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The rooftop bench creaked slightly beneath Kafka as he lay sprawled across it, his head resting in Soshiro’s lap. The late afternoon sun hung lazily overhead, its warmth sinking into his skin. Above them, the sky stretched out in a perfect canvas of blue, the fluffy white clouds drifting like idle thoughts. One of them looked like a cat. Or maybe a fox? He wasn’t sure. His eyelids grew heavy, his body sinking further into the gentle lull of Soshiro’s presence. If he just let himself drift, he could fall asleep right here.
If only said boyfriend wasn’t being a complete weirdo.
“Oi, whaddya think ‘bout movin’ in together?” Soshiro’s voice cut through the silence.
Kafka blinked sluggishly, tilting his head just enough to catch sight of Soshiro’s face. His boyfriend wasn’t even looking at him, eyes glued to his phone, scrolling idly with one hand. To anyone else, he’d look like he was just killing time, but Kafka knew better. He knew that Soshiro wasn’t just messing around. He was deep into apartment listings right now, running calculations in his head, planning everything down to the smallest detail without saying much of it out loud.
"It’d have to be somewhere ‘round the First ‘n the Third so we both get equal distance,” Soshiro muttered, half to himself. His thumb flicked across the screen, his mind already a mile ahead. Kafka knew how this worked. This wasn’t really a conversation yet. It was just Soshiro thinking out loud, filling in the details before Kafka even had the chance to form an opinion.
Kafka exhaled, shifting slightly against Soshiro’s lap. Yeah. He was weird.
Not controlling, exactly. But once something caught Soshiro’s attention, that was it. He locked onto it, focused so intently that everything else faded into the background.
It seemed like Soshiro no longer had the patience to come all the way out to Ariake Base anymore.
Well, what did he expect after what he did to Narumi?
"Shinjuku Ward’s pretty close ta both of us," Soshiro murmured, his voice smooth and unhurried, fingers idly scrolling through his phone. "‘Bout thirty-four minutes for ya, looks like thirty for me. Don’t think it’s that bad."
Kafka sighed, staring at the sky, the faint hum of the city below mixing with the occasional gust of wind over the rooftop. He should’ve known this would come up again.
Especially when Soshiro was stretched out beside him, looking entirely too pleased with himself, freshly satisfied after bending Kafka in two and having his way with him earlier.
It had been after that, after the heat had settled and their breaths had evened out, that Soshiro had first said it, holding him close, hair still tousled, face half-buried against Kafka’s shoulder.
"I'm tired of comin’ here ta see ya. We should just get our own place."
Kafka, of course, had flushed bright red, shoved his face away, and called him ridiculous.
Soshiro had only grunted in mild annoyance. Then, he’d gone completely silent. Too silent.
And that’s how Kafka knew. Once something lodged itself in Soshiro’s head, it became a thing. A plan. And Kafka knew there was only so much he could do before Soshiro just… did what he wanted.
Now, lying on his side, Kafka shifted slightly, gaze flicking to the railing surrounding the rooftop as if it could hide his embarrassment. "I wish I still had my old apartment," he mumbled. "Too bad the Council canceled my lease and took all my stuff. We could’ve lived there. It would’ve been tight, so I dunno if you’d like it."
He hoped Soshiro understood what he meant.
Fingertips brushed over the shell of his ear, rough but cool against his skin. Kafka clenched his jaw. Damn it. He could feel how red his ears were.
"I woulda loved yer apartment," Soshiro drawled, voice rich with amusement. "Get ta see ya in yer natural habitat. Watch ya walk ‘round naked."
Kafka smacked his hand away, turning his face further into the fabric of Soshiro’s pants. "I didn’t walk around naked, you dork."
Soshiro laughed, far too charming for his own good. The sound curled warm in Kafka’s stomach, and before he could stop him, those fingers were back tracing over his earlobe, rolling the soft skin between his thumb and forefinger.
"What’s the point’a havin’ our own place if I can’t see ya naked at all times?"
Kafka rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck, but the smile tugging at his lips refused to fade. His cheeks ached with it. "You’re such a pervert."
"Only fer you."
Kafka exhaled, shifting just a little, just enough to tuck himself more comfortably into Soshiro’s strong thighs. He let his cheek rest against muscle, let himself soak in the quiet, let himself have this.
Fingers slid into his hair, nails dragging lightly over his scalp. A shiver ran down his spine.
Yeah. He could get used to this.
Soshiro just hummed in agreement, but his hand left Kafka, fingers no longer idly tracing over him. He was clearly more invested now that Kafka had given his approval.
Kafka cracked one eye open, his voice turning deliberately innocent. "There’s gotta be space for Kikoru and Reno, though..."
The moment Soshiro’s hands stilled, Kafka bit back a grin. The loud, unimpressed scoff that followed made it even harder to keep a straight face. But soon enough, Soshiro’s search resumed, his voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.
"‘Course, dear. How could I forget the children?"
The sarcasm was thick, but it didn’t change the fact that Soshiro was already adjusting his search parameters, probably filtering through three-bedroom apartments at this very moment.
Kafka beamed. "How could you?" he repeated, voice lilting, whimsical.
Soshiro grumbled a lazy "Yeah, yeah." Which only made Kafka laugh.
Soshiro was weird like that. He had no problem giving Kafka anything he wanted, almost too easily. Or maybe it wasn’t about that. Maybe it was about how much he cared. Enough to make sure Kafka had a space where Soshiro could fully wrap himself around him, where they could lay in their bed together without the noise of others just beyond the walls.
He wouldn’t act like it was some grand romantic gesture. He’d just put in the time, research, and effort, already three steps ahead before Kafka even had the chance to think about it. Quietly showing him places he liked, casually steering the decision without making it feel like a decision at all.
Never bothered with the prices, "Ain’t your money I want. Just pick one."
What he wanted was Kafka’s agreement.
His approval.
All Kafka had to do was say, "Yeah, that one looks nice." and it would be booked for a showing.
That was the way Soshiro was. The one who technically had all the power, yet somehow, Kafka was the one in full control.
And that made Kafka feel… a little high.
Because he could start anything. Stop anything. He could tease, push, play, and Soshiro would go along with it, no resistance, no hesitation. Not because Kafka had to beg for it, but because Soshiro wanted to.
Somehow, to his utter amazement, Soshiro Hoshina had become completely smitten with him. Kafka had no idea what he’d done to earn the affection of someone so clearly out of his league, but he wasn’t about to question it. Soshiro had made it perfectly clear that being by Kafka’s side was exactly where he wanted to be.
And Kafka… well…
Selfishly, he was going to hold on.
Fingers clenched tight around Soshiro’s love, unwilling to let go.
So if the weirdo himself wanted to buy an apartment just so they could have more personal alone time, then who was Kafka to stop him?
Moving in together was probably for the best. Kafka was kinda tired of having to keep hiding Soshiro from Narumi’s line of sight every time he came to visit.
Even if, to be fair, all of this was still Soshiro’s fault.
Kafka had made one offhand complaint about his service. Which, of course, had led to Soshiro casually asking what provider he used. Then, inevitably, Soshiro had actually looked at the phone, noticing the giant crack running across the screen.
He had smirked, teasing, " Figures you'd be walkin' ‘round with a busted screen."
Kafka, of course, had a perfectly good defense: It wasn’t even his fault. The crack had only happened because Narumi had bumped into him while he was playing a game, sending his phone tumbling to the ground.
Soshiro hadn’t laughed.
Instead, he had given Kafka an overly cheerful smile, one of those smiles, the kind that made Kafka’s stomach drop because it was so obviously fake and meant he was up to no good. Still, Soshiro had been normal for the rest of the day, not bringing it up again.
Until it was time to leave.
Narumi had passed by, game console in hand, completely unaware of the impending disaster. Kafka had barely processed what was happening before he saw that smile stretch across Soshiro’s face.
Wide, pleasant, and completely insincere.
Then, much to Kafka’s horror, Soshiro had stepped right into Narumi’s path and, without a word, snatched the console straight out of his hands.
And then slammed it into the ground.
Stomped on it for good measure.
Twice.
Then, while Narumi stood there, stunned, hands still frozen mid-air where he’d been holding the now-destroyed console, Soshiro had turned to him with the most fake pleasant voice Kafka had ever heard.
"Ah! Didn’t see ya there. My bad!"
And just like that, he’d walked right back to Kafka’s side like he hadn’t just declared war.
Narumi, still in the exact same position, had looked like his brain was actively blue-screening.
Kafka hadn’t known Soshiro was going to go off the deep end like that, but damn if it didn’t make him a little hot seeing his boyfriend defend him so unapologetically.
Soshiro never made a big deal about it afterward. Never brought it up like it was some grand gesture. Instead, he had just handed Kafka a brand-new phone, already set up under Soshiro’s plan.
"If anybody messes with ya," he’d said, voice light, almost casual, except for the wild glint in his eyes, "ya just lemme know, alright?"
Kafka had just stared at him, then down at the phone in his hands.
He sighed, but a small, helpless smile tugged at his lips.
He really did love his crazy ass.
Since then, whenever Soshiro came by the First Division, Hasegawa always made sure Narumi was either “busy” or conveniently somewhere else.
Now, lying on the bench, his head resting comfortably in his lover’s lap, Kafka shifted slightly, moving freely in the space Soshiro gave him. He tilted his head just enough to glance up. Soshiro was still scrolling, still searching, already deep in thought about their next step.
Kafka turned his gaze back to the sky, clouds drifting lazily above them. He wondered how he got so lucky.
"...Shiro," he murmured.
Soshiro immediately looked down. "Yeah?"
Kafka smiled. "Can we get a place with a rooftop? So we can do this at home?"
It was clearly a more expensive request, but Kafka had no problem putting his own money into their future.
Soshiro blinked at him, garnet eyes unreadable for half a second before his mouth stretched into a sharp, toothy grin.
"So we’re lookin’ for a house."
Kafka’s eyes widened. "I didn’t say that!"
"Don't be so cute," Soshiro murmured, running his thumb over Kafka’s lower lip. "I’ll give ya whatever ya want."
Kafka swallowed, feeling warmth creep up his neck as Soshiro's gaze locked onto him with that lazy, knowing smirk.
"So… a house?" Soshiro asked, voice rich with amusement.
Kafka’s face burned, but still nodded. "...Okay."
And just like that, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong all along. Maybe Soshiro really was the one in control. Because no matter how much he liked to think he had the upper hand, Kafka always found it damn near impossible to say no to him.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, the world around them fading into something soft and far away. The distant hum of the city below, the low murmur of traffic, the occasional blare of a horn, the chatter of people moving through their lives, became nothing more than background noise.
Everything else fell away.
It was just the two of them, caught in the kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full. Full of unspoken words, of lingering touches, of a quiet certainty that neither of them needed to say out loud.
Just Soshiro and Kafka.
BANG!
The rooftop door slammed open, nearly rattling on its hinges.
“YOU BOWLCUT MOTHERFUCKER!! ”
Kafka barely had time to process the voice before Soshiro’s soft expression vanished. His eyes darkening, jaw setting, his entire presence shifting into something dangerous. It was a look Kafka remembered all too well. The same one from their first fight.
Kafka groaned, already reaching to grab Soshiro’s arm before he could get up.
Yeah. Maybe moving in together really was the best idea.
At least then, moments like these wouldn’t end with an epic fistfight on the Ariake Martial Base rooftop.