Chapter Text
At the risk of sounding insane, Tomoro found he liked it when Raito was angry. He wouldn't confess the fact even under torture, but the sight always made him feel giddy as a schoolgirl with a crush.
The first time Tomoro realized he felt this way was on their first bounty hunt as a lone duo, when the owner they’d apprehended had begun berating and threatening the innocent baby form of his partner. Just as Tomoro was opening his mouth to scream at him, Raito had kicked the man in the face. Then, once he was on the floor, Raito had kept kicking him.
A better person would've held Raito back and told him to calm down, but Tomoro never did claim to be the perfect good guy. When Raito's face had twisted in disgust, and he'd wiped the sole of his shoe against the ground as if to clean the filthy essence of that owner off of it—that was the instant that Tomoro knew he must be crazy. It'd made his heart race, and he'd had to raise his hand to his mouth to cover the smile he couldn't fight.
The memory of that day never failed to give Tomoro butterflies, something he was dreadfully embarrassed by. He was supposed to be the sane person in this relationship, not find violence hot.
Alas, in Tomoro's eyes, Raito was a professional at making violence hot.
The second time Tomoro found his boyfriend's rage attractive was during a simple errand run. They'd gone to the store to get some food with the money from their bounty, and Tomoro had stubbornly tried to carry more than he should have. Some random jerk on the street had walked right into him, knocking him down and causing him to drop his groceries. Instead of apologizing, the man had sneered at Tomoro and told him to watch where he was going.
He'd barely made it two steps away before Raito had punched him, forced him to apologize to Tomoro, then punched him again for not sounding sincere. Like with the owner previously, Raito had felt the need to wipe his hand clean before helping Tomoro to his feet and fussing over his well-being. Tomoro had been helpless to hide the way he blushed. He could still recall feeling like a damn princess when Raito picked up everything he'd dropped and insisted on carrying it all back himself.
One might call Tomoro basic for thinking so, but was having a boyfriend who defended your honor and carried your groceries not the dream?
If all that wasn't enough to prove that Tomoro was mental, he especially loved it when Raito was angry with him. Whether the anger was from Tomoro being too reckless in battle or from him forgetting his share of the chores, Raito's struggle to restrain himself was a treat to watch. He would shove his hands into his pockets to hide the way his fists clenched and unclenched. His voice would start to raise, then come back down to an even tone, then start to raise again. Even his eyebrows would twitch as he fought to keep his expression neutral instead of glaring.
The best part was all the different synonyms for ‘idiot’ Raito would spout. Tomoro barely held back laughter at words like numbskull, imbecile, ignoramus. They sounded cartoonish. His favorite was when Raito would get so exasperated, he gave up on creativity and settled for saying ‘dummy’ over and over.
The next time that particular scenario occurred, Tomoro couldn't resist kissing his boyfriend's pouty lips.
“Hey, I'm lecturing you, dummy.” Raito scowled.
Tomoro ignored him and gave him another kiss.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
And another kiss.
“That won't work.”
And another one.
“That's my move. You can't use my move against me!”
And another.
“Shit.”
Tomoro grinned triumphantly when Raito kissed him back, lifting him to carry him back to their room. The last thing they needed was another lecture public displays of affection in the common living area. Their friends were probably sick to death of giving them.
“You infuriate me, you know that?” Raito sighed, diving in for another kiss despite himself.
“Mhmm. That was the plan.”