Tsunemori points and he shoots, he runs, he does whatever her small hands and voice tell him to.
He's grateful she made it through to the end.
He's doubly grateful that they'd lost so little of the team. Kogami was gone, sure, but he feels like that was an inevitability. Masaoka; he didn't want to think about that too hard just yet. Kagari, though, he was young, had so much ahead of him. So he goes to check in, signs his name neatly on the visitor's sheet where the nurse sits. Gino has his suit on, he's cut his hair and lost the glasses. When he looks at Kagari, he feels like a completely different person and yet, someone who has been seen through all the same. ]
I'm still whole. [ Not exactly, with the arm and all. ] How do you feel?
[It's odd, almost, to see a Ginoza Nobuchika who responds nearly in defeat to that obvious baiting. There isn't any of the flustering, the prickliness, the expected indignation. Kagari doesn't know everything that's happened since they parted ways at Nona Tower, but it's obvious whatever it was, it's affected his former superior deeply. There's a new weariness in the other man that reminds him a little of Kou-chan in these last couple years that he's known him, and it smooths over that initial vicious impulse.]
Like someone backed one of those police vans over me.
[Still blunt, though. He flops back down on the pillow, then, not really sure how to approach this. It's weird. Ginoza was the one who first recruited him, throwing down the metaphorical rope by which he could finally escape from his own personal hell. But there's always been a sharp division between them; Kagari was the latent criminal, the one who was flawed, damaged, dangerous. The one who didn't belong in society, and Gino was the one meant to keep him on a leash. Kagari has never hated him, no more than he's hated society at large, but being equals with Ginoza Nobuchika is oddly uncomfortable, when their relationship was originally premised on himself being an inferior class of human being.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Amy - viet/gino
He didn't stay inspector after that. Anyone who'd seen the downfall couldn't really blame him. How was he expected to keep his hue clear when his father was murdered in front of him?
So here he is, an enforcer under the inspector he'd vetted and trained, bless her soul. Akane had managed to become the inspector he'd never been, outshining him and leaping straight to the status Kougami used to hold. But, the difference is that Akane is patient. She understands and doesn't show him pity. Instead, she waits or hands him work to keep his head clear. They work well together.
Which is why he's hesitant to help Unit 4, that kind of connection is hard to find. Akane had soothed some of his anxieties; the inspector assigned to Unit 4 is understanding, efficient, surprisingly gentle. If that's her read, he's willing to accept it. And he does, showing up to the Division 4 office early for his shift to complete the transfer.]
Inspector- I'm here as your temporary assignment. I'll be in your care.
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Sen Linh Đoàn, often nicknamed "Vietnam" or "Viet", was a recent addition, but she tried her best to get to know her colleagues so that they could work together efficiently. The passing of this Enforcer affected her emotionally, and left them a larger pile of work. So you have one unit down on manpower and were under an Inspector who, whilst worked her hardest, would do with some help.
Hearing that Nobuchika Ginoza was to be temporarily assigned to her team was actually a relief, being that he is a former Inspector. Sen can learn from him, if he is willing to teach her.
He's very organised and structured too, it seems, with how early he has arrived. Sen stands up to greet him, bowing politely.]
Good morning, Nobuchika Ginoza. I am Sen Linh Đoàn, I am happy to have you, and I hope we can work well together. I apologise that I have to borrow you from your division; they must be working hard over there as well.
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[Gino follows formalities to a "t", meaning: he dips his head in a partial bow, tone and expression nothing but respectful. Sen Linh has a professional reputation of sorts (all good; he'd seen from a glimpse of her file) and he wants to uphold that while ensuring he doesn't shame Unit 3.]
No need to apologize– Inspector Tsunemori said she was glad we could help your team out. They'll be working hard, but your Unit needs it more.
[It's not untrue. Unit 4 is already smaller and the loss cuts deep.]
Where would you like me to start?
[Because work is work and that's important to him. It keeps his hands (and mind) busy. Focused.]
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I am very thankful for such help. [She comes round to properly stand by him.] Perhaps after this, our two units can come together. [Either for work, or for a get-together, either one is fine.] We are definitely in your debt.
But ah, before you start, let me show you to your desk. I made sure to keep it tidy.
[Wait did she clean his temporary desk?! She sure did; in a way, he is a guest.]
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(frozen comment) [you] were always faster than [me]
The binding that held them together is gone, left a path of destruction like a twisting wind, left them to fall and flutter to the ground, all out of order. Shuffle them long enough, and they’ll show a semblance of correctness, of organization. Except no one’s taken the time to do so, probably never will.
Surprisingly (or not so), she takes the first steps. Her authority weighs her down, just on the edges of her shoulders, and he recognizes the posture. Knows very well the look in her eyes– a tired but sad acceptance of facts. He’s carried that pressure before, is as familiar with it as he is his own limbs. So when she reaches out to him one night, takes his hand in hers (timidly, unsurely, afraid) he can’t help but understand. She silently weeps, face tucked into his shoulder, and he lets her. No words of comfort because there are none that can soothe how much it stings.
An hour passes before they disentangle, a wordless understanding communicated in the small nuances of expression. She leaves him be, silently thanking him and apologizing all in one. The door shuts and he stares at the ceiling for hours afterwards– he’s cried his share over years.
It happens again, a week later. And then again, a few days after that. Before they know it, the outbursts become routine.
She takes up burning cigarettes (his brand, he knows without asking, the smell is mapped in on his mind). The sticks sit upwards on the edge of a plain ashtray; he thinks they resemble the incense placed by gravestones. Prudently, he doesn’t mention it, she has enough to think of as it is. Idly, he wonders if he should remind her of second hand smoke but dismisses it. They’re both so used to the scent by now that he almost never notices when the sticks are burning low to the filters.
Sometimes, that’s all they do– watch the cigarettes burn down to the orange tinged paper, shoulders touching, hands closed over each other’s. Every so often, she’ll rest her cheek on his shoulder (that becomes more frequent, and eventually, she’ll use his lap as a pillow). Neither of them talk about him by name. Most of time, not at all.
Just once, he kisses her on the forehead. It’s hesitant but comforting. The next few times, she kisses him on the cheek as she leaves. That turns into a greeting and a goodbye soon after. And that tumbles into them holding each other for grounding, kisses lonely and borderline desperate. Those hours they’d spent watching their own personal memorial incense burn away becomes less and less. Cigarettes still burn habitually, but they’re a background piece, no longer a completely centered fixture.
They both still miss him fiercely, but he knows (and she’s learned) that clinging onto someone who’s disappeared does neither of them good.
Now, they curl against each other, her back against his chest, legs fitted like puzzle pieces that are slightly off. He’s looped an arm around her waist, loose limbed and unrestrictive. She’s awake (they both are), eyes downcast in the silence. It’s comfortable, neither of them need to fill the quiet, they know each other too well for that. Her head tilts up and a small hand matches up with his mechanical one, fingers splayed as far as they can go. His own curl in between hers and soon she follows suit, hands clasped together as an assurance neither is going anywhere.
“Do you miss them?” Her voice is low, filled with sleep and emotion. He doesn’t have to consider his answer, because he’s thought about it every day for a year. It isn’t how he wants to answer, he thought he was done with holding onto people. Thought he’d passed that point in his life where he’d recognized it as futile–
“Yes.”
–he hasn’t.
november 21st 2XXX (surprise?!)
There's word around that it's Ginoza's birthday coming up soon. There's been a lot of buzz going around the offices whenever Ginoza wasn't looking (or they think he wasn't looking) of which they think it might be a fun (but more so hilarious) idea to throw him a party.
But that got Sen thinking. Throwing a party for him was something that all their colleagues had a part in. Sure, she was going to be involved (someone had to do the cooking and it sure wasn't going to be Akane) and homecooked meals could be considered personal, if it wasn't for the fact that dozens of other people were also going to eat it too. Giving him a gift would also be nice, if not for the fact that it seemed a bit too formal giving it to him during the party. That would be more like an obligation, no?
No, she had to go one better than this. She had to be creative, just to show him her intentions that he was important to her (n-not that it was anything special, what are you talking about).
Which was why she broke into his quarters while he was out on his routine checks, because she can (thank you, Inspector level access keys) and left a few things:
1. A note apologising for the break-in, and asking for his forgiveness.
2. A birthday card expressing her well wishes and for him to have good luck for the following year. And some of it in Vietnamese.
3. A chew toy for Dime with was shaped like a bone, as well as a nice doggy scarf.
4. A small herbgarden on his dining table. There's a ribbon on it (which he can get rid of), and she decorated the pots herself. It spells out his name.
Sen wasn't sure when he was going to discover this, but she sure hoped he won't accidentally destroy it. Either way, that was a job well done. Well done, Sen. Now go back to your inspector duties, goddamn.]
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...Well, that isn't entirely true. He's never overt about it; it's always in the little things: a seemingly-accidental touch, an odd turn of phrase here and there, a low-burning intensity in his eyes. Ginoza might not be the best company, but he's fun, interesting to needle at and amusing to watch. That's enough for his purposes.
It ends in the two of them on his bed, still mostly clothed. He has a leg casually wrapped around him, fingers tangling in his dark hair, lazily tilting his head from side to side as he considers where to begin. The neck, he decides, leaning in to press a kiss against his pulse point.
He's always found the heart rate to be quite fascinating - although, really, he's interested in all aspects of the body - for something so simple, it's a surprisingly useful gauge of a person's mental state. Ginoza's heartbeat is faster than usual. Jade hides a smile against the curve of his neck, catching the warm skin between his teeth just to see how he'll react.]
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Gino isn't very good at reading signals, especially when they're more subtle. But, having been here for a little while, he's at least made a small improvement in differentiating "friendly" from "flirty". So as Jade's made his less obvious passes, Ginoza has started catching on faster than he would've when he'd first gotten here. At first, he'd been startled, since the man is usually so private, sharp tongue full of biting witticisms instead of veiled come ons. Something had changed tonight, though, and he felt a bit cornered.
That could also be because he's loosened his tie, top buttons on his shirt undone, hair mussed from where Jade's run his long fingers through it. The other man is looking at him like he's prey, red eyes narrowed and calculating. He can't help the reaction he has to the stare, pulse fluttering at a faster tempo than normal. When Jade presses a kiss to his neck, he nearly jumps out of his skin, and he's certain the other man can feel his heartbeat jump. Another thrill goes through him at the feel of teeth against the pulse point, and he makes a soft noise of assent, trying to swallow down the nervousness he's feeling.
Hesitantly, he reaches a hand up to Jade's shoulder, fingers brushing the hair back and away from his face. They settle on the back of his neck, an encouragement and an exploration all at once. ]
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Jade's lips curl into another smile, this time unhidden by the long fall of his hair. Without looking down, he undoes Ginoza's tie with one hand, practised fingers making short work of the silky fabric before carefully pushing the open collar of his shirt aside, exposing more skin. The fingers still tangled in his feathery hair suddenly tighten, pulling, tipping Ginoza's head back to bare his neck completely.
Earlier, he thought he'd have Ginoza's shirt off by now, but the man is simply too wound up. Better to go slowly - a steady escalation, interspersed with sudden moevments to keep him on the edge. The pursuit is half (or more) of the fun.]
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Part of him wants to resist, but the slight sting from where Jade's fingers are pulling feels nicer than he wants to admit. If the other man wanted him on edge—he was doing a swell job of it. Not one to sit idle for long, he moves his hands (a bit blindly), both of them settling against Jade's chest. There's a hesitation until he unhooks the collar of the shirt, and then he's undoing more, each movement exposing more skin. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers softly tracing the line of the brunette's throat. ]
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GINO... "ordeal" really
LOOK....THIS IS DIFFICULT FOR HIM
would you say it's.........hard
i wasn't going to make that joke but now here we are........
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i almost forgot this thread was meant to be smut
ah......well, jade's nerd is full on here so i can't blame you
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approx 400 years later i'm gomen
you were on the other side (like always) || kougami/gino; AU
Theirs is an old house. An old bloodline. Not overly wealthy, but hard worked for. His father is one of an upstanding reputation– he's honest where the truth is becoming less and less. They live modestly, because neither of his parents have extravagance in their veins. Instead, they have the values of moderation, of control over oneself. His mother's jewels are simple and well crafted; they aren't gaudy or showy. Her beauty is something beneath the skin, he thinks, anyway. As for his father, he's straight backed, happy, proud. It shows in the lines on his face, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
But like with all good things, they don't always stay. Gino isn't young when his father's arrested for conspiracy. For accessory to treason, for things he couldn't ever imagine Tomomi committing. All the years of perfect lineage is undone, unraveling like the tapestry the names of his ancestors are embroidered onto. He understood what it meant for him, for his mother, for their family. His father is exiled, excommunicated, a mercy from the King he'd been on good terms with. His mother is left to run the estate; he's still too young.
Even if he were old enough, he's inheriting a ruined name.
Unable to provide personal tutelage with her attentions now elsewhere, his mother sends him to a neighboring family. A friend, of sorts. Nobuchika's played with their son, Shinya, before. However, with limited funds, he won't be getting his schooling paid for without some kind of work. Instead, he's to take the role of a servant of sorts. Temporarily, until he's old enough to take the estate under his name and can be groomed to live up to his title. At first, he resents it. It's awkward, because he and Shinya are on technical uneven footing.
Years pass though, and it takes the sting away. He resents less and less, and somewhere along the way, he gets used to it. Shinya is smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. Gino doesn't feel like he's being talked down to, regardless of their switch in station. When all this is said and done, he'll count him as a true friend again.
Until then, though, he's got work to do.
Which is why he's standing at the foot of the bed, attempting to wake Shinya up without giving into dumping a bucket of water on his head. ]
I've known you this long and I still wonder how it is you can sleep in such an ungainly fashion.
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Smoke and mirrors. That's what his life comes down to these days. For a few moments, Shinya remains sprawled out inelegantly, an arm thrown over his still-closed eyes.
Reality, though, can't be denied. Shinya knows the exact moment Gino will demand his attention again, can almost feel the words gathering in the air, and deliberately moves just before they can be uttered. The muscles of his bare chest shift as he pulls himself into a seating position, hands resting casually against the bed as he tips his head back to look up at Gino.]
Good morning to you too.
[Then he yawns and stretches, in a manner more befitting a hunting dog than any heir to a noble house.]
Where's the coffee?
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Before any words can come out, though, Kou is sitting up, shoulders rolling with the motion. It's almost annoying, because he's long suspected that the other man times him, knows exactly when he's about to say something. And then he derails him with his responses. Frowning, Gino goes towards a nearby side table and picks up the tray there. He'd learned long ago to never approach Shinya with a full tray when he's still asleep. It quickly becomes a mess. ]
Here. I brought up a light breakfast as well; your father says you have a sparring session scheduled soon.
[ With that, he holds the tray steady, going closer to the side of Shinya's bed. ]
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The thought is enough to make Shinya go straight for the coffee. The first sip clears away the last of the lingering cobwebs that cling to his consciousness, and he exhales slowly, disturbing the wisps of steam that drift from the surface of the coffee.]
Thanks, Gino. [The words are almost an automatic reflex, despite (or rather, because of) Lord Kougami's attempts to train him out of it - one doesn't thank their servants. Shinya disagrees.
Besides, he doesn't think of Gino as a servant.
Still sipping at his coffee, he peers up at Gino from under his bangs, looking as stoic as always. In reality, he's about to rib at Gino, but Gino's always been bad at picking up that sort of thing.]
Are you coming along?
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tags this to Selena Gomez's "Good for You"
whispers gaaaaaaaaaay
how is this surprising in the least
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in just a little bit, when you finally understand the answers || gino/akane
As with most of their cases, because for some reason, he always ends up dealing with people who dig their heels in. Kougami had the bit in his teeth over Makishima, and that stubborn streak seems to have rubbed off on Akane. Not that he didn't think she had it in her, honestly. But his ex...friend (???) certainly had been an influence before he left. It was the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about through the entire case; he'd been worried over Tsunemori's hue. Afraid of watching it climb and darken just like Kougami's had before.
Of losing someone else he cared about.
That isn't what happened, naturally. Akane has always been sure of herself in that regard. Her hue is as clear as ever, even with all the upheaval (and mourning). It's been about two weeks since the end of the case and they're still cleaning up. There are a million reports and details and transfer papers to write up. They've taken on a new Enforcer (Ginoza is glad, he likes him) and the Bureau is at work trying to fill the spots that opened up in the other units. All in all, Kamui had left large holes with his work. Gino doesn't know if that's totally what he'd been aiming for, since a lot of those people had nothing to do with the overall scheme (Aoyanagi had gotten caught in the crossfire– he still misses her). What's done is done, though.
Because at the end of the day, he has this. This being his apartment, with Dime asleep in his crate and Akane leaning on his shoulder, dozing. They've both had a long day, as has been the case for a while now. It feels nice to just relax. ]
Not going to fall asleep on me, are you?
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To fit violent bloodstains neatly behind red tape. Or in the case of her grandmother, to quietly take the calls from her family away from the department. That way, no one has to see her face when they tell her it's better for her to not help oversee it. She's busy, after all, and they understand...
As soon as she's neatly returned a stack of bound and organized files to the table in front of her, she finds her weight resting against Ginoza's shoulder. Exhaustion has a peculiar kind of warmth. A creeping kind, almost. Tangible when it moves within her. When Gino takes a nick at her, a smile curves its way into his arm. It's as fond as it is knowing. Perhaps she's just being selfish by spending so much time here lately. Not just in his quarters, but by his side. ]
Will that be a problem?
[ Akane rarely asks questions she won't get an answer to. And luckily, Ginoza is fond of answers she doesn't precisely ask for. His constant concern over her Hue to balance her rarely thinking about it is one such example. This is another. How it feels right, regardless. Idly, her tired hands smooth at the edges of his sleeve. ]
I won't impose so much when I find the time to move.
[ Divorced from what kept her interest in it, her apartment has simply become another empty crime scene. ]
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No, not at all.
[ His response is quiet, but he means every word. Her idle gestures give him a small feeling of warmth, and he uses his free hand to cover her fingers. ]
You're never an imposition, Tsunemori.
[ That came out bolder than he was usually, but he's not going to take the words back. For one, it keeps her out of her apartment– still one he considered a crime scene, regardless of the fact that they're cleaning up after that case. And well, back to his original point; he likes Akane. A lot. She's everything he wasn't, something he should rightfully feel frustration over. Except he's seen what she's gone through, the sacrifices she's made in order to stand strong. To stick by what was in her core. Ginoza knows he can't be like her, can't deal with things in her way (with a seemingly easy grace). So he'll be a support instead, happily sticking to her side, whether that means he's overshadowed or not. ]
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She happily chalks it up to being workaholics that this wasn't the case. That, and two months of faith that was anything but blind. There is no shadow to stand in as long as he walks beside her, after all.
That's why Akane never wonders at the merit of blood being thicker than water, or interchangeable with steel. Ginoza's gloved hand settles over hers, and she cradles it gently, tracing her fingertips over the unyielding outline. There's a subtle familiarity to her touch, a fondness in the way her thumb glides over the material guarding his knuckles. ]
Is that to keep me from going back to my apartment again, I wonder?
[ Gino is a worrier on the best of days. On the job, she tries to keep herself from taking advantage of it. Here, it's a little different. Her brows arch as she glances up at him. ]
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The problem with a couch is that it's too small for two full grown men -- it's barely even enough for Kogami, who has to sleep with his legs dangling off the side and has long made his peace with it.
Gino has made peace with precisely nothing in Kogami's apartment. While the man has been exceptionally tolerant with a lot of Kogami's shit, the thirtieth time of sprawling on a blanket on the floor after sex may have taken its toll, the idea of a bed surfaces with all the alacrity of a partner too damn tired of grinding his bones against the cold hard floor. Blankets can only insulate so much, and Kogami should consider a proper bed because the whole randy teenager blanket sex aesthetic is sexy once in awhile, but not when it becomes a staple in their (lovemaking) ...this. Whatever this is.
Kogami holds out for exactly sixteen and a half days.
Day sixteen and a half, Kogami contemplates the new presence in his room critically. It takes up too much space, this bed, and it's barebones, Kogami not actually inclined to get sheets and covers and other accoutrements for it quite yet. It's an invasion of his sanctum sanctorum, a glaring anomaly in the otherwise strictly utilitarian nature of his study room. Day fourteen and fifteen had been Kogami making space for it, trying not to think about what it means in the grand scheme of romantic development, and the half of day sixteen had been Kogami hard at work on assembling the bed frame himself, finally setting the mattress atop of it. If he's going to be here for the long haul to take Sibyl down together with Akane and Gino, might as well make the best of it.
It's a shirtless, sweaty Kogami (because moving a queen-sized mattress through the building and setting up a sturdy bed frame is a bitch) in the doorway of his room that greets Gino when he turns up.
He grunts, by way of greeting: ]
You got sheets?
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However, he was of the opinion that while they didn't always get a lot of sleep, it was best to get the most out of the hours they could get shut eye. Sleeping on a couch or on the floor was not conducive to a good night's rest, in his opinion. So he'd spent the last two weeks annoying Kogami enough to concede that a bed was a thing that was necessary in their now joined lives.
They'd picked it out, after probably way too much deliberation and arguing. And today, Kogami had spent most of his free time getting everything all moved in and constructed. Gino had taken it upon himself to fill in the blanks– which is to say, get blankets, sheets, pillows. The assortment. Akane had accompanied him, happily helping pick out colors and approving fabrics. All in all, he felt pretty happy.
When he lets himself into the apartment, Kogami looks a little harried, sweat glistening on his brow and along his neck. ]
Of course. Tsunemori gives you in particular her congratulations on "moving up in the world". [ There's clearly quotes there. His hands are too full to make them happen otherwise. Gino sets the shopping bags down near the end of the couch, crouching to rustle through one for a sheet set. Once found, he slips past Kogami into the room, a small smile lighting up his face. ]
This is nice. [ It's more of a murmur before he sets about making the bed, letting Kogami just look on. He'd done the really hard parts, after all. ]
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Gino's presence in this apartment, the bed too big for Kogami alone, brings to mind a truth: the former is going to be a more frequent visitor to his apartment, a less temporary fixture, and he's not entirely sure what to feel about it. A curious sense of acceptance, he supposes -- after all, they're both consenting adults, and even before this whole thing came about they had been best friends. Even so, there is a surreal quality to this domesticity that Kogami cannot help but contemplate, the fact that it's happening to him when he's long assumed that such things will forever be out of reach. ]
I'm surprised, you're actually complimenting the setup. [ Kogami drawls as he leans against the doorway, fishing about for a cigarette to light up. There's a crooked smile that tugs at his mouth, a warmth to the upturn reserved only for Gino, and in response to Tsunemori's dry wit. Domesticity suits Gino, he muses, and it's not difficult to imagine pinning him down to the pillows, breaking in the bed, waking up to having him beside him, all warmth and life and indulging in something as mundane as sleep. ]
Does this mean you'll be coming over more often?
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They're bittersweet memories, looking back. But he holds them close all the same.
And this, between he and Kogami, it's a step in that direction. A permanence, signified in a piece of furniture.
There's a ruffling sound as he unfurls the blanket, snapping his wrists to make sure it laid without as many creases. ]
Why wouldn't I? It really does look nice. [ He brushes out the wrinkle on the corner before stepping back to admire the work. Nothing fancy– he'll spruce it up over time– but it's theirs. ]
I'll have more of a reason to stay, if that's what you're asking. [ Gino slides his glance to Kogami, smile light. ]
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the one where kagari didn't die
Kagari Shuusei regains consciousness in a world like and unlike the one he left. He's been drifting in and out for two weeks, they tell him. The terrorist responsible for the escalating riots is dead. They're curiously silent about Makishima, but he hears the whispers in the halls. Kogami's gone, fled the country, and the only thing he can think of to explain that is that Makishima got the end he so richly deserved. The vicious part of Kagari hopes the fucker suffered.
What's less clear is what happened to the man in the underground; he's sure he saw a dominator down there in that anechoic chamber somehow, but he's told the man was lying dead beside him when he was found. For his efforts in restoring peace to the area, he's told, he's getting an increase in his monthly allowance--all purchases pending approval of an Inspector, of course. It seems overly convenient, but he's not going to complain about having extra money for video games and candy and fresh vegetables to cook.
There sounds like there's one less Inspector in town to do that approving, though. Kagari's not so sure how he feels about that. Kogami was once an inspector, sure, but Kagari had only met him after his demotion, and his preconceptions of the man were proved wrong in that first fight. Gino, on the other hand ... well, Kagari knew how he felt about latent criminals. Irony sure was a bitch, wasn't it.
...Speak of the devil, huh? Kagari pushes himself up on the bed at the appearance of his former superior. They both look different than they last saw each other; Ginoza without his glasses and Kagari without hair gel, brunette roots having grown out from behind the red-orange.
He smirks, a little too sharp. On some level, he's grateful that Gino came to see him. But pettiness is an easy urge to succumb to, and what little filter he might usually have is out the window with the pain medication percolating in his system.]
Well, well, well, look who it is. How's the hunting dog life treating you, Gino-san?
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Gino almost wishes he could wipe his own memory clean. Start over.
But he doesn't deserve it, so he pushes his way through the days. Stabilizes his coefficient enough to be hired back on as a hunting dog. How fitting. Ironic– and it should be bitter, but he can't quite make himself feel that bad about it. There's a weight off his shoulders. Tsunemori points and he shoots, he runs, he does whatever her small hands and voice tell him to.
He's grateful she made it through to the end.
He's doubly grateful that they'd lost so little of the team. Kogami was gone, sure, but he feels like that was an inevitability. Masaoka; he didn't want to think about that too hard just yet. Kagari, though, he was young, had so much ahead of him. So he goes to check in, signs his name neatly on the visitor's sheet where the nurse sits. Gino has his suit on, he's cut his hair and lost the glasses. When he looks at Kagari, he feels like a completely different person and yet, someone who has been seen through all the same. ]
I'm still whole. [ Not exactly, with the arm and all. ] How do you feel?
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Like someone backed one of those police vans over me.
[Still blunt, though. He flops back down on the pillow, then, not really sure how to approach this. It's weird. Ginoza was the one who first recruited him, throwing down the metaphorical rope by which he could finally escape from his own personal hell. But there's always been a sharp division between them; Kagari was the latent criminal, the one who was flawed, damaged, dangerous. The one who didn't belong in society, and Gino was the one meant to keep him on a leash. Kagari has never hated him, no more than he's hated society at large, but being equals with Ginoza Nobuchika is oddly uncomfortable, when their relationship was originally premised on himself being an inferior class of human being.]
Be better if you snuck in some booze, though.
[He ... may or may not be kidding ??? kagari pls]
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:o !!
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