fic: Golden
Jan. 3rd, 2023 01:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Golden
Series: Death Mark
Character/pairing: Yashiki/Mashita
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mashita gets sick during Golden Week.
Word count:1,955
Author's note:
Post game. Spoilers. Established relationship.
Mashita had his head resting against his palms. He leaned forward on the desk. They'd turned a spare guest bedroom into a makeshift office. Yashiki had brouht in filing cabinets in the side, and a cork board filled with pinned newspapers from potential cases. Papers were all about him on the desk, and on the floor too. New prints, hints, and the next spirits to have to be taken care of.
"Are you hungover?"
Mashita didn't even look up.
"Didn't drink a drop last night."
Mashita finally let his hands down.
Mashita was more flushed than usual. Yashiki had seen this plenty. Enough that he'd started to look at infomercial hangover cures, to back alley cures. He'd exhausted them all. Mashita would outright refuse plenty of them.
Yashiki had weeded out the ones that didn't work. Had gotten it down to a science.
"Come here," Yashiki said softly.
Mashita glared. "What do you want?"
But it was a testament to all they'd been through that he rose up, and didn't complain more than that. Mashita rose up from his seat, a little unsteady.
Yashiki leaned in, until they were forehead to forehead. He pressed his palm to Mashita's forehead.
"You're feverish."
Mashita's eyes closed. He shuddered, a little. A chill? Was he to the point of shivering, now?
Which drinking too much didn't do. At least unless the alcohol was haunted. Which Yashiki hadn't encountered yet, but when it came to spirits, anything was possible.
"I caught somebody's cold. That's all," Mashita said.
He glanced away, and dug into his coat for something.
Now, was it a symptom of spirits, or just a cold? Yashiki couldn't tell. But none of the amulets or talismans were reacting. In his line of work, he'd gone through them all. The sorts of charms blessed by priests, and the infomercial, useless glass charms they called amulets.
Yashiki tried to focus. He couldn't sense the feel of any spirits or influence on Mashita. Nothing but the haze of cigarette smoke.
"I don't think it's a curse. Just a cold then. No wonder. You were out in the rain with me for hours on that last case."
"I did what I had to," Mashita said. "We got paid, didn't we?"
Mashita broke off into a coughing fit.
"You should get to bed."
"I'm a damned adult. I'll keep working through it."
"We haven't had a call in days," Yashiki said.
But, Mashita was stubborn. There was no telling him anything. Yashiki was well used to this by now.
What he pulled out of his coat was a blue disposable mask. The air was cold today, even in the mansion.
"Not even I want to pass this damned cold on," Mashita muttered.
And he wore his mask, and looked through the rumors and eyewitnesses accounts they'd gathered, until he brought it down to his chin only to put a cigarette in his mouth and light it up.
"You shouldn't smoke when you're like this."
"You nag like a wife," Mashita said.
But, he stubbed out the cigarette on the glass ashtray that was placed on the mess of the desk.
"I'll get some groceries," Yashiki said.
Mashita snorted. "Good luck with that. Everything out here is shuttered up. You'd think they'd want tourists."
The mansion was beyond city limits. Deep into the rural areas where superstitions held thrall over the people. Yashiki has seen enough spirits--and been cursed by them--to know superstitions had their place.
He kept blesssed charms with him. He salted the corners of the mansion. He knew his way around a sealing circle. His finger were all too often dusty with chalk. And not for the blackboard.
"This land isn't a tourist hot spot for a reason."
"No wonder. The only thing you get here is cursed by all the spirits you bring home with you," Mashita said.
And yet, Mashita came back every time. He never drew back from the potential of getting cursed when it came to sticking around with Yashiki.
*
The people near the mansion kept to themselves on Golden Week. But, he found enough to fill up the refrigerator several miles out. Even if the take out he got would be cold, and Mashita would complain.
He settled for instant. At least it would be hot, even if it was just microwaved. Yashiki carried the few bags in, and checked in on his partner.
"Any phone calls while I was gone?" Yashiki said.
The dark circles under his eyes were even darker now.
"It's Golden Week. Spirits can fuck right off," Mashita said.
Yashiki was half surprised Mashita hasn't gotten them in trouble for some kind of blasphemy. Yashiki had plenty of respect for the spirit realm, having lost his memory, his family, and almost lost his life by an old cursed doll.
Mashita would be willing to flip off anything, even a god. There is so much coiled rage in his small frame.
Mashita had dressed down for once. His suit jacket left on a chair, slightly wrinkled. Curled up on the couch and shifting through foreign infomercial ads. His dark eyes were hooded, and dark.
His plans of keeping on working were cast aside with nothing to do for the week. And in his current state, he'd make a mess of the filing even more than usual.
It was easier to keep Mashita around the mansion. Or so the excuse that came up. Because Mashita was prickly about these things. He reacted to intimacy with lashing out, harsh words. He kissed with teeth.
"I've got dinner," Yashiki said.
"Instant ramen? Are you trying to kill me?"
"We didn't stock up before Golden Week. Many of the stores are closed. And the lines for the restaurants are long. You want cold take out microwaved?"
Mashita let out a growl. Usually they ate out. Mashita wasn't exactly the type to remember to stock up, and Yashiki threw himself into cases. Which usually resulted in them finding the last restaurant open. Sometimes they would end up eating at 3AM, exhausted from tracking down spirits.
Too busy on the last case. And besides, he can't just make a to-do list and ask Mashita to go buy things. He'll guaranteed fight at least one person in the parking lot and get them banned from another establishment.
At this rate, someone would have to take pity on them and bring groceries to keep them from. The teenagers he worked with on the last case were in college now. Too busy to take their cameras around and fuss about some old men.
"Fine. Hand it over, I'm famished."
Yashiki got under the covers too.
Mashita glowered at him.
"Are you a damned fool? You'll catch my cold."
"I probably already will, considering," Yashiki said pointedly.
Before Mashita's symptoms got worse, they'd kissed, and fucked a few times. The gap in cases to solve meant more time alone. More time alone had them stumbling towards the bedroom, plenty of times. More than once, they didn't make it to the bed. It was only a matter of time before he was down too.
Mashita sneered. "You really want me as your nursemaid?"
"I almost died due to Mary. I'll probably survive you," Yashiki said.
"You sure you want to take those chances?" Mashita said dryly.
"I've survived worse odds," Yashiki said.
Yashiki brought medicine, too. Everything from little pills which dissolved in water and made it frothy and taste like a mixed drink. Faintly citrusy, with a bite and bitter aftertaste.
With faint muttering, Mashita drank it all down.
"Are you feeling any better?"
"I feel like the dead."
"Trust me, it could be worse," Yashiki said.
Nobody knew how death felt as closely as Yashiki, after all.
"Keep bringing me shitty food like this, and I'll curse you when I die from malnutrition," Mashita said.
"One meal won't kill you," Mashita said.
"I'd hang around if I died. You wouldn't be able to get rid of me, even if you tried. I'd haunt this damned place until you joined me."
And it was kind of comforting. Well past until death due us part.. Mashita would be waiting on him, and complaining well after death.
Yashiki got under the covers and watched infomercials from another country until they both passed out on the couch, like older men than they were. They woke up around 3AM, groggy with the blaring noise and light of the television as the only light in the room.
Yashiki turned off the light and they ended up in bed. Mashita let out a soft sigh and curled up against him. And they fell asleep together again--at least until Mashita's coughing woke him up.
Yashiki padded to the kitchen and made some tea for them both, with throat drops to soothe Mashita's throat. They didn't get back to bed until about 4AM.
*
Days later, Yashiki found himself feverish. He checked for marks from spirits, as he always did. But there was no haze, no signs of a curse.
There was nothing on television. No calls to be heard. No news was good news. Even the spirits took Golden Week off.
"Told you that you'd catch my cold," Mashita said smugly.
"It was only a matter of time," Yashiki said.
Mashita got out of bed. Got dressed up again in a suit. Faintly rumpled, but he wore it well. Yashiki admired his partner. He was handsome in a rumpled way. Even fully dressed, there was a wildness in his dark eyes. Like he might lash out or strike at any moment.
"I'll be back soon enough. Don't get eaten by spirits when I'm gone."
"I'd taste pretty bad now."
He wasn't in the best state. Feverish, unshaven, unshowered. His whole body ached and burned like he'd been marked by the Death Mark again. Except this time, it was just his body fighting off some invaders. Some virus that snuck in unannounced.
Mashita smirked. "Good. The last thing I want to do is share you with the spirits."
A few hours, Mashita returned. Yashiki had nodded off in bed, still in sweatpants and some infomercial playing in the background on the television.
Mashita brought food. More ramen for them to eat in bed. This time not instant, at least.
"So you're repaying the favor."
"You like pork flavor," he said.
"You're right."
"No surprise there," Mashita said.
No calls, no suspicious deaths. Good, they could use a rest. Even if it means they spent it being sick.
"Some damned way to spend a vacation," Mashita said.
And there was no one he'd rather spend it with his partner. This foul-mouthed, tempestuous guy.
They half-watched the infomercial. Yashiki reached out to take Mashita's hand. Mashita squeezed back.
"You're going to have to pay me back for all were missing out on this," Mashita said.
"Of course I'll reimburse you for groceries," Yashiki said.
"I don't mean the damned groceries," Mashita said.
Yashiki looked at him curiously. There was a faint hint of a blush that wasn't from a fever. Mashita was never very good at expressing his feelings. Romantic feelings, that was. Even though they'd been together for some time. He was quite good at expressing anger. But, love? That was another thing entirely.
Mashita would blush sometimes, and then get angry that he reacted and lose it. Usually it was when he was trying to show some sort of affection. It was part of his charm, really.
"Oh, I see. I'll pay you back double."
If Yashiki kissed Mashita now, he'd probably cough in his face. So, he curled up on the couch and laid against his partner. Mashita shifted enough to better accommodate him, and rested his arm about him.
"You're not as bad a nursemaid as you said," Yashiki said.
"Don't tell anyone. You'll ruin my reputation," Mashita said.
Yashiki chuckled. They pulled the covers up, and were lulled by the sound of the television.
Series: Death Mark
Character/pairing: Yashiki/Mashita
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mashita gets sick during Golden Week.
Word count:1,955
Author's note:
Post game. Spoilers. Established relationship.
Mashita had his head resting against his palms. He leaned forward on the desk. They'd turned a spare guest bedroom into a makeshift office. Yashiki had brouht in filing cabinets in the side, and a cork board filled with pinned newspapers from potential cases. Papers were all about him on the desk, and on the floor too. New prints, hints, and the next spirits to have to be taken care of.
"Are you hungover?"
Mashita didn't even look up.
"Didn't drink a drop last night."
Mashita finally let his hands down.
Mashita was more flushed than usual. Yashiki had seen this plenty. Enough that he'd started to look at infomercial hangover cures, to back alley cures. He'd exhausted them all. Mashita would outright refuse plenty of them.
Yashiki had weeded out the ones that didn't work. Had gotten it down to a science.
"Come here," Yashiki said softly.
Mashita glared. "What do you want?"
But it was a testament to all they'd been through that he rose up, and didn't complain more than that. Mashita rose up from his seat, a little unsteady.
Yashiki leaned in, until they were forehead to forehead. He pressed his palm to Mashita's forehead.
"You're feverish."
Mashita's eyes closed. He shuddered, a little. A chill? Was he to the point of shivering, now?
Which drinking too much didn't do. At least unless the alcohol was haunted. Which Yashiki hadn't encountered yet, but when it came to spirits, anything was possible.
"I caught somebody's cold. That's all," Mashita said.
He glanced away, and dug into his coat for something.
Now, was it a symptom of spirits, or just a cold? Yashiki couldn't tell. But none of the amulets or talismans were reacting. In his line of work, he'd gone through them all. The sorts of charms blessed by priests, and the infomercial, useless glass charms they called amulets.
Yashiki tried to focus. He couldn't sense the feel of any spirits or influence on Mashita. Nothing but the haze of cigarette smoke.
"I don't think it's a curse. Just a cold then. No wonder. You were out in the rain with me for hours on that last case."
"I did what I had to," Mashita said. "We got paid, didn't we?"
Mashita broke off into a coughing fit.
"You should get to bed."
"I'm a damned adult. I'll keep working through it."
"We haven't had a call in days," Yashiki said.
But, Mashita was stubborn. There was no telling him anything. Yashiki was well used to this by now.
What he pulled out of his coat was a blue disposable mask. The air was cold today, even in the mansion.
"Not even I want to pass this damned cold on," Mashita muttered.
And he wore his mask, and looked through the rumors and eyewitnesses accounts they'd gathered, until he brought it down to his chin only to put a cigarette in his mouth and light it up.
"You shouldn't smoke when you're like this."
"You nag like a wife," Mashita said.
But, he stubbed out the cigarette on the glass ashtray that was placed on the mess of the desk.
"I'll get some groceries," Yashiki said.
Mashita snorted. "Good luck with that. Everything out here is shuttered up. You'd think they'd want tourists."
The mansion was beyond city limits. Deep into the rural areas where superstitions held thrall over the people. Yashiki has seen enough spirits--and been cursed by them--to know superstitions had their place.
He kept blesssed charms with him. He salted the corners of the mansion. He knew his way around a sealing circle. His finger were all too often dusty with chalk. And not for the blackboard.
"This land isn't a tourist hot spot for a reason."
"No wonder. The only thing you get here is cursed by all the spirits you bring home with you," Mashita said.
And yet, Mashita came back every time. He never drew back from the potential of getting cursed when it came to sticking around with Yashiki.
*
The people near the mansion kept to themselves on Golden Week. But, he found enough to fill up the refrigerator several miles out. Even if the take out he got would be cold, and Mashita would complain.
He settled for instant. At least it would be hot, even if it was just microwaved. Yashiki carried the few bags in, and checked in on his partner.
"Any phone calls while I was gone?" Yashiki said.
The dark circles under his eyes were even darker now.
"It's Golden Week. Spirits can fuck right off," Mashita said.
Yashiki was half surprised Mashita hasn't gotten them in trouble for some kind of blasphemy. Yashiki had plenty of respect for the spirit realm, having lost his memory, his family, and almost lost his life by an old cursed doll.
Mashita would be willing to flip off anything, even a god. There is so much coiled rage in his small frame.
Mashita had dressed down for once. His suit jacket left on a chair, slightly wrinkled. Curled up on the couch and shifting through foreign infomercial ads. His dark eyes were hooded, and dark.
His plans of keeping on working were cast aside with nothing to do for the week. And in his current state, he'd make a mess of the filing even more than usual.
It was easier to keep Mashita around the mansion. Or so the excuse that came up. Because Mashita was prickly about these things. He reacted to intimacy with lashing out, harsh words. He kissed with teeth.
"I've got dinner," Yashiki said.
"Instant ramen? Are you trying to kill me?"
"We didn't stock up before Golden Week. Many of the stores are closed. And the lines for the restaurants are long. You want cold take out microwaved?"
Mashita let out a growl. Usually they ate out. Mashita wasn't exactly the type to remember to stock up, and Yashiki threw himself into cases. Which usually resulted in them finding the last restaurant open. Sometimes they would end up eating at 3AM, exhausted from tracking down spirits.
Too busy on the last case. And besides, he can't just make a to-do list and ask Mashita to go buy things. He'll guaranteed fight at least one person in the parking lot and get them banned from another establishment.
At this rate, someone would have to take pity on them and bring groceries to keep them from. The teenagers he worked with on the last case were in college now. Too busy to take their cameras around and fuss about some old men.
"Fine. Hand it over, I'm famished."
Yashiki got under the covers too.
Mashita glowered at him.
"Are you a damned fool? You'll catch my cold."
"I probably already will, considering," Yashiki said pointedly.
Before Mashita's symptoms got worse, they'd kissed, and fucked a few times. The gap in cases to solve meant more time alone. More time alone had them stumbling towards the bedroom, plenty of times. More than once, they didn't make it to the bed. It was only a matter of time before he was down too.
Mashita sneered. "You really want me as your nursemaid?"
"I almost died due to Mary. I'll probably survive you," Yashiki said.
"You sure you want to take those chances?" Mashita said dryly.
"I've survived worse odds," Yashiki said.
Yashiki brought medicine, too. Everything from little pills which dissolved in water and made it frothy and taste like a mixed drink. Faintly citrusy, with a bite and bitter aftertaste.
With faint muttering, Mashita drank it all down.
"Are you feeling any better?"
"I feel like the dead."
"Trust me, it could be worse," Yashiki said.
Nobody knew how death felt as closely as Yashiki, after all.
"Keep bringing me shitty food like this, and I'll curse you when I die from malnutrition," Mashita said.
"One meal won't kill you," Mashita said.
"I'd hang around if I died. You wouldn't be able to get rid of me, even if you tried. I'd haunt this damned place until you joined me."
And it was kind of comforting. Well past until death due us part.. Mashita would be waiting on him, and complaining well after death.
Yashiki got under the covers and watched infomercials from another country until they both passed out on the couch, like older men than they were. They woke up around 3AM, groggy with the blaring noise and light of the television as the only light in the room.
Yashiki turned off the light and they ended up in bed. Mashita let out a soft sigh and curled up against him. And they fell asleep together again--at least until Mashita's coughing woke him up.
Yashiki padded to the kitchen and made some tea for them both, with throat drops to soothe Mashita's throat. They didn't get back to bed until about 4AM.
*
Days later, Yashiki found himself feverish. He checked for marks from spirits, as he always did. But there was no haze, no signs of a curse.
There was nothing on television. No calls to be heard. No news was good news. Even the spirits took Golden Week off.
"Told you that you'd catch my cold," Mashita said smugly.
"It was only a matter of time," Yashiki said.
Mashita got out of bed. Got dressed up again in a suit. Faintly rumpled, but he wore it well. Yashiki admired his partner. He was handsome in a rumpled way. Even fully dressed, there was a wildness in his dark eyes. Like he might lash out or strike at any moment.
"I'll be back soon enough. Don't get eaten by spirits when I'm gone."
"I'd taste pretty bad now."
He wasn't in the best state. Feverish, unshaven, unshowered. His whole body ached and burned like he'd been marked by the Death Mark again. Except this time, it was just his body fighting off some invaders. Some virus that snuck in unannounced.
Mashita smirked. "Good. The last thing I want to do is share you with the spirits."
A few hours, Mashita returned. Yashiki had nodded off in bed, still in sweatpants and some infomercial playing in the background on the television.
Mashita brought food. More ramen for them to eat in bed. This time not instant, at least.
"So you're repaying the favor."
"You like pork flavor," he said.
"You're right."
"No surprise there," Mashita said.
No calls, no suspicious deaths. Good, they could use a rest. Even if it means they spent it being sick.
"Some damned way to spend a vacation," Mashita said.
And there was no one he'd rather spend it with his partner. This foul-mouthed, tempestuous guy.
They half-watched the infomercial. Yashiki reached out to take Mashita's hand. Mashita squeezed back.
"You're going to have to pay me back for all were missing out on this," Mashita said.
"Of course I'll reimburse you for groceries," Yashiki said.
"I don't mean the damned groceries," Mashita said.
Yashiki looked at him curiously. There was a faint hint of a blush that wasn't from a fever. Mashita was never very good at expressing his feelings. Romantic feelings, that was. Even though they'd been together for some time. He was quite good at expressing anger. But, love? That was another thing entirely.
Mashita would blush sometimes, and then get angry that he reacted and lose it. Usually it was when he was trying to show some sort of affection. It was part of his charm, really.
"Oh, I see. I'll pay you back double."
If Yashiki kissed Mashita now, he'd probably cough in his face. So, he curled up on the couch and laid against his partner. Mashita shifted enough to better accommodate him, and rested his arm about him.
"You're not as bad a nursemaid as you said," Yashiki said.
"Don't tell anyone. You'll ruin my reputation," Mashita said.
Yashiki chuckled. They pulled the covers up, and were lulled by the sound of the television.
