Yashiki was leaning against the window sill, scanning through a pile of documents related to cases. When he’d accepted Mashita’s offer of working on cases with him, he hadn’t quite realized just how many spiritual ones he’d be dealing with.
Some, of course, were false alarms; people being unaware of their new upstairs neighbors and assuming ghosts, or faulty wiring causing brand new light bulbs to flicker. Many were genuine spirits, however, and Mashita refused to try and exorcise them without Yashiki- with good reason.
Though Mary and her twisted idea of a game were terrible memories, Yashiki found himself looking back fondly on his excursions with Mashita through H Elementary and H Forest. Sure, they were all near-death experiences, and Yashiki certainly would not choose to re-fight those spirits, but there was something about the gruff detective’s presence that almost made the entire experience worth it.
He tried to turn his attention back to the paper in his hands, but instead Yashiki’s eyes kept wandering over the tops of the files and to Mashita, who sat across the room at his desk. His brow was deeply furrowed as he studied the stacks of reports and investigation notes that cluttered the desktop, and Yashiki really couldn’t help staring.
“You need something?” Mashita asked without looking up. “I can feel your dumb ass trying to look into my soul, or whatever.”
Yashiki shook his head. “No, just thinking,” he tried to play it off, but Mashita had definitely caught him staring, and it was very hard to come back from that. “This case is a tough one.”
Mashita grunted in response, still more occupied by his research than his partner across the room.
A few more minutes of silence passed. They were nearly unbearable to Yashiki- while the detective was certainly rough around the edges, he did quite like Mashita’s company and conversation. Before he could say anything, Mashita abruptly stood up.
“Making coffee,” he said, making his way to the counter in the back of the room. “Want any?”
“I have never in my life said no to coffee, and I certainly don’t intend to start now.”
Mashita barked out a laugh as he set up the machine. “You know, not sleeping will kill you one day,” he turned to face Yashiki, leaning against the counter.
Now it was Yashiki’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, and so will your cigarettes,” he set the papers down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seems we’re both doomed to an early death, Mashita.”
“Seems that way.”
A few minutes later, the machine gave a sharp beep, indicating that the coffee was finished brewing. Mashita poured two cups, handing one over. As he leaned on the edge of his desk, Yashiki once again found himself staring at him, somewhat entranced by the way he stood with a coffee mug in hand, vacantly staring off into space.
“Yashiki, what the hell are you staring so much for?” he asked, still not making eye contact. “It’s gross.”
“You’re not even looking at me,” Yashiki protested, shifting on the window sill. “I’m not staring at you, I’m just-“
“Bull shit ,” he finally turned his gaze to Yashiki. “I’m not stupid, and you know it. Why the fuck are you staring at me?”
Yashiki paused, taking another drink from his mug. He was trying to find a way to say it, but-
“You’ll call me a creep if I tell you,” was all he managed. And it was the truth.
Mashita laughed again, throwing his head back. “Oh, so it’s like that,” he set down his empty mug before turning back to Yashiki. “So you’re just gonna stare and not do anything about it?”
Yashiki opened his mouth to reply, but had no words. Mashita was right, of course, but now- was it an invitation?
He pushed up from the window sill, making his way to the counter where Mashita had been standing. For a moment, he debated just getting more coffee and letting Mashita make a move, but instead set down the mug on the counter.
He could see Mashita smirking from the corner of his eye; before the other man could react, Yashiki took the four steps from the counter to his desk, pulling Mashita to him by the tie.
“This what you meant?”
Yashiki leaned into him, pressing his lips to Mashita’s. It was slow and delicate, much unlike the man he was evidently so enamored with. He swore he could feel Mashita’s face heating up against his, and when he pulled away, he suppressed a chuckle at just how red the other man had gotten.
“Bold for your dumbass,” Mashita said. “What is that face for?”
Yashiki’s face broke out into a wide grin as he began to laugh. “Y-your face is very, very red,” he said, which only made Mashita redder.
“I- well, it’s warm in here,” he sputtered, pointedly looking away. The air conditioner hummed audibly in the background.
“I didn’t think you were one to wear any kind of emotion on your face, let alone blush, ” Yashiki brought a hand up to Mashita’s face, and was almost surprised that he didn’t flinch at the touch. “Honestly, it’s cute.”
Mashita snapped his gaze back to Yashiki, eyes wide. “I- I swear to god, you’re disgusting,” he said, face twitching. “If you ever say that around anyone else, I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, but I’m allowed to say it, then?” Yashiki raised an eyebrow, having expected the term to be completely vetoed.
“Can you- can you maybe shut the fuck up and just-” this time, Mashita grabbed his face and kissed him, much more roughly than the one before.
Ah, well, two can play at that game, Yashiki thought, then pushed back into him, grabbing onto his hips. Mashita slid back onto his desk, inadvertently knocking the neat stacks of paper and the empty mug onto the floor.
“Your fault,” Mashita mumbled into his lips, clearly trying (and not really succeeding) to sound annoyed.
“Mm,” he responded, trailing his lips against Mashita’s jawline. “I’ll clean it up.”
He planted kisses down the side of his neck and to his collarbone, gently nipping at the skin there. Mashita hissed into his ear, gripping at his shirt.
“Yashiki- Kazuo,” he managed, looking into Yashiki’s eyes. “Lock the damn door.”
Yashiki laughed again as he stood up. “Whatever you say, Satoru.”