sheffiesharpe (sheffiesharpe) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-03-26 15:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: sheffiesharpe, f: persona 3, march 19, p: akihiko/junpei |
"Something to Sleep On," Persona 3 (Akihiko/Junpei)
Title: Something to Sleep On
Author: sheffiesharpe
Fandom: Persona 3
Pairing: Akihiko/Junpei
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1380
Prompt: March 19 - Persona 3, Akihiko/Junpei - intentional cruelty - The look on his face when he hurts is the best.
A/N: Another epic fail for lateness.
The snakes get to him before Mitsuru’s Persona can chill them into torpor, before they all pile on and end the fight, and the sick pink haze of Charm wraps around his body. Akihiko hates this more than anything—to see himself act and be unable to stop it, unable to want to stop, though he knows—the dull gray of his bladed gloves arcs down toward Junpei’s face and there is nothing, nothing he can do to hold this back, not like this, though he tries, wants Junpei to get up, to dodge, to roll, but he’s down, off-balance, and Akihiko can’t even close his eyes—
The wash of Dis-Charm hits like ice over the unnatural warmth of snake-magic even as he’s diving at Junpei, and he still can’t stop, but he can flex his wrist enough—where the right blades would have cut at Junpei’s eyes, the weight of his forearm catches Junpei across the face, sends him sprawling over the floor. Behind him, Minato and Mitsuru cut down the last of the snakes, and Akihiko crouches beside Junpei, his Bladefists on the floor beside him, medical powder already in his hand.
“You okay?” They all made an agreement to stop apologizing for things done under Charm—just fix the other person up and get on to the next Shadow. But the fixing up part, that’s important, and Akihiko can’t get used to the loss of control.
Junpei picks himself up slowly, shaking his head—not like he’s saying no, but like something got rattled and only more rattling will fix it. He braces with his palms on the floor, head hanging between his arms, until Akihiko touches his elbow. Then Junpei turns, and Akihiko can see that his eyes look wet, the whole side of his face red and starting to swell already.
“Yeah,” Junpei says, but his shoulders heave, and he is slower still to sit up, to look at Akihiko square. When he does—he’s not crying, but maybe close, and that’s not so strange for Junpei; all emotions are close to the surface with him, but he manages and Akihiko’s not going to give him a hard time about it. And he looks at Akihiko, looks at his discarded gloves, looks at Akihiko’s hands so long, his eyes crinkling against the ache, his teeth set against his lip; something else warm and strange coils in Aki’s stomach and he’s reaching before he can stop. He puts his fingers on the purpling flesh of Junpei’s cheek and presses. It resists a little, like a bad bruise does. Akihiko’s no stranger to those on his own face, but there’s something different in this, and Junpei hisses when he does it again, his eyes squeezing shut, but he’s not pulling away. He’s holding still.
“Iori, are you hurt?” Mitsuru’s voice cuts like her fleuret. “Akihiko—”
“Nah, I’m good.” Junpei ducks away from Akihiko’s hand, and he’s standing, slipping the medical powder Akihiko had offered into his pocket, his katana at his side, the usual Junpei tone back but the expression still pained, and he’s still watching Akihiko. Watches him slip the Bladefists back on, tighten the straps. He never takes the medicine, and his cheek turns darker and swells until Mitsuru and Akihiko have to heal them all after they end up with half a dozen Mayas on their heels.
* * *
Akihiko doesn’t sleep when they go back to the dorm. He tries, but every time he closes his eyes, he can see Junpei closing his, letting Akihiko touch the bruise even though he knows it hurt, even though he could see it hurting Junpei, pain wetting the dark fringe of his eyelashes. He thinks about the convenience store, when he’d first gotten there, how Junpei had cried, the sheer panic—no, that was different. Then, he was only scared, not hurt. Tonight, when Akihiko had touched him, he hadn’t looked scared at all. Even though it did hurt. Even though Akihiko knew he was hurting him. Akihiko rolls onto his side, watches his door in the darkness, the dim glow of the hallway light beneath it. Even though. No. Because. Because. He traps his hands between his knees, the pressure of fabric and muscle and bone doing nothing to distract him, doing nothing to slow the flow of blood to his groin, the swell—like Junpei’s cheek—
A shadow flickers at the bottom of the door, disrupting the light, the shade of feet standing there for a moment, then moving on. Akihiko sits up, everything tensing. Around the corner, the vending machine hums, the cold kachunk of dispensing—Junpei. It has to be. No one else gets a soda at four a.m. on a school night.
The floor is cold under his feet, but Akihiko doesn’t bother finding socks or a shirt. Only slips into the hallway, doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to wake Minato. He’s not even sure if he wants Junpei to see him. He only knows he wants to see Junpei.
Junpei is sitting at the top of the steps, still wearing his hat even though he’s only got his boxers on, and there are staggered bruises laddering one side of his back. That’s right—he’d been knocked into one of the columns at the very end of the night, slapped with Garu, but he’d said he was fine. When he lifts the can to drink, the pattern is more noticeable along his ribs, a little swollen, tending toward purple in two places—the decorative cornering some of them have. Akihiko’s mind is made up.
“You’re going to be tired later.” He walks closer, sits on the step.
Junpei startles, a little splash of orange MadBull on his chin, dripping onto his boxers. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, covers the wet spot with one hand and the can resting in his lap. He shrugs. “Not tired now. Can always sneak a nap in Edogawa’s class anyway.” And then he tugs his hat lower over his eyes. “Sorry, Senpai.” When he brings his hand down, he slides it across his cheek, where the bruise had been.
Akihiko shrugs back. He’s looking at Junpei’s ribs, doesn’t care if Junpei sleeps through the kooky nurse’s class. “You said you were fine.”
Junpei looks where he’s looking, lifts his left arm out of the way and twists a little toward the hallway light. “Eh,” he says, and there’s a wince in how he turns. “It wasn’t worth bothering anyone about.” He glances down, glances away.
“You sure?” And he shouldn’t, not if Junpei says he’s okay, not if Junpei looks okay, seems to be okay, but he reaches out anyway, fingertips drawn to the darkest point. When his fingers touch, Junpei sucks in a breath, and when Akihiko pushes, Junpei holds it.
He knows this is only a bruise, that if anything were cracked, they’d both know it, and so there’s no reason run his fingers over everything, to test and prod the reddened skin. No reason at all. Except Junpei’s stillness, how he’s forgotten his soda, the way his eyes are almost shut and his teeth grit against the pain. Akihiko pushes until there’s sound—the smallest puff of exhale between Junpei’s teeth—then strokes his fingers over the darkening bruise. Junpei opens his eyes, and he’s not moving, not at all, until he shifts closer. The soda can tips against Junpei’s bare thigh, where his boxers are creeping up, and Junpei kind of yelps, snatches the can again, jostles another spatter of liquid over his leg. He puts his mouth on the rim, slurps at what’s threatening to spill from there.
Akihiko pulls his hand back, hunches a little to cover his crotch, and Junpei’s face goes red. “S-sorry,” he says. He puts his drink to one side, tilts his body toward Akihiko again.
He’s asking. He’s not hiding himself, his reaction. Akihiko feels himself flush, his whole body wanting what Junpei’s is saying he could take, could have, could do. And Akihiko straightens, but reaches instead to put his fingers on Junpei’s cheekbone, where the bruise is entirely gone. “Get some rest,” he says, and nudges him hard enough to turn his face before standing and walking back to his room. This is something he’s pretty certain he should sleep on, though sleep will not come soon.