“Ira!” Ren hugged him tightly, squeezing until his lungs croaked and his bones cracked. Ira winced from the burst of pain, for some reason having turned his sense of pain on again.
Grunting when he was released, he looked Ren over, searching for potential injuries. “Ren,” Ira said, smiling at his best friend once he’d confirmed their good health. Ren patted his shoulder roughly, grinning at him, and Ira then asked, “Who’s the kid?”
“The one you found,” Ren said, nudging said kid with their toes. The kid ducked his head, hiding a little behind Ren, and Ira hummed. Then his eyes slid to Gloria, standing by the door and flipping a knife over in her hands. Her nails still sparkled. Ira’s eyes narrowed. Ren, following his gaze, laughed and said, “Have you found a new love?”
“No,” said Ira. He shook his head, walking backwards to give Ren and the others more room to move in the apartment’s narrow hallway. They hung their coats on the hangers, leaving their umbrellas leaning against the wall. A smattering of rain was softly beating upon the windows, audible even in the hallway. Ira lead the way, then, to the living room where a plate of biscuits was already prepared.
Ren sat down properly on the couch while Ira flopped down bonelessly beside them. A rough hand then moved to his head, starting to softly pet his hair. His eyes closed at the gentle message, and he pressed closer to Ren.
Gloria interrupted, saying, “I’ve got some sparkly nail polish with me, if you still want to try them, sir.”
Ira waved faintly in her direction. “The sparkliest one you have, please,” he said, starting to open his eyes. Ren was warm against him, and he sighed a little as they hit an itchy part of his scalp.
Ren commented, “I’m sure you’ll be pretty in any color.” Their fingers was still moving through his hair, and he turned over onto his side, his head somehow resting on Ren’s lap. He wasn’t entirely sure when that happened, but he wasn’t against it. Sighing again, he opened his eyes properly and caught sight of the young kid—how young, he didn’t know—standing stiffly in a corner of the room.
Ira groaned. “Just sit down somewhere, kid,” he said and pushed himself up until he was sitting as well. He still pressed his side to Ren’s, enjoying the solid connection.
Gloria moved toward him while Ira laid his hands on the coffee table and stretched them out as much as possible. His fingernails were slightly too long, the tips white as opposed to the normal pink. Gloria hunched down on the other side of the table, leaning over so much that her cleavage was on full display. Ren’s eyes were glued to the boobs.
Ira also looked.
They were blobs of flesh, what was making Ren so interested in them?
Gloria started to paint his nails carefully, taking her time to make it pretty. Ira’s foot kicked at Ren’s, Ren’s whole body stiffening as they turned their head to glare at him. Ira nodded at Gloria, who had her head down as she concentrated, and mouthed, “Boobs?”
“Shut it—” Ren’s elbows lightly slammed into his side.
Ira’s hand twitched, and Gloria muttered, “Stay still,” not even glancing up.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that the kid had sat down on the floor, and his eyes narrowed. “Sit on a chair, kid,” Ira said, using kid to make it clear who he was talking to. The kid flinched, but nodded under long hair, moving to the nearest armchair and sitting down at the very edge, touching it as little as possible.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Ira was kind of offended— “The chair is clean, sit properly,” Ira ordered. The kid flinched again, but followed his commands. Ira’s back straightened, satisfaction burning through him.
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Ren said, “Very pretty,” and Ira grinned wildly.
“It is very well done, Gloria,” he told his Minion Leader, and the smile she gave him in return was angelic. Certainly, it was a sharp difference to the smile she’d worn while shooting those cops. But it was equally pretty.
Ren appeared to agree, from the way they was staring at her.
Was it the boobs? Did boobs matter that much?
…Angelo also had boobs. He was well-muscled, far more then his lithe build suggested. Ira kind of wanted to touch them now, just to see what the big deal was. And surely, Angelo’s boobs were superior to any others; they were Angelo’s. Angelo was amazing, and so was everything about him.
(Fuck, that was too mushy. Think about murder, Ira. Murder was fun!)
Murder was fun, Ira decided. He should do it again sometime. Maybe Angelo could join him next time—they could make a whole date out of it. All romantic and everything. Maybe bring some candles, some wine, some good food…
Ira grinned. Gloria finished the last nail, and Ira very cautiously slid it out from under her. He held it up next to his other hand, flexing both fingers and stretching as much as he could. They were so pretty, Ira realized. So very, very pretty. It was a prettiness that evoked much the same feeling as blood did in him, but a far gentler version of it. He liked it—liked the simplicity of making something so small so pretty.
“Thank you,” Ira said, clearing his throat for a non-mentionable reason. He cleared his throat yet again when Ren gazed at him with amused eyes, resisting the urge to duck his head. Rather, he straightened his back and held his head high.
Ira had nothing to be ashamed of!
Gloria muffled her laughter in her hand, like a good minion should. Ira tossed his head, not at all mulishly, and turned to the living room’s entrance. Not even a few seconds later, there was a muffled thud and clicks as the apartment’s front door was opened, Angelo stepping inside and bringing with him a sense of calm that should be illegal. Ira narrowed his eyes, but smoothed his expression out again and Gloria once more laughed.
Angelo called, “Ira?”
“In the living room,” Ira answered, not raising his voice very much. It wasn’t a very big apartment, after all. Sounds didn’t need a lot of effort to carry in here; they rather echoed fairly well on their own, anyway.
Angelo’s footsteps were loud on the hardwood floor. He soon came into view, walking right up to Ira and leaning his forearms on the couch’s backrest. Ira gazed up at him, at the dark eyes hidden in the living room’s half-darkness. Night was falling and it was getting darker every minute. He vaguely heard Gloria standing up, and the kid did as well.
“Welcome home,” said Ira into the sudden, strange silence that had befallen the world.
Angelo smiled so softly at him that Ira’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m home,” Angelo said, leaning down further until his forehead collide gently with Ira’s. The touch was scorching, all-consuming, so overwhelming that Ira was, for a moment, sure he was sick. There was a sound in his ears that it took him too long to identify as his heartbeat; a tingling, fluttering feeling in his stomach he couldn’t quite name.
Ira took a deep breath, his stomach curling in on itself and out again, and said, “I’ve got pretty nails now.”
He didn’t know why he’d said that.
But regret was for losers.
Inhaling sharply, Ira held up his hand between them. Angelo laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh (like those early Hosts of his did, when he didn’t understand something that was obvious to them. There was so much laughter. So fucking much.) and Ira didn’t flinch the way he would have at one point done on reflex.
Angelo nudged their noses together, still smiling, and Ira took pictures from every direction while his stomach continued to uselessly flutter. It wasn’t a bad feeling, he decided. Not bad at all.
His fiancé looked at Ira’s nails, after, intently studying them. Ira thought he heard Gloria gulp, but he couldn’t imagine why and so ignored it. The kid was still huddling in the corner it’d found, not even muttering to itself. Ira was both impressed and kind of worried—it was holding its breath for inhumanly long time periods.
“Come, sit,” Ira said, scooting closer to Ren to free up enough space. Angelo went around the couch’s edge and sat down beside him, looking from Ira to Gloria who was very determinedly looking in another direction. Ira, sensing something strange, was filled with kindness and grace as he said, “You can leave, Gloria.”
“Thanks, boss,” Gloria chirped, not even glancing back as she instantly left.
Ira blinked.
He looked at Ren, who was gazing after the empty space that Gloria had been occupying approximately zero point two seconds earlier. Tilting his head, he hummed. Ren’s gaze shot to him, and they blushed. Ren blushed. Ira was not aware Ren could blush.
Clearing their throat, Ren said, “Well, I’ll get the kid settled in.” And then they rushed up and did just that, the kid hurrying after.
Ira blinked again.
He pouted—he felt a little abandoned. He hadn’t seen Ren for weeks, and now Ren was rushing to get away from him as soon as they arrived… “Ren’s embarrassed, love,” Angelo murmured, knocking their sides gently together. Ira shook his head, only for the reason to clear it, and hummed again. When he glanced at his lover, Angelo was smiling. The man added, “Just give them some time.”
Ira pursed his lips, but said, “I understand.” He loosed his arms so he wasn’t crossing them over his chest anymore (when did that happen?) and instead turned to sit on his side, facing Angelo, pulling his legs up on the couch in the process. He gazed at his fiancé in silence for a minute, observing the lines of his face, the glitter in his eyes, the shine of his hair.
Then he leaned forward until he slumped against Angelo’s body, falling downward. Angelo fell, too, bearing his weight with grace as he landed on the couch’s backrest with a small thud. His arms curled around Ira, hugging him tightly. Ira’s eyelashes fluttered, and his hands clung onto Angelo with a fierceness he didn’t recognize.
“I love you,” whispered Angelo into Ira’s hair.
Ira’s heart constricted in his chest, and he whispered, “I know.”
He did know. He really, really did. Ira was not that stupid, nor that heartless, that he would forget or misunderstand Angelo’s love. But it was… different hearing it. Different, being told. Different, being confronted with it.
Angelo did not ask if Ira loved him back.
Ira wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.
(Did he love Angelo? Was he in love with Angelo? …Those were things he could barely comprehend, much less recognize in himself.)
(How could Angelo be so certain?)
Ira clung tighter, closing his eyes completely. He sank into the other man, as much as he could with these stupid physical bodies, enveloped by warmth and heat and softness that almost managed to take his breath away. That he started dosing was no surprise, that Angelo dosed as well was not either. Angelo had worked hard, probably, and working hard mandated lots of sleeping. Or so Ira understood it, anyway.
Once they woke, some time later, they had dinner together with Ren and the still unnamed kid. And at bedtime, Ira and Angelo slept in the same bed, curled together.
And Ira didn’t want to leave.
A/N: It’s a new month! You know what that means—it’s the best possible time to join my Patreon!
And don’t forget, you can read ch 1 & 2 of Fake NPC for free. No account is needed!
Sparkly nails for the Win!
Aaaah ira finally starting to question his own feelings!!