| [Nov. 2nd, 2013|03:59 am] |
Raidou thought about it. “Other than feeling like I’ve been beaten with small sledgehammers? Yeah, I’m good.”
There was still paperwork to do, and mistakes he needed to go over so he’d never do them again, but his team was safe and home, and despite trying hard, none of them had actually lost a limb, or a head. In fact, Team Six’s first mission had been a success.
And at least an A-rank, thank you, Intel.
“Y’mean a really big sledgehammer,” Katsuko said drowsily, settling back. “In the shape of a demon queen. Spraying acid onto your face. Don’t do dumb shit like that again, okay?”
“In my defence, you had just stabbed her in the eyes,” Raidou said.
“You think that would’ve made it easier to dodge,” she said. “What with her reduced depth perception and all.”
“I can make you sleep on the floor,” he said.
“I was worried,” she said, derailing their usual back-and-forth into unexpectedly sincere terrain.
Raidou paused. “It’s ANBU, Katsuko,” he said quietly.
Her shoulders hunched. “Don’t have to tell me that,” she said, grouchy. “That’s why I stabbed more eyes instead of freaking out.”
But then she’d fallen.
Carefully, he dropped his hand to her shoulder, letting his fingers curl over the sharp edge of her collarbone, thumb resting on the curve that sloped down from her neck. “I didn’t thank you for that, did I?” he said. “We couldn’t have won that fight without you.”
She blinked once. He couldn’t tell whether that was genuine surprise, or haven’t we already established that I’m awesome?
“Point is, it’s my job to worry,” Raidou said. “It’s your job to kick ass and take names, which you do better than most. So let me do mine, and you do yours, and I’ll promise not to take any more acid in the face, okay?”
That felt just enough like tempting fate that he slipped his free hand over the edge of the bed and silently tapped the wood frame twice.
Katsuko wasn’t fooled; she reached across and knocked twice on his skull. “Sure, taichou,” she said gently, like he needed to be coddled.
He’d probably deserved that.
“You’re missing the movie,” he said.
She laughed softly and returned to the television, settling back in against him like he was her favorite armchair. He snagged a pillow, pulling it under his head, and got comfortable—or at least as comfortable as overtaxed muscles would allow. He meant to watch the movie and stay awake until Katsuko was asleep, so he could clear the dishes and avoid a food-based disaster. But he found himself drifting.
The last thing he felt was Katsuko’s hand absently petting his knee, then he slipped under. |
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