Work Text:
Akihiko surveyed the scene with a weary scowl.
A cup of cold tea dug into the unprotected finish of the mahogany coffee table. At an uncomfortable proximity to the tea cup was a stack of untidy papers and an uncapped pen, ready to bleed onto the fresh paper. She was asleep in the chaise by the window, her reading glasses dripping from her fingertips and her favorite blanket pulled to her waist.
She insisted that the pandemonium of the fiscal year was dying, and that she only needed to crack down on a few minor departments before it was over completely.
Akihiko glanced at the plain cardboard box in his hand; still, what a way to spend a birthday.
Akihiko put the box aside and set to work. He reached the blanket over her shoulders before he plucked the reading glasses from her fingertips and folded them onto the table. Akihiko slipped a coaster under the teacup and shrugged off his coat, his gaze lingering on his wife's sleeping figure before he collected the box and turned for the kitchen.
Friday nights were always long. Tonight had been no different. Other than the usual parade of riotous parties, petty assaults, and small drug busts, Akihiko's shift had been uneventful.
Akihiko traced a finger down the long line of a cut between his knuckles - relatively uneventful, anyway.
One of his officers had let his guard down on a half-cuffed drug dealer, giving the perpetrator enough time to snatch back his confiscated knife and swing it in blind panic.
Akihiko placed the box on the counter before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water from the back.
Akihiko had been quick enough to pull the officer away and out of immediate danger, but diverting the officer with his left hand meant Akihiko had to use his sluggish right hook in order to take down the dealer. The tingling lack of inhibitions had set his blood alight with adrenaline, and the moment the blade caught his skin, Akihiko felt the nostalgic high of exhilaration race through him. Once he'd pinned the dealer to the ground, the feeling was killed with the clicking of the handcuffs and his colleague's surreal debriefing. Akihiko had left the scene exhausted.
He turned around and leaned against the refrigerator, looking at the box as he sipped leisurely from the bottle.
His shift had ended with a radio request to assist with a handful of very underage and very inebriated school-girls (who had not only lost themselves in the music of a nightclub, but had also lost the contents of their stomachs all over their sequined tops). Akihiko had half-dragged the slurring girls to the squad car, and he couldn't help but shake his head at how far he'd come from the days of monsters and sore muscles.
Akihiko lifted the lid of the box and inspected the contents. He hadn't spotted her favorite in the lineup of delicate, flaky crusts, shining fruit, and immaculately cut squares of mousse and cream set over thick chocolate foundations. Instead, Akihiko had been forced to pick out something different. The whole ordeal had taken most of his lunch break, and Akihiko hadn't received a lot of help from the very kind and very French attendant behind the counter. Only after a series of frustrated head scratches and odd sounding grunts had he managed to emerge from the shop victorious.
He turned to the doorway upon hearing a series of gentle creaks. Mitsuru appeared. Pale moonlight encroached from the window; almost dawn. Mitsuru’s silk robe shimmered in the frail blue light.
“When did you get home?” she asked.
“A few minutes ago,” Akihiko said before putting the water bottle to his lips. He swallowed the remainder, his throat throbbing from the cold, and placed the empty bottle on the counter. Akihiko followed Mitsuru's lazy path as she progressed into the kitchen. She tilted her head at the box on the counter.
“Happy Birthday,” Akihiko said.
Through the darkness, she rewarded him with a sleepy smile. “Thank you.”
“Go back to sleep," he said. “It's still early.”
“Dessert first, I think,” Mitsuru's smile grew mischievous even as she touched her eyes.
Akihiko gave a weary laugh as he leaned across the table. “Am I that predictable?”
Mitsuru hummed as she looked to the pastry box. “I happen to like having a husband who knows what I like.”
Akihiko replied with a shrug and fished a fork out of a nearby drawer before offering it to Mitsuru. She paused before she reached past the fork and brushed her fingers over the newly won cut on Akihiko's hand.
“Exciting night?” Mitsuru looked up at him evenly.
Akihiko offered her a tight smile. “Just a little hectic.”
“I see,” she said.
She turned away before Akihiko could decipher the expression in her eyes. Mitsuru turned on the light above the stove before she moved to the other side of the kitchen and retrieved a roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant gel from a drawer. Akihiko raised an eyebrow as she pulled two chairs out from underneath the counter and motioned for him to sit. He obeyed without protest.
Akihiko frowned while Mitsuru began to gently apply the thick gel to his cut.
“I know what you're thinking,” he said at last.
Mitsuru appraised him with a brief smirk before she proceeded to roll the bandage over his hand.
“Oh?” Mitsuru's eyes remained focused as she secured the ends of the bandage.
“I've been wondering the same thing myself, to be honest,” Akihiko added, his voice grave.
She sighed in response.
“Tell me then: What am I thinking?” Mitsuru leaned forward in her seat, her eyebrows raised in anticipation and a slight smile on her lips.
Akihiko caught a stray lock of red hair in his fingers and tucked it behind Mitsuru's ear. His hand lingered on her cheek.
“You're wondering if I've grown up at all,” Akihiko smiled.
The smile slid instantly from Mitsuru's lips. “Akihiko...” she began.
Akihiko removed his hand from her face and rubbed his eyes. “It's funny. Ten years ago I would ask myself 'what do I want to accomplish by the end of the night?' and I'd always answer 'I want to come home this much faster, that much stronger.’”
Mitsuru frowned as she returned Akihiko's intent gaze, her hand cradling his fist.
“And now?” she asked.
Akihiko leaned forward. “And now..."
He brushed his hand past her ear, catching her hair with two fingers. Akihiko lingered there, weary and content.
Mitsuru admired him with her own lingering smile. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Akihiko was content to watch her as she collected the remainder of the items on the table and rose from her seat.
“So... how was your night, Officer?” Mitsuru asked innocently, a wry smile fixed to her lips as she deposited the first aid kit into a drawer.
Akihiko thought back on the pandemonium of the evening with a conflicted frown. His expression ebbed when he recalled coming home just minutes ago to a locked door and a sleeping spouse.
He looked up and found Mitsuru biting her lip with an impish smile as she peered into the box. Their eyes met. Mitsuru released an embarrassed laugh, her cheeks pink. Akihiko gave her a hard stare before he uncrossed his legs and went to her.
“Good,” he answered gruffly, pulling Mitsuru to his chest and resting his head atop hers. He ran his fingers through the cascade of soft curls around her ears and released a slow exhale when she returned his embrace.
“It was a good night,” he murmured.