Karasu has always denied any accusations of his crow traits being carried over into his human form.
Who are we f*cking kidding? Otoya thinks as he stares down at the growing pile of sticks on their balcony.
“I like that one.” He says, pointing to no one stick in particular. If he was being honest, they all kind of looked the same to him but he was trying to spare Karasu’s feelings. Who knows how long he spent searching for that specific piece of wood?
Though, he is starting to regret being so considerate when Karasu turns to fix him with an incredulous stare.
“It’s a stick.” He says flatly.
“I know that, genius.” Otoya rolls his eyes. “But you seemed to like it enough to bring it back home.”
“For the last time, I don’t go around collecting sticks.”
“Aw, no need to act shy.” Otoya coos, standing on his tiptoes so he can wrap his arms around his unfairly tall boyfriend. “Don’t worry, darling. I just want to share in your interests.”
Karasu’s wings flare. “Don’t call me that.” He mutters, but he’s fighting a losing battle and they both know it.
Otoya hums softly and presses a kiss against pink cheeks. “Sorry, baby.” He smirks, before bursting into giggles when a feather drifts down to lightly swat at his face.
“It’s not like I’m the only crow in Tokyo.” Karasu argues. “There could literally be hundreds of other birds doing this.”
“Right. And they all come to dump sticks only on my balcony?”
“Maybe they come because ya eat sh*t out here and don’t bother sweeping up the crumbs.”
“Wow. Okay, asshole.” Otoya pulls away slightly so he can glare at him. “Way to pin the blame on me.”
“I’m just being realistic.”
“No, you’re going back into the shoebox.”
“Not the shoebox.” Karasu replies in mock horror. A couple of seconds pass where they just stare at each other, twin smiles on their faces before breaking out into laughter.
Otoya’s head quickly finds its resting place on Karasu’s shoulder and in response, ebony wings wrap themselves around him to offer some shade from the morning sun.
“I’m hungry.” He whines, blinking up at the taller man. “Take me out to breakfast.”
Karasu raises a brow. “What? My cooking not good enough for ya?”
“Well, I didn’t want to break your heart...”
“So shut it.” Karasu scowls.
“Make me.” Otoya taunts, green eyes sparkling in what is such an obvious bait. Really, the only way he could be any more obvious was if he held up a neon sign saying ‘LET’S TRAUMATISE OUR NEIGHBOURS!’ and waved it in his face.
He’s doing none of that, but Karasu falls for it anyway.
They must’ve kissed thousands of times at this point, but Otoya still feels like he’s floating on air each time Karasu’s lips slot against his own, moving in tandem with his heartbeat. Or was it the other way around?
His hands wander mindlessly, trailing across the broad expanse of Karasu’s back like they’re charting undiscovered territory. They brush against plush feathers and dig into sensitive skin, raking shudders down the winged-man’s spine and possibly driving him a little insane too.
“Spoiled brat.” Karasu murmurs when they pull away, breath hot against his skin.
“sh*tty crow.” Otoya retorts, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. He’s distinctly more lightheaded than before, and he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the heat.
Without warning, strong arms lift him up and it’s through sheer instinct alone that Otoya wraps his legs around Karasu’s torso, clinging on for dear life.
“Go put on some actual clothes and then we can go.” Karasu tells him smugly, carrying him across the threshold of the balcony and into their apartment like he weighed nothing.
It’s not lost on Otoya how insanely hot it feels to be picked up so easily. He smiles and tangles his fingers through gelled hair, eyes half-lidded. “What? You’re not digging my outfit?” He asks, gesturing innocently to his gym shorts and oversized tee. The T-shirt featured some stupid chemistry pun, hung loosely off his shoulders and may or may not have belonged to his taller, more muscular boyfriend.
“‘Course I like it.” Karasu grins, almost predatorily. He leans in closer to whisper in his ear, rough hands squeezing his waist as he does so.
“I just don’t want anyone but me lookin’ at cha.” He admits in a low voice, something dark and possessive.
Otoya gulps.
(If he wasn’t so hungry for actual food, he might’ve just locked Karasu in their bedroom and spent the rest of the day there.)
Somehow though, they manage to make it out of their apartment before the sun sets.
Karasu’s height meant Otoya almost always had to walk faster just to be able to keep up with his longer strides, something that annoyed him to no end even after three years of dating. Karasu teases him for it, but their hands never leave each other’s as they weave through the bustling streets of Tokyo, dodging incoming cyclists and busy office workers.
They reach their favourite café in no time, and Otoya takes the seat Karasu pulls out for him without batting an eye. He gags after one sip of the older man’s Americano (“Why do ya still try it if yer gonna make the same reaction every time?”) while Karasu wrinkles his nose at whatever sugar-loaded abomination he orders.
Breakfast consists, as it usually does, of Otoya stealing bites from Karasu’s plate, green eyes twinkling with every attempt at stopping him that he manages to evade.
“I like your food better.” He says after a long moment of chewing.
“Of course ya do.” Karasu rolls his eyes, but he swaps their plates regardless.
Their shoulders bump as they talk, because they’re the kind of couple who prefer to sit together rather than across from each other. If Otoya concentrates hard enough he swears he can feel the presence of phantom wings circling around him, feathers tickling the nape of his neck with every slight movement he makes.
He knows deep down it’s not possible. Karasu didn’t have a choice other than to hide his wings when they were out in public. Otoya just liked to pretend that they were always there.
(As embarrassing as it was to admit, they made him feel safe and he has an inkling Karasu knows that too.)
After paying they begin making their way back home, fingers lazily intertwined and stomachs full as they step out into cool summer air.
They’re only a couple blocks away from their apartment when out of nowhere he turns to Karasu, a burning question on the tip of his tongue.
“Hey Tabito, would you still love me if I was a worm?”
Karasu is so caught off-guard that he actually stops in his tracks.
“What kind of f*cking question is that?” He balks.
“A very pressing and totally valid one that needs answering immediately.”
Karasu stares at him like he’s grown a second head.
“Ya can’t be serious.” He says slowly.
“I’m dead serious.” Otoya replies in the most monotone voice.
“Why would ya even be a worm in the first place?” Karasu asks, exasperated.
Otoya scrunches his nose. “That’s not how this works. I’m the one asking questions here. Stop it.”
“Okay, fine. So yer a worm. Can ya still talk?” Karasu continues, completely bypassing what he just said.
“Really, dude?” It’s Otoya’s turn now to fix him with an unimpressed stare. “Worms can’t talk.”
“That’s what yer worried about? Not the fact that ya somehow magically turned into a worm?”
He shrugs. “I don’t see a problem with it. Why, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Karasu answers, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Other than, ya know, the fact that people don’t just randomly turn into anima—”
There’s an excruciating pause.
Like the loving boyfriend that he is, Otoya patiently waits for him to finish his sentence. He doesn’t have high hopes of it happening anytime soon though, given that Karasu looked like he was on the brink of short-circuiting. A part of him almost wishes he had his camera out so he could record the historic moment that was Karasu’s braincells collectively imploding in on themselves, but he (wisely) chooses otherwise.
After what feels like an eternity, the taller man takes a long, deep breath that sounds more like a sigh than anything else and opens his mouth to speak.
(f*cking finally. Any longer and Otoya was actually going to combust. He’s pretty sure the Sanzu River flashes before his eyes like, three times, while trying to hold in his laughter.)
“Don’t.” Karasu rubs the crease between his brows. “f*cking start.”
Otoya’s sh*t-eating grin never falters.
“Good to have you back, honey. Remembered that you’re a crow yet?”
“Eita, what did I just say.”
“Okay, okay. Calm your tit*.” Otoya says dryly. Karasu catches him by the wrist before he can do something stupid like grope his chest in public.
Damn it.
I’ll get them next time, Otoya thinks sulkily, shameless in the way he’s now openly staring at Karasu’s chest. Internally, he marvels at how little his T-shirt left to the imagination, the thin fabric stretched out and sinfully tight in all the right places.
“Oi, eyes up here.” Karasu scowls, flicking him across the forehead to get his attention. “I swear yer impossible. Why am I even dating ya?”
“Because you love me and can’t live without me.” Otoya answers without missing a beat. “The real question here is: would you still love me if I was a worm?”
“Yer weirdly hung up on this.” Karasu points out.
“It keeps me up at night. Like, would your bird instincts take over and make you eat me? Could we even work out as a couple? Or would you just see me as foo—Tabito, are you listening to me?”
Karasu’s head snaps back from where he’d been staring off into the distance. “Sorry, what?” He asks, mind clearly elsewhere.
Otoya frowns. It wasn’t like his boyfriend to get distracted. That was sort of his thing usually.
“What were you looking at?”
“Nothin’.” Karasu replies, a little too quickly. “Let’s go home.” He tugs on his wrist and tries to drag him away but Otoya moves faster. With a practiced ease, he slips out of Karasu’s grasp and steps to the side, putting some distance between them before he even has a chance to react.
“What’s got you acting so weird?” Otoya grumbles, green eyes darting around to suspiciously scan their surroundings. He tries following Karasu’s previous line of sight, unsure of what it is he’s supposed to be searching for.
Nothing could ever prepare him for the jewellery store his gaze lands on.
He blinks once, twice. Behind him, Karasu looked like he desperately wished he could hide behind his wings.
The shop was nothing special really. Probably newly opened, since he’d never seen it before. Frankly, it looked just like every other high-end jewellery store out there, with its spotless carpets and high ceilings and freakishly posh-looking employees. Otoya had a distinct feeling that him and his beat-up Converse would not be welcomed in there.
They were advertising their latest engagement collection, if the rows of precious stones and diamond rings in the display window were anything to go by. Otoya stood, enthralled by the way they caught the light and sparkled, until a hand on his wrist pulls him back to reality and he turns to find Karasu staring at him nervously.
“‘Toya, I—”
Otoya cuts him off.
“Were you looking at rings?” He questions.
Real, palpable panic flashes across blue eyes.
For once in his life, Karasu wasn’t running his mouth. He usually couldn’t be bothered to shut up most days but now he remains rooted to the spot, frozen stiff and looking anywhere but him. It’s so wildly out of character that Otoya’s chest tightens painfully at the sight.
Gingerly, he reaches out to intertwine their fingers, letting himself smile when Karasu squeezes back out of reflex.
“I always knew crows liked shiny things,” Otoya says, voice light and teasing. “But you’re not actually thinking of robbing the store, are you?”
The cornered-animal look in Karasu’s eyes disappears in a flash, the muscles in his shoulders un-tensing in a way that reminded him of talons unfurling.
“Shut up.” He mutters, burying his face into the crook of Otoya’s neck and exhaling deeply. “I don’t care about shiny things. I told ya that already.”
Or so he says.
Otoya feels a strange sense of déjà vu when he walks onto the balcony one day and feels something brush against his foot.
Thankfully, it’s not a bird this time. At least, Otoya hoped it wasn’t. He didn’t think birds were metallic or cold to the touch but then again, he never knew shapeshifters existed last time either.
Whatever it is though, it sure is bright. This past summer has been brutal so far and Otoya wasn’t really in the mood to spend it roasting beneath the sun any longer. Squinting to himself, he bends down and reaches around blindly for the damn thing before hightailing it back inside.
Closing the balcony door with one hand, he stares blankly at the silver locket resting in the palm of his other.
Huh.
He turns it around in his hand, fiddling with the chain as he does so. It wasn’t new, that much was clear. There were scratches all over the heart-shaped pendant, and if the specks of dirt on it were any indication then it had likely been sitting on the ground for a while. He tries opening the pendant to see if there was a picture on the inside like in those old-timey movies, but it was so rusty at this point that the clasp barely even works.
Was this Karasu’s idea of a gift? It was a nice sentiment, and Otoya loved his boyfriend enough that he would honestly cherish anything he gave him. Still, the thought of Karasu picking up a dirty necklace didn’t exactly sit right with him. Karasu already acted so high and mighty that he would’ve had no trouble waltzing into the snobby jewellery store they passed by last time and getting him something from there instead.
A prank, maybe? He had gotten on Karasu’s nerves once or twice this week, but that goes without saying. Besides, it’s not like he had any right to complain. Not when he had had that whole first week while he was stuck as a crow to assess what Otoya was like and still ended up falling in love with him. If this somehow was Karasu’s actual attempt at getting back at him, then it was a real sh*tty one too.
At the end of it all, Otoya comes to the pretty solid conclusion that crows did, in fact, like shiny things, and that Karasu Tabito was a big f*cking liar.
Whatever, he huffs as he slips the locket into his bedside drawer for safekeeping. He’ll let it slide for now, because he’s kind and forgiving and definitely not because he forgets about it the second Karasu comes home with freshly-fried karaage chicken.
Another time, it’s a dusty heirloom ring.
Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Otoya thinks with a shake of his head. He then pauses to finger gun at nothing in particular because holy sh*t, he sounded smart as hell just now. Would Karasu think he was sexy if he repeated that again?
Otoya bites his lip and quietly files away that piece of information into the back of his mind. For now, he reverts his attention back to the ring.
It’s studded with jewels and decidedly very shiny. Otoya can see why Karasu would pick it off the ground, especially if he was soaring above from a distance. He just hopes some sweet old grandma wasn’t wandering around Tokyo in search of it. Now that would be awkward.
Without thinking too much, he slides it onto his fourth finger then proceeds to stare, misty-eyed, at it for the next several minutes.
Needless to say, he doesn’t talk to Karasu about the ring afterwards.
“Thrice is a pattern, Tabito.” Otoya announces as he steps back into their apartment, holding up the rare Pokémon card he just found on—you guessed it—their balcony.
Karasu gawks at him.
“Did ya just use a saying?” He asks, unable to keep the shock from creeping into his voice. There’s an undercurrent of something else lying beneath his words too—something, Otoya notes with no small amount of glee, that closely resembled desire.
“I f*cking knew it.” He whispers, pumping his fist in the air. Karasu looked confused by his reaction for all of two seconds before Otoya quickly wipes it off his face with a searing kiss.
“Not that I don’t like the presents,” He says when he pulls away, smiling when Karasu unconsciously begins chasing after his lips. “But could you maybe start leaving them inside? It’s getting hot out on the balcony these days.”
Karasu wrinkles his nose.
“I don’t know what yer talking about.” He insists.
Otoya takes one look at his red ears and thinks: Liar.
“Really?” He crosses his arms. “You have no clue whatsoever about whoever’s leaving random stuff on our balcony?”
“None at all.” Karasu deadpans, effectively ending their conversation so he can go back to unpacking their groceries. Otoya sulks at this and opens his mouth to sulk outwardly too when something catches his eye.
“Oh, you got those melon popsicles that I like.” He exclaims, happily taking one out of the box before Karasu can swat his hand away.
He scoffs. “Had ta. Ya would’ve talked my ear off if I didn’t.”
Otoya hops onto the kitchen counter and shoots him a grin, already peeling off the wrapper. “You know me so well.”
“I do.” Karasu replies at once, practically radiating smugness. “And I know you’ve been wanting ta go somewhere fer summer vacation too.”
At this Otoya sits up straighter, half-eaten popsicle dangling precariously from his fingertips. “No way. Seriously?”
Karasu smirks at him, a knowing glint in his sharp blue eyes.
“How do ya feel about Osaka?”
°˖➴
On August 14th , they make their way to Karasu’s hometown.
It’s a six hour drive, one they’ve made plenty of times throughout the course of their relationship. The idea of being stuck in a car for hours on end hadn’t really appealed to Otoya at first, but it turned out having your hot boyfriend behind the wheel worked wonders in changing your perspective. Karasu could navigate the busy Tokyo roads as easily as he flew through vast skies, one hand wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and the other resting firmly on Otoya’s thigh.
On trips like these, Otoya was more than fine with letting Karasu go on long tangents about the stock market and artificial intelligence and whatever else it was he did as a data analyst. He’d be lying if he said he understood any of it, but there was something undeniably cute about seeing the older man act like a big nerd.
Plus, Karasu couldn’t curse at oncoming traffic if he was too busy lecturing Otoya on the importance of investing in cloud analytics. It was a win-win.
“You doing okay?” He asks, three hours in.
Karasu makes an absentminded noise of affirmation, eyes still glued to the road.
“I could take over if you’re tired.” He suggests, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah, no chance.” Karasu snorts, giving his thigh a harsh squeeze like that will somehow prevent him from leaving the passenger seat.
“Ugh.” Otoya lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Will you get over it already? I’m not even a bad driver.”
“Funny. I could’ve sworn ya nearly killed us both speeding on that first day.”
Otoya glares at him. “Because I was trying to get your sorry ass to the vet.”
“And we would’ve gotten there without ya going 30 over the speed limit.”
“Whatever, asshole.” Otoya sinks deeper into his seat with a pout. “You just hate it when other people drive because you’re not the one in control.”
“Hey now,” Karasu drawls. “Don’t pretend like ya don’t love it when I drive ya around. Yer every bit of the spoiled brat that ya think yer aren’t.”
Otoya mulls it over.
“…I do like you being my personal chauffeur, not gonna lie.” He admits with a faint smile.
“See?” Karasu clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. “Like I said, spoiled.”
“Don’t complain when you’re the one doing all the spoiling. You could always just fly us there if you wanted.”
“I am not carrying yer fat ass and our luggage.”
Otoya turns to him, scandalised.
“Did you just call my ass fat?”
(Karasu spends the better part of their break at the next rest stop trying to appease him. It takes approximately two offerings of churros and some desperate pleading peppered in between kisses before the younger man stops with his silent treatment.
The thing is, Otoya isn’t even really that mad. He does, however, find the lengths that Karasu is willing to go to funny and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity go to waste.)
Soon, the cityscape fades into a palette of lush greens and blue skies.
His luggage has barely left the trunk of the car when Otoya is swiftly pulled into a bone-crushing hug by a short, middle-aged woman.
“Okaa-san.” He exclaims, returning her hug with equal fervour. “I missed you.”
Karasu’s mother smiles, and it makes her look younger beyond her years despite the fine lines on her face and grey feathers in her wings.
“It’s so good ta see ya, Eita.” She says warmly, holding his hands in hers and tutting. “Tabito hasn’t been starving ya, has he?”
A gelled head pokes out from behind the car, annoyed.
“What the hell are ya blaming me fer?” Karasu snaps, slamming the trunk shut. He bends over to pick up their bags and nearly falls to his knees when a hand slams down onto his back out of nowhere.
“Yer as pissy as always.” Karasu’s sister snickers. “Honestly, Eita. How do ya live with him?”
Otoya pretends to ponder the question.
“It’s easier than you’d think, actually.” He replies, winking at her. “I just keep him wrapped around my finger.”
She laughs, and Karasu goes pink. By now he had gotten back up and was circling the older woman like a petulant baby crow, wings flared and eyes narrowed.
Otoya grins at the scene. It wasn’t everyday he had the luxury of seeing his boyfriend acting like a bratty younger sibling, something almost exclusively reserved for their trips back home. Though, a small part of him was thankful that Karasu had the foresight to wear his shirt with the pre-cut slits before coming. Not because he was opposed to Karasu’s shirt ripping apart to accommodate his wings—far from it, actually—but because he’s at least 75% certain that popping a boner in front of your boyfriend’s entire family wasn’t a very smart move.
“f*ck off, Yoriko.” Karasu scowls, jaw tense like he’s seriously contemplating murdering his only sister on the spot. She doesn’t reply, just watches him with an aggravating smirk that Otoya recognised all too well, having seen it reflected on his own boyfriend’s face too many times to count.
Karasu’s father steps in right before their spat properly dissolves into a full-blown fight. Otoya tries not to let his disappointment show.
“Let’s head in now, shall we?” He suggests, amicable in his demeanour but leaving no room for argument. The two siblings break apart, heads hanging and wings drooping shamefully. Not that the older man would know, seeing as he barely spares them a glance when he turns to help Otoya carry his luggage.
Otoya protests against this repeatedly—I can carry it myself, Otou-san, really—but for a retired banker, Karasu’s father sure was stubborn.
They walk past countless bird feeders and bird baths strewn across the lawn, taking in the fresh country air and making small talk all the while. Otoya feels a slight twinge of nostalgia in his chest as he catches sight of the Karasu family residence in the distance. He’d long since grown attached to the little apartment he’s made his own with Tabito, but coming back to Osaka always felt like returning to his second home.
It's a swift transition from dumping their luggage in Karasu’s childhood bedroom and then being steered onto the porch for some catching up. The both of them refuse any lunch, having already eaten theirs at the rest stop, but that doesn’t stop Karasu’s mother from heaping freshly-sliced watermelon on their plates and refilling their cups with barley tea.
Otoya doesn’t mind; he’s always down to hear embarrassing stories of his boyfriend as a child, regardless of how many times Yoriko has recounted them before. Between Karasu’s flustered reactions and the chill atmosphere, he’d say he’s having a pretty good time, all in all.
Soon, everyone retires back to their rooms for some much-needed rest. Karasu is out like a light the second his head hits the pillow, understandably tired from the drive here.
Otoya lets him sleep, doing his best to unpack some of their things as quietly as he can. He doesn’t even complain about the loud snores filling the room, which must be the greatest testament of true love or something.
Once he’s done, he leans against the bed and swipes through social media for all of twenty minutes before growing restless. There wasn’t really much to do in the room unless Otoya wanted to read through his boyfriend’s high school reports—which, he really didn’t, and so he makes the spur-of-the-moment decision to head back downstairs.
He kisses Karasu’s cheek on his way out, smiling softly when the taller man scrunches his nose in his sleep. Leaving their room without making any noise was easy enough, given how he’s had every creak in the floor memorised from the day Karasu first brought him here.
Although he doesn’t run into anyone else on the way down, he is greeted by a heavenly smell that leads him straight to the kitchen, where he finds Karasu’s mother hunched over the stove.
“That smells amazing, Okaa-san.” He says in lieu of announcing his presence. Surprise flickers across the older woman’s face at his arrival for the briefest of moments before she beams, ushering him closer so they’re finally standing side-by-side.
“Thank you, Eita dear. I just finished making the okonomiyaki.” She nods in the direction of the kitchen counter, still smiling at him. “They’re over there cooling off.”
“Sweet. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
She tilts her head. “Would ya?”
Otoya nods profusely.
Her smile widens, and it makes Otoya feel a strange buzz of happiness knowing that his boyfriend’s mother was fond of him. It was like winning his favourite character from the gacha machine on his first try, except ten times better.
“I was just ‘bout ta get started on the kenchinjiru.” She explains, gesturing to the pot of boiling water behind her. “Can ya chop up these carrots fer me first?”
Otoya, of course, agrees readily.
It’s only five minutes later, when he’s staring blankly down at the vegetables laid out across his chopping board with an apron tied around his waist and a knife in his hand, does he remember his disastrous track record with cooking. There’s a reason Karasu had him banned from their kitchen for anything that didn’t involve takeaway food or microwave dinners after all.
Still, backing out now would mean letting Okaa-san down, and that was out of the question.
With a newly-ignited resolve, he clumsily starts chopping away, leaving a trail of haphazardly-sized carrot chunks in his wake.
Karasu’s mother whips her head towards him in shock.
“Be careful not ta cut yer fingers, love.” She frets, rushing over to help him. Otoya lets her take the knife away, watching in awe when experienced hands begin moving at speeds his brain can barely even comprehend, turning the carrot into a pile of thinly-sliced strips in seconds where he probably would’ve taken hours.
“Okaa-san.”
“Mhm?”
“You’re incredible.” He whispers reverently, unable to take his eyes off her knife skills.
She looks up, startled by the praise.
“This? Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She says dismissively.
Otoya continues staring at her like she just committed blasphemy.
“Are you kidding? This is like, modern art.”
Karasu’s mother can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement.
“Goodness, I’ve never heard that one before.” She chuckles, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “How about this, dear? Ya can help crumble the tofu. No need fer a knife, just using yer hands is fine.”
Otoya jumps at the opportunity, eager to do something more in his lane especially after messing up so badly in front of his boyfriend’s mother.
Far from being annoyed at his inability to use a kitchen knife though, she just watches him knowingly.
“Tabito treats ya well, doesn’t he?” She asks gently.
Otoya flushes. Damn this family and their freakishly keen sense of observation.
“He does.” He admits in a quiet voice, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.
The older woman just smiles.
“I’m glad.” She says simply. Otoya half-expected her to give him sh*t for making her precious son do all the cooking, but all she does is swap out the carrots for radishes and begin cutting them instead.
Thinking that that was the end of the conversation, he goes back to prepping the tofu in a small bowl. It’s a comfortable silence, with the only sounds filling the kitchen being the thud! thud! thud! of her knife against the chopping board. Until—
“I’m so glad ya were the one who found him that day, Eita.” She whispers.
Otoya’s hands stop what they’re doing. The last time he’s ever heard Okaa-san sound so… fragile was three years ago; When her prideful façade broke once and for all and left her stumbling over words, teary-eyed as she thanked him over and over again for saving her only son.
He sucks in a shaky breath, pretends he’s not five seconds away from crying into a bowl of mashed-up tofu.
“Yeah, I am too.”
Dinner starts off sceptically.
“Ya helped ma cook? Really?” Karasu asks for the sixth time in a row.
—And it was coming from his own boyfriend, too. Otoya has never felt more betrayed.
He tries his best to answer around a mouthful of rice and soup, but all he manages is an incoherent garble. Karasu’s mother just smiles and pats his full cheeks, setting down yet another juicy chicken leg onto his plate before he can refuse.
“Eita was very helpful.” She affirms.
“Are we talking about the same Eita here?”
I will trade you away for one potato chip, Otoya thinks sulkily.
“Big talk fer someone who didn’t even help out.” Yoriko snorts. “I could hear yer snores halfway across Osaka, idiot.”
“Ya did not.” Karasu scowls, chopsticks poised like he’s getting ready to stab his older sister.
Otoya normally would’ve encouraged the fight but a) he knows Karasu’s father would stop them before anything exciting happens anyway, and b) he was going to make Tabito eat his words (literally) even if it killed him.
He scoops up a spoonful of soup, blowing on it a few times before bringing it to the other man’s lips.
“Here, Tabi. Taste.” He nudges the spoon closer, watching as blue eyes widen. “I crumbled the tofu for this. You’ll love it, I swear.”
“What are y—I can eat myself.” Karasu splutters, leaning away so quickly that a few drops end up splattering on the table. Otoya persists anyway.
“Well, why can’t I feed you?” He pouts, knowing Karasu had a hard time resisting him when he got like this.
“Because.” He hisses, gaze frantically darting around the dinner table, hyper-aware of the fact that his entire family was sitting around watching them.
“Oh, no. We don’t mind. Go ahead.” Karasu’s father replies cheerfully. Yoriko doesn’t even bother hiding her sh*t-eating grin.
Karasu’s mother, on the other hand, looked like she was expecting grandkids to start spawning out of the ground at any given moment. So, um, that was awkward. Otoya really didn’t want to be the one to break the bad news to her, so he turns back to Karasu expectantly.
“See? Otou-san approves. Eat up.”
Karasu levels him with an unimpressed stare.
“I’m not gettin’ out of this, am I?”
Otoya smiles placidly. “I’ll hunt you down if you even think about flying away.”
The taller man sighs and, to Otoya’s delight, inches closer. He bites his lip to refrain from making airplane noises when Karasu leans down to eat from his spoon, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. It’s honestly the cutest thing he’s ever seen. As much as Otoya loved his boyfriend and all his grumpy old man-isms, he also adored the shyer, softer side of him that jumped out at moments like these.
(Karasu must’ve known that too, because he spends the rest of their meal picking out the meat from his bowl and placing it in Otoya’s own. It’s so distractingly sweet that Otoya swears he could just kiss him right then and there.)
Offering to clean up after dinner should not have been as hard as it was.
Seriously, you would think Otoya had said he preferred owls or something from the way Karasu’s mother reacted. She’d practically tried to wrestle the dishes out of his hands before Karasu stepped in and volunteered to help out too.
Now, Otoya wasn’t weak by any means, but he’s pretty sure nothing about his ninja ancestry has ever prepared him for facing stern housewives armed with giant wings and a mean wooden spoon. He was as out of his depth as anyone could possibly be. He was out-depthed.
“Ya had enough ta eat?” Karasu asks, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s drying dishes next to him, wings taking up so much space even when folded that Otoya brushes up against them every time he leans towards the sink.
He rinses the lather off one of the plates, looking his boyfriend dead in the eye. “Tabito, your mother could’ve fed an entire village with that dinner.”
Karasu snorts at this, shaking his head. “I told her not ta go overboard, but she never listens.”
Otoya bumps their shoulders together lightly. “Hey, I wasn’t complaining. Her food is bomb, dude. I could eat it every day.”
“You’d just get sick of it.”
“Nuh-uh.” Otoya denies, adamant.
‘Yeah, right.” Karasu flicks a soap bubble at his face. “Anyway, it’s hard ta believe that yer the same guy I know.”
“Uncalled for.” Otoya scowls, rubbing harshly at his face. Karasu better f*cking pray no soap got into his eyes or he was filing a complaint straight to his mother. “And what the hell are you talking about?”
The older man takes pity on him eventually, grabbing a clean cloth to help wipe the suds off his face. When Otoya blinks his eyes open again Karasu is cradling his cheek tenderly, an action that would’ve normally elicited butterflies in his stomach if not for the infuriating smirk he was wearing. Now it just makes him want to punch his boyfriend in the face.
“I mean ya don’t even do chores in yer own home.” Karasu explains with faint amusem*nt. “But look at ya now, runnin’ around and helpin’ ma cook n’ clean. Maybe I should just keep ya here forever.”
“Fine by me.” Otoya shrugs. And he means it. “I love your family.”
“…Oh.” Karasu’s voice cracks a little at the end.
“Something wrong, Tabi?” Otoya asks carefully, trying to make sense of his unreadable expression. Seriously, what was it with them and having weird moments in kitchens?
“Everything’s good.” Karasu answers after some thoughtful silence, using the hand cupping his cheek to guide the shorter man into a delicate kiss.
Okay, this Otoya could work with. He hums and leans into the kiss, a different kind of hunger than before.
“Why don’t ya head up first?” Karasu says when they finally pull apart, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. “I’ll finish up on my own.”
“You know I’m not saying ‘no’ to that, but won’t your family get the wrong idea and think I’m treating you like a maid?”
“Ya already do that anyway.” Karasu rolls his eyes. “Now f*ck off before I change my mind.”
Otoya grins, pressing a quick kiss onto the tip of his nose before bolting. “Aye-aye, captain.”
When Karasu returns to their room, Otoya doesn’t hesitate to drag him into bed and wrap him up in a blanket prison, where they remain for the next several hours cuddling and watching football compilations.
His eyelids threaten to close multiple times throughout the video but he stubbornly refuses to sleep even when Karasu tells him to, hanging on to his last shreds of consciousness by sheer virtue of being a pain in the ass. It’s an uphill battle, and he stifles his yawn into Karasu’s shoulder enough times to warrant annoyed grumbling but not enough to stop the older man from essentially acting as his pillow.
“I’m not waking ya up if ya sleep through lunch tomorrow.” Karasu tells him, bold words coming from a man who was inevitably dragging him out of bed the next day. Otoya didn’t know why he still pretended like he didn’t care, but he wasn’t about to interfere with his boyfriend’s tsundere moment.
They continue bickering like it’s their night-time routine and maybe it is, because they trade insults as easily as they trade kisses and Otoya has never felt more comfortable than he does now, tucked away beneath the covers with the only person who truly mattered. He probably could’ve fallen asleep right then and there if he didn’t happen to have ulterior motives for staying awake.
He finally slips out of bed some time before midnight. At Karasu’s questioning look, he gives some flimsy excuse of needing to take a sh*t and laughs when the other’s face contorts into disgust.
At 12 o’ clock on the dot, he walks out of the bathroom and just—waits.
Karasu doesn’t look his way at first. But when he takes too long to return to bed he grows visibly impatient and snaps his head up, only to freeze the second he gets a good look at him.
Otoya leans against the doorway, nice and smug in his too-large jersey. “KARASU” was printed across its back in big, bold letters, with the hem barely just brushing past his hips and poorly disguising the fact that he was wearing nothing else underneath.
There was something immensely gratifying, really, about the way Karasu's breath hitches in his throat, blue eyes raking hungrily over his figure as he struggled to keep his jaw clamped shut.
“Like what you see?” Otoya practically purrs, the cliché line rolling off his tongue without the slightest hint of shame.
“As a matter of fact, I do, actually.” Karasu swallows, voice rough. “What’s the occasion?”
Otoya’s lips curl, and he pushes himself off the door, revelling in the way those very same eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of his hips as he walks back to bed.
He settles himself onto the taller man’s lap, all pretty smiles and low-lidded eyes as he leans in to toy with the drawstring of his sweatpants.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasised about having sex on your childhood bed before.” He whispers lowly, hot breath ghosting over the inner shell of Karasu’s ear and sending a thrilling course of electricity down his spine.
In the blink of an eye, large, feathery wings shoot out from between strong shoulder blades where they had previously been hidden away, filling up the small room at once and casting imposing shadows across the wall.
Karasu doesn’t so much as flinch from the sudden extra weight on his back, but his grip on Otoya’s thigh tightens almost painfully so.
Well, sh*t. He was really riled up.
Otoya grins wickedly as he pulls his boyfriend into a heated kiss.
“Happy birthday, my love.” He murmurs tenderly when they eventually break apart, breathless and panting and too far gone at this point. He looks straight into dilated pupils as he guides Karasu’s hand lower and lower, voice barely above a rasp. “Well? Are you ready to unwrap your present?”
A deep growl is the only answer he gets before he’s unceremoniously shoved backwards onto the mattress, and Otoya is quickly forced to accept that the chances of him getting any sleep tonight were slim to none.
(The chances of him getting some though? Astronomically high.)
Somehow, they manage to make it out of bed the next day and out into the living room where Karasu’s family immediately bombard them with cake and celebrations. Presents are exchanged, photos are taken and then everyone is ushered into the dining room for the birthday feast.
Otoya’s pretty sure he eats enough to last him a lifetime, and he’s also pretty sure that Yoriko is secretly judging the cheap concealer he used to cover up the marks on his neck but it’s all worth it in the end because the conclusion of lunch brings about what is arguably his favourite tradition.
“Ma, will you stop it already?” Karasu hisses out, growing redder and redder with each page she flips through. Otoya is too busy trying to burn the image of a three year old Tabito smiling toothily atop his little rocking chair into his retinas to really pay his boyfriend any mind.
In response, Karasu’s mother casually sets out another photo album onto their already-cluttered porch.
“Ma!”
“Eita, come and see this.” She says coolly, a stark contrast to the warm hand she places on Otoya’s shoulder. “I misplaced it last time ya were here. They’re photos of Tabito back when he was in elementary school.” She gestures towards the album with a fond smile, something mirrored by Otoya as he scoots over to take a closer look.
“You’re the best, Okaa-san.” He tells her, almost reverently.
She laughs, and Otoya notices how her smile lines deepen along with it. They frame her features so naturally that he briefly wonders if this was a sneak peek into what Karasu would look like, thirty, maybe fifty years into the future.
“Go on, look through as much of these as ya want. If Tabito tries ta stop ya just tell me or give him a good tug on the ear, okay?” She pats his head affectionately, moving to get up and leave. “That always worked fer me when he was younger.”
“Ma.” Karasu sounded utterly defeated at this point. Otoya stifles a snicker behind his hand, though he doesn’t do a very good job of it judging by the glare Karasu sends him before turning back to his mother. “Where are ya going anyway?”
“Ta check on yer father and sister. They should be done with the dishes by now.” She answers, wiping her hands on her apron. “An’ there’s still some cleaning up I have ta do in the kitchen.”
“I can help.” Otoya offers. He goes to stand and is almost immediately shut down when Karasu’s mother waves her hand in dismissal.
“Nonsense. You’ve already done so much.”
“But—“
“Sit down and relax, Eita.” She orders with a finality that has Otoya scrambling to sit back down, knees folded neatly beneath him and hands politely resting over his lap like nothing ever happened.
Across from him, Karasu’s wings shake with barely contained laughter.
Otoya patiently waits for Karasu’s mother to leave and counts to ten before lunging at his boyfriend with a vengeance. He catches him easily of course, and even has the audacity to chuckle when Otoya pokes and prods at him to stop.
“Fine then. Laugh all you want.” He huffs, sticking his tongue out in a show of immaturity that rivalled even Karasu’s kindergarten photos. “That’s not going to stop me from seeing itty bitty Tabito running around the playground in his uniform.”
Karasu groans. “Can we not?”
“And miss out on seeing the fondest memories of my boyfriend’s life?” Otoya teases, grabbing the photo album and laying it across both their laps. “Yeah, right.”
A sharp intake of breath is the only warning Otoya gets. He looks up, startled, to find a shadow cast over Karasu’s face.
Anxiety creeps up his spine. Had he said something wrong? Otoya knew he had a tendency of pissing people off without meaning to, but it felt different this time. Karasu looked genuinely bothered and despite how badly Otoya wanted to make him feel better, he couldn’t if he didn’t know what upset him in the first place.
It seemed like his boyfriend knew that too, glaring down at the photos laid out in front of him as he no doubt tried to articulate the right thoughts in his head.
“I wouldn’t exactly call them ‘fond’.” Karasu says finally, breaking that tense beat of silence. Blue eyes, dark and unfocused, pierce into faded film like they’ll somehow disintegrate if he stares hard enough.
“What do you mean, Tabi?” Otoya asks softly, leaning into him.
“Ya know what kids are like.” Karasu says, avoiding eye contact.
Otoya wasn’t so sure he did.
“Tell me.” He presses.
Karasu scoffs. “Rude. Bratty. Cruel. Didn’t ya ever, I don’t know, get pushed around and called names?”
Otoya shook his head. For as long as he could remember, he always mingled well with other kids. Sure, some of them were annoying, but he learned early on that if he just went with the flow and made funny faces when asked then he’d be invited to most, if not all, birthday parties.
It’s clearly not the answer Karasu was expecting, but he masks his surprise quickly with a sad smile and a gentle kiss to Otoya’s forehead.
“I guess that’s some consolation fer me then.” He murmurs, holding him close.
His reply only further tightens the knot coiling in Otoya’s stomach.
“Why? What do you mean?” He asks, hating the way his voice cracks at the seams. “Tabito, what did you go through?”
“Nothin’. It’s all in the past—“
“That doesn’t mean you’re not still hurting.” Otoya argues. It gives Karasu pause, and they remain locked in a silent staring match for a little longer.
Karasu swallows and looks away first.
“I was seven.” He says, so quietly that his words almost get lost in the wind. “I didn’t want my family ta know, so I snuck away ta the park ta teach myself how ta fly.”
Otoya makes a confused noise. “Why didn’t you want them to know?”
“Because it was embarrassing.” Karasu answers, frustration building. “My ma could fly when she was five. Yoriko did it when she was four. How could I call myself a shapeshifter if I couldn’t even do something so simple?”
“I didn’t want them ta see me fail repeatedly, so I tried practicin’ on my own.” He continued bitterly, the feathers closest to the base of his spine bristling in response to the memory. “I just kept jumpin’ off of branches hoping that it would be different this time around, and I’d fall flat on my face every single time. Pretty pathetic, if ya ask me.”
No it isn’t. Otoya thinks helplessly. He doesn’t voice it aloud though—not yet, anyway. This was something Karasu has desperately needed to get off his chest for years now. The least he could do was listen when he talked, no matter how much it hurt to hear every self-deprecating comment the older man made.
“And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse,” Karasu’s voice pitches higher, an undercurrent of pain bubbling just beneath the surface and threatening to spill over at any moment. “Some boys from school saw me transform. They saw me, and they—they cornered me when I was still struggling on the ground.”
Otoya’s heart sinks into his stomach.
“At first, it was just throwin’ rocks. That was fine. I could handle that. They already did that anyway when I was human.” Karasu chuckled humourlessly. “Why would it be any different now, when I was a dumb crow who couldn’t even fly away?”
“Tabito…” He whispers, fearing the worst.
Karasu turns to look at him, and Otoya only registers the tears streaming down his face when a shaky hand moves to wipe them away, loving and gentle even when they’ve had every reason not to be.
‘They tore my feathers out.” Karasu says quietly, and the air around them stills. “Not all, just enough ta hurt. And God, Eita, it hurt.”
Otoya, for all his speed and quick reflexes, can’t react fast enough to muffle the choked gasp that escapes past his lips. Instead, large, powerful wings beat him to it; encircling him and ushering him deeper into Karasu’s embrace. Just thinking about what happened to them once—what happened when Tabito was a child—only makes him cry harder into his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“I don’t understand.” He chokes out, trembling with unbridled rage. “Why would anybody do that? Why you?”
“That’s just the way life is. Things like this happen ta mediocre people.” Karasu replies, far too easily for Otoya’s liking. He glances up at him through red-rimmed eyes, knuckles white from where they remained fisted into his shirt.
“Do you really believe that?” Otoya asks him, blinking back tears. “That what they did to you was justified because, for someone so stupidly intelligent, you still can’t fathom how special you are?”
“I’m not special.” Karasu retorts. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place. I would’ve flown away—”
A hand on his chin forces him to stop talking, redirecting his gaze back down to meet shimmering green eyes.
“None of that was your fault, Tabito.” Otoya says with a fierce conviction. “You were hurt because some horrible, pathetic kids decided to be bullies and kick you when you were down. Nobody deserves that, especially not a child. You are so much more than what they put you through, so much more than them, and I—I wish you could see yourself through my eyes so you’d know how special you really are.” His words trail off into a plea, and he cups the older man’s cheek like that will somehow shield him away from all the horrors the world has to offer.
It doesn’t, of course, and it probably never will but it must count for something; because the last of Karasu’s defences finally crumble away and he’s looking at Otoya, blue eyes soft and unguarded, like he can’t quite believe he’s right there.
Like he’s finally hearing the words he’s always needed to hear.
Their fingers entwine. Karasu’s gaze hardly strays.
“Ya know,” He confesses quietly. “The day I landed on yer balcony, I held my breath thinkin’ ya were gonna be just like all the others.”
Otoya blinks at this, taken aback.
“I waited and waited for the other ball ta drop, thinkin’ that something was gonna have ta give eventually, but it never came.” Karasu smiles, a watery one. “I didn’t know back then, but ya never could’ve hurt me even if ya tried. God, Eita. Yer so f*cking perfect that sometimes I can’t believe yer mine.”
“Idiot.” Otoya sniffs, but he’s smiling too. “‘Perfect’ is too strong of a word. What if I can’t live up to your expectations?”
“No need ta worry about that, darling.” Karasu hums, pulling him impossibly closer to the tune of his heartbeat. He smiles, soft and genuine. “Yer already better than anything I could’ve ever hoped fer.”
°˖➴
Soon, their days spent at Osaka become just another date marked out on the calendar, and when they return home it’s to find the stray cat downstairs meowing impatiently for scraps. It’s like they never even left at all.
Karasu unpacks all of their baggage and none of his emotional ones. And that’s okay. Otoya doesn’t bring up his past either, secure in the knowledge that Karasu will confide in him again when he feels the need to. It hasn’t been an easy process—trying to heal a twenty year old wound usually never is—and it’s not like Karasu is suddenly a changed man. But he no longer walks around with a weight on his shoulders and, slowly but surely, he’s getting better at letting Otoya slip past his walls in times when comfort is needed.
Besides that, nothing else has really changed between them, and Otoya likes them just the way they are. Even if his “I love you”s do come more readily now, and he hugs Karasu just a little bit tighter after coming home from work and he’s almost always the last person to pull away from their kisses.
Karasu catches on to this, because of course he does. But he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, and if he did then the fond eye-rolls and forehead kisses sure were a weird way of conveying it.
(He does try to make Otoya help out with more of the chores though, which seriously sucked.)
It’s right as he’s in the midst of doing said chore when a series of small ‘tap’s coming from outside echoes throughout the living room and Otoya perks up at once, laundry forgotten. He crosses the room in a flash and opens up the balcony door just a crack, smiling down at the dishevelled ball of feathers that lands on his palm.
“Someone had a rough flight today.” He snickers, bringing the crow deeper into their home before Karasu can accidentally flash all of their neighbours.
Karasu lets out a menacing caw that quickly devolves into a squawk when Otoya bends down to kiss his tiny head.
A loud poof! sounds out across the room, and the next time Otoya blinks his eyes open he’s face-to-face with his very much human, very much naked boyfriend.
“I told ya already ta quit doing that.” Karasu scowls at him, cheeks pink and tufts of hair sticking out from their usual spiked prison. Otoya can’t recall the last time he’s seen the older man’s hair so tousled outside of their bedroom.
He whistles. “Woah, dude. Guess the hair gel lost the battle today, huh?” He reaches out a curious hand to tug at windswept locks but Karasu catches him by the wrist before he can get any closer. “And here I thought it was impossible for your hair to become any more of a crow’s nest than it already was.”
“Ya think yer so smart.” Karasu rolls his eyes.
“I do, actually.” Otoya agrees cheekily, hands beginning to wander down south.
“Well, I don’t wanna hear it. It was windy as hell outside.” Karasu grumbles, swatting his hands away without a second thought. “My wings are all messed up now.” He gestures over his shoulder with a grimace. Otoya follows his line of sight and cringes internally when he sees more ruffled feathers than he can count.
“That does look bad. Want me to help?”
The taller man scoffs. “As long as ya don’t try and massage me in weird places again.”
“That was one time.” He protests.
Karasu stares down at him, one brow raised. Otoya had to give it to his boyfriend for being able to make silent judgement feel so loud.
“Okay, so it was more than once.” Otoya relents. “Like, twice max—You know what, fine. So maybe I’ve done it every time. But can you blame me?” He gestures in the other man’s general direction like that somehow explained everything.
“I’m just a man, Tabito.” He says sagely, one hand over his chest like he’s about to pledge allegiance to the sanctity of Karasu’s abs or something.
“Yer an idiot, is what ya are.”
“An idiot who’s about to get very distracted if you don’t put on some pants soon.” Otoya winks, aiming a playful smack on his bare ass when he nudges past Karasu on his way back to the couch. He plops onto soft cushions and laughs at the indignant noise his boyfriend makes, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps leading to their bedroom.
When Karasu finally returns, he’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a matching scowl.
“Yer unbelievable.” He says as he sits down next to him, pinching his waist in retaliation. Otoya jumps a little at this, but he’s all smiles when he loops an arm around Karasu’s neck and pulls him closer.
“I’m sorry, Tabi.” He murmurs, enjoying the way shivers run down Karasu’s spine when his lips brush against sensitive skin. “I won’t do it again, promise.”
“…Just get on with it, will ya?” The older man grumbles, not half as unaffected as he pretends to be. Otoya decides to stop pushing his luck and actually do what he promised to do in the first place, no matter how much the image of a blushing Tabito sends wave after wave of dopamine flooding into his brain.
He positions himself behind ebony wings and rests his hands on broad shoulders, peering down at Karasu from above.
He tips his head, questioning. “Same as usual?”
Karasu nods. “Ya take the back, I’ll take the front.”
“Got it.”
They sink into a comfortable rhythm after that. Otoya tackles the unruly feathers Karasu can’t reach on his own, and Karasu preens the plumage closest to him with the sort of ease that betrays his years of experienced wing-having.
Although he’s gotten much better at the whole grooming thing, Otoya still prefers to take things slow. He may have a short attention span and a general disregard when it came to the finer details, but he wasn’t stupid enough to be careless with his own boyfriend’s wings. Especially after knowing what he knows now, he really didn’t mind putting in the extra effort if it meant each individual feather got treated with the rightful care it deserved.
“Is this okay?” He asks, and Karasu snorts.
“Ya don’t have to keep asking me every five minutes, ya know. I’ll tell ya if something feels weird.”
“Can’t help it.” Otoya replies simply, combing through the feathers closest to the base of his spine and fixing any crooked ones he finds. “Want you to feel safe.”
The feather resting in his hand twitches, and Otoya looks up in time to see Karasu’s throat bob.
“Hey, remember the first time ya helped me with my wings?” He asks suddenly, catching the shorter man off-guard.
Otoya shifts on his heels and huffs in annoyance. “Do we really have to bring that up?”
Karasu smirks. “I still remember how freaked out ya got when ya used too much force on accident. Had ya scared half ta death.”
“Dude. I thought your wings were going to fall off or something.”
“That makes no sense.” The corners of Karasu’s lip twitch upwards. “But ya looked adorable though, can’t deny that.”
Otoya’s brow rises on its own volition. “This is the first time I’m hearing this. Did I unlock some new fetish of yours, Tabito?” He asks teasingly, draping himself over the other man’s back to get a better vantage point of his face.
“Absolutely not.” Karasu deadpans. “Now get yer ass back to work.”
“Rude.” Otoya pouts. “I’m calling Okaa-san if you keep that up. I wonder how she’ll feel when she finds out you’re talking to me with that attitude? And using me for unpaid labour too.”
Blue eyes narrow in suspicion. “Ya wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Karasu thinks it over, grumbling something along the lines of ‘knew I never should’a left ya alone with ma’. Otoya opens his mouth, ready to make a joke about being the favourite son when chapped lips crash against his own and suddenly all thoughts about his boyfriend’s mum fly out the window.
It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but Otoya can work with that. Besides, Karasu’s hands on him made it significantly easier to forget about the slight pain in his neck he was getting from all that bending downwards.
“There.” Karasu announces when he finally pulls away, cheeks dusted a light pink. “Now will ya please help me?”
Hearing the word ‘please’ coming from his boyfriend shouldn’t have made Otoya’s heart pound as fast it did, but he chalks it up to nothing more than the bliss of their post-makeout afterglow and the dream-like state his thoughts were currently suspended in.
“See?” He beams, far more enthusiastic than anyone should have been after essentially being manipulated. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Karasu rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything, but he does fluff his feathers in anticipation while waiting for him to resume his original position.
Luckily, there isn’t a lot left to be done and Otoya is straightening out the last feather before he knows it. He sits back slightly to admire his handiwork, green eyes roaming over glossy black wings in an approving manner.
“I’m finished.” He hums, pressing a tender kiss onto the junction between strong shoulder blades and laughing lightly when Karasu jumps at the unexpected contact.
“Don’t just do that!” The older man splutters, turning to glare at him.
“My bad.” Otoya grins with a cheek that tells Karasu he can and will do it again. Instead of scolding him though, Karasu just sighs and takes hold of his hand.
“Thanks anyway.” He murmurs gently, wings fluttering as he leans in to give him a proper kiss. “Ya did a good job.”
Otoya’s heart skips a beat, less so because of the kiss and more so because of the praise. Karasu could be picky at best and downright impossible to satisfy at worst. Knowing that he was able to meet those ridiculously high standards sent an indescribable surge of happiness flowing through his veins, which he chose to express by crawling halfway onto his boyfriend’s lap and tangling their legs together.
“I always do a good job.” He preens, metaphorical tail wagging.
A snort. “Sure ya do.”
“Hey, I can take things seriously sometimes!”
“Can ya now?” Karasu arches a brow, and—Oh, he was totally just f*cking with him now. “When did this happen and why wasn’t I made aware of that?”
“Asshole.” Otoya shoves at him lightly. “You know I’m always serious when it comes to you.”
Surprise flickers across Karasu’s features for the briefest of moments before it channels itself into something softer. Framed against glowing orange hues, he looked almost vulnerable. As if the stone walls he’s spent a lifetime building up were finally crumbling away, washed out to sea under the weight of Eita’s gaze.
“Ya are, aren’t cha?” He asks, achingly quiet.
Otoya softens immeasurably. “You big dummy.” He murmurs, so utterly endeared by this one man he thinks he could explode from all the affection he felt towards him. He always thought loves like this only existed in fiction. “I wouldn’t still be here with you after three years if I wasn’t.”
“Makes sense.” Karasu replies hoarsely, shifting his gaze as he goes to clear his throat. “Hey, uh, ya wanna go out onto the balcony?”
The abrupt switch in topics is enough to give Otoya pause.
“I mean, I don’t mind…” He blinks. “But why though?”
“The sunset’s real pretty right now, don’t ya think? It’d be a shame not ta take a closer look.”
Otoya looks at him weirdly, not entirely convinced by his reasoning but getting up anyway.
“Whatever you say, dude.”
He had to admit though: the sunset was fire. Literally. Skyburst reds and vivid purples painted the skies as far as the eye could see. Otoya leans against the railing so he can really take it all in, a small sigh escaping his lips at the feeling of crisp autumn breeze against his skin.
Fleetingly, he wonders how many likes he could get if he posted the view onto his Instagram story and pretended like there was some deeper meaning attached to it than there actually was. People usually ate that sh*t up, right?
Nodding sagely to himself, he turns around to get the other man’s attention.
“Tabi? Can you get me my phon—”
The words die in his throat.
Karasu smiles and holds the velvet box higher. “Ya asked me once if crows mated for life.” He says in lieu of an explanation.
Otoya can’t help it; he laughs.
“That’s your opener? Really?” He barely manages to choke out, still caught up in between the overwhelming happiness bubbling in his chest and the shock of finding his boyfriend down on one knee.
His eyes begin to sting, and not because of the sharp chill in the air.
“Let me get ta the good part before ya start complaining, will ya?” Karasu huffs, unmistakably fond even when he rolls his eyes at him.
Otoya sniffles, smiling wetly. “Okay.”
At this Karasu sucks in a trembling breath, looking considerably more nervous than before.
“Truthfully, I wanted this ta be a grander proposal.” He confesses shakily. “I had the whole thing planned out: I’d take ya somewhere real nice, wine and dine ya, shower ya with presents—the whole nine yards. Yer so special, Eita, an’ I wanted ta give ya everything ya deserve an’ more.”
He swallows, sounding apologetic now. “Sorry we’re doing this here instead. I just—I couldn’t stop myself any longer. God, Eita. It was a nightmare tryin’ ta stop myself from proposing every time ya so much as looked my way. And then you’d go and say the most unbearably romantic things with the straightest face and I—” He falters, helpless. “How was I supposed to keep myself away when all I want ta do is spend the rest of my life with ya?”
“Are you kidding?” Otoya laughs, breathless now as tears spring to his eyes. “Tabito, I would marry you even if you proposed to me with a ring pop in a McDonald’s parking lot at 3am.”
Karasu blinks at this new revelation.
“I didn’t know yer standards were so low.”
“They’re not.” Otoya’s voice cracks. “I just love you.”
“…Oh.” Karasu inhales sharply. He pauses to tip his head back, furiously blinking back any of the tears that threatened to fall.
“See?” He exclaims after a moment, sounding annoyed but not really at the same time. “This is what I mean! Ya keep driving me insane every single time ya open yer mouth! I can't catch a goddamn break, Eita.”
Otoya’s grin threatens to split his face. “Sorry about that, Tabi.” He chuckles softly, covering his mouth behind a shaky hand. “Guess I’m just full of surprises. Although, you should probably get on with it before we both end up sobbing and embarrassing ourselves out here. Can’t give the neighbours too much free entertainment.”
“Jesus Christ, alright.” Karasu mutters under his breath, adjusting his stance so he can raise the box higher. Once he’s composed himself, he looks deep into emerald green eyes and Otoya is immediately struck with an intense, urgent sense of longing.
“I love ya, Otoya Eita.” Karasu smiles, every bit as angelic as the wings spread out like a halo behind him. “I love ya so, so much. Ya saved my life, and I’m not just talkin’ about the day ya found me. Because every moment of every single day that I spend with ya, ya keep giving me new reasons to live.” He holds the ring up so it catches the light and sparkles, not even half as bright as those dark blue eyes watching him adoringly. “Eita, would ya make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
Otoya has never been more sure of anything in his life.
“Yes.” He sobs, diving straight into strong arms and nearly toppling them both over. Their lips crash together in a fierce and lingering kiss and Otoya swears he sees sparks flying behind his lids when Karasu—his fiancé, pulls him closer and closer.
He almost never wants to let go—oxygen be damned—but Karasu starts slipping the ring onto his finger and he’s swiftly reminded of the fact that he hasn’t actually gotten a good look at it yet.
Sniffling to himself, he pulls away slightly and relishes in the feeling of a warm hand coming up to wipe away his tears, allowing him to take in his engagement ring without his vision blurred.
Shiny is the first thing that pops into his mind. Beautiful too, with its white gold band and gorgeous yet understated emerald as its centrepiece. He traces a finger across the smaller diamonds studded along the ring, admiring the way they glimmered beneath the fading rays of sunlight.
“Do ya like it?” Karasu asks, cradling his cheek with a gentleness that could make grown men weep. (Which, it has. Otoya’s red-rimmed eyes could attest to that.)
He nods fervently, gaze never leaving the ring.
“Is this—?”
“No. I did not pick this one off the ground.” Karasu sighs, pressing an exasperated kiss onto his forehead. Otoya just tilts his head up to recapture those lips in a languid kiss of his own, sighing happily when the older man returns it with equal fervour.
When they break apart, Otoya is gazing up at him with stars in his eyes. “I love you, Tabito.” He says earnestly, clutching at Karasu’s sleeve. “You’re it for me. Nobody else. I love you, I love you, I love you. I can’t wait to be with you forever.”
Karasu melts at his words, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“An’ aren’t I just the luckiest man in the world?” He marvels quietly.
“You are.” Otoya beams up at him. “I just have one question.”
“What is it?”
Green eyes twinkle mischievously.
“Do we get married on this balcony too?”
