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being a detective also meant being good at playing pretend, being good at playing some dirty criminal’s friend before knocking the light out of them.
“thanks for the info, dumbass”, mysta grumbled with a cigarette between his lips, rolling the unconscious man down at his feet to lay on the side. his skilled fingers made quick work of the wallet, taking the few dollars and cards he deemed as useful, and breaking the flimsy iphone with his sheer hands. what a waste of money, he thought but didn’t care.
his sunset eyes clung onto the half empty box of cigarettes on the glass table, debating if he should take them with him or not; mysta wasn’t really fond of smoking but he had learned all the ways to inhale those toxic cancer sticks for the sake of missions. the way the hot smoke would burn his throat and leave a bitter aftertaste on his tongue; his left hand would always smell like fire whereas his right one didn’t; he could feel the nicotine creep up into his brain like a virus.
he found himself taking them before checking his own phone, flicking the burnt our cigarette into an ashtray. sonny would be there in a few minutes, would take care of the sleeping child trafficker to his feet. mysta didn’t feel like dealing with the officer and his team, gracefully leaving the bar through a backdoor after checking the area, making sure nobody got a glimpse of him.
the detective would never find himself liking tobacco as it tasted like dog shit to him — but “old habits die hard”, he and luca would always agree on that. after four months of being undercover for some stupidly reckless job sonny had given him, mysta was used to smoke at least one pack in three days. and even after the whole ordeal, he would often find his mind wandering off to hot little cancer sticks, between his fingers, beautiful white smoke forming rings mid-air.
it’s been a year since that mission, and a year of mysta finding himself stealing already opened cigarette packs from knocked out criminals, a year of shu and ike and vox scolding him for risking his health — something he couldn’t give less of a fuck about. luca would always keep quiet or leave the room when the topic was brought up, knowing very well that him and mysta were just sharing the pack of malboro gold on their roof, mafia boss and detective bonding how they would only do in the movies.
mysta ignited a fresh new cigarette as he walked home, strolling through dark alleyways and under street lanterns he knew were broken. he enjoyed the silence of the night, the calm before the storm, before he would enter the house and shu’s sensitive nose would pick up the smell of tobacco instantly.
“mysta”, he would sigh and give him a tight hug nevertheless, ignoring the stinging sensation creeping up his nose; shu would never feel comfortable with anything that reminded him of fire (except for his own flames, maybe) but he loved mysta more than he hated the smell of cigarettes.
“any injuries today?” mysta couldn’t spot ike’s, luca’s or vox’ shoes as he took his own off, followed by his jacket and gloves.
“nah, nobody dares to take any weapons into fulgur’s bar and i knocked the guy out when he thought turning his back towards me was clever”, the detective rambled with a soft smile on his lips. shu chuckled lightly before they walked to the couch together, flopping down into the soft cushions. mysta buried his face in the crook of the ravenette’s neck, finding comfort in the faint lavender scent. they stayed like that for a while, with shu straddling the detective’s lap, eyes closed and resting his chin on mysta’s shoulder.
“i’m baaaack.” luca’s entrances were always loud when he had a bad day, when he had to outright force himself to be light hearted (which he never was, let’s be honest, he was part of the mafia after all) and mysta thought he was really bad at it.
“welcome home!” shu would usually go up to everyone but the way mysta was holding onto his waist left him no choice than to yell the greeting.
luca entered the living room shortly after, shirt and hair ruffled up, face looking as tired as mysta felt. he held one of his arms out, inviting the blonde to join the cuddle session — which he immediately did. wasting no second thought, luca snuggled up against his boyfriends, giving both a light kiss on their cheeks, a small noise of feeling content resonating in the boss’ throat. mysta could feel the vibration of it, lightly, against his shoulder, tickling his skin.
ike sometimes dreamt about his old life — from the past, when oil lamps and dusty furnishings were all that surrounded him and his mountain of unfinished manuscripts — and after the third time he deemed them as nightmares. his old life was a tragedy compared to the happy laughter in the living room, friendly banter and lucid touches on his body. if he’d ever have to live without all that again, it would continue breaking him apart where it had left off years ago.
vox and luca entered the kitchen, empty glasses in their hands. the movie they’d watched with mysta was over now and ike could hear the door to their terrace open, followed by a closing sound. ah, ike thought, letting his hand lightly paint a warm stroke on luca’s lower back as he left the kitchen. his eyes were just fast enough to catch mysta igniting the cigarette between his lips, fire licking the tip of that deadly thing for a few seconds. ike let out a sigh, deep and worried, before going to the front door to grab mysta’s and luca’s jackets.
”you’ll catch a cold.” mysta’s head turned at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, eyeing the white fabric he handed him — ike looked so small in that huge coat, the detective scared he would have to save him from drowning in all that fur.
“thanks”, he smiled tiredly, putting the cancer stick between his lips before he tucked himself up in his own jacket. he knew ike wouldn’t like to have his own clothes smelling like fire so he picked the other smoker’s coat; the one that already went through uncountable washing machine sessions and vox’ and shu’s vast knowledge on how to clean every single blood stain from the expensive piece of clothing. a bit of cigarette smoke surely wouldn’t be a big deal.
mysta remembered the first time he had seen that expensive fur, chasing after it like a fox a rabbit. mysta had always been a desperate person — may it be dedicated to catching a criminal, fighting for his own life on the streets (because he had nobody else except for himself) or the attention of people surrounding him. he grew up deprived of everything he never had, so why would people always say it’s wrong to crave those little things now?; when he craved to catch luca with that damn suitcase because he really, really needed the money from his client; when he was just desperate to keep himself alive, in hope of getting better someday (maybe).
the last thing his teal eyes could catch were a blur of lavender, white, and gold. the face of the man he was chasing frozen in shock, confusion. the white fur coat over those wide shoulders looked comfortable in the shadows of the lanterns from the main street behind them, the detective could only stare at the fluff with dread, thinking how sad it was for him to have no chance to snatch it away (just like he did with every criminal he caught and knocked unconscious; mysta loved collecting little trophies to remind himself of his successes).
mysta could only scream, tears forming in the corner of his eyes as his hands tried to grab the man, tried to latch himself onto something, someone, to save him from this swirling sensation, making him feel like he was getting ripped apart. he felt like throwing up, more so when he could only numbly watch as the man moved his arm towards him, fast and in panic, but too slow.
he was being swallowed whole.
his throat hurt, his eyes burned, and his stomach was ready to empty itself, if there wouldn’t have been cold darkness around him, hugging his body, not ready to let go — mysta laughed at himself in pity, realizing that he was, in fact, too scared to throw up.
ike snuggled up against his right side and mysta immediately hugged the petite frame of the novelist, hand resting a bit above his waist. the white fuzz of the coat wasn’t even touching him, yet he could feel the soft feeling of it on the tips of his fingers as his brain had already memorized the warmth a long time ago.
the bitter aftertaste of the cigarette overwrote the sweetness of vox’ homemade popcorn, he noticed, softly blowing the smoke out of parted lips, to the left side so it wouldn’t be in ike’s pretty face. the rush of nicotine was familiar and comforting and mysta hated it.
“here you are.” mysta and ike turned their heads towards the glass door, shu smiling at them — because how could he not, finding his two boyfriends snuggled up together, looking up at the clear sky autumn would gift them every year.
ike noticed the sorcerer was only wearing a thin sweater — and sweatpants he had been looking for in his closet for the longest time — so he raised his right arm, inviting the ravenette to join in on the gentle warmth, which he accepted with a smile. his amethyst eyes gave the cigarette between mysta’s fingers a sceptical look but it was fine, mysta was fine, he told himself. it was just them, luca’s coat, the sweet smell of popcorn in ike’s hair, and the stars.
(vox came back into the living room, finding luca standing at their big window facing the little garden they had to themselves. the blonde had his hands in the pockets of his shorts, lavender eyes watching the three people outside with fondness. vox let his sight wander, face quickly matching luca’s expression.
“i hope they won’t catch a cold”, the demon mumbled as he walked to stand next to his boyfriend and luca felt the demon’s cold hand slotting itself into his own — it reminded the mafioso how shu would always take ike’s hand during cold seasons and shove them into his jacket pocket, doing the same to whoever was walking on the other side of him. it seemed like the sorcerer’s habit was starting to rub off on some of them.
“not with my coat”, the blonde giggled, partly because vox’ fingers intervening with his own tickled his skin.)
the blonde silently kept staring at the man in front of him, making him tremble in fear as he noticed the drastic chance in luca’s expression. the man’s brown eyes flicker down to the sleeping figure in the boss’ lap, face buried under a blanket and in a broad chest — the man swallowed, hard, before attempting to open his mouth once again.
“i’ve listended to your nonsense long enough”, luca was faster, and tired of enduring the amount of bullshit he had to witness today (he hated meeting and office days), as he gave a masked silhouette at the door a nod.
before the man could shout in protest, a silent gunshot cut him out of his desperate thoughts, body slumping down onto the glass table, smearing blood over the surface. luca clicked his tongue as he watched the other masked shadows disposing of the body, leaving no corn of dust behind; as if the past hour has never happened.
“ike”, gloved hands carefully gave the novelist on his lap a touch on the cheek, followed by a butterfly kiss on the forehead. ike’s jade eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking up into his boyfriend’s face in confusion; “the meeting’s over?”
“yeah”, luca laughed when the gray-haired one let out a cat-like yawn, stretching his body in the process, “let’s go home, yeah?” ike nodded with a tiny smile on his cherry lips, making the mafioso planting a soft kiss onto them. ike giggled.
mysta stepped out his cigarette, watching the backdoor open and lucubs carry out a black body sack. one of them greeted him with a short nod before going back into their line of work (getting rid of dead people without raising suspicion, apparently). the detective figured luca didn’t like what the businessman proposed or he woke up beautifully sleeping ike — either way, mysta would probably act no different.
when he went back inside the hideout after picking up the cigarette from the ground, putting it in the pockets of his pants just to forget it again and get scolded by shu or vox (depended on who did the laundry). they should just be glad he never left any obvious traces around, making the police suspicious of him and or luca.
luca spotted him immediately, handing him a very much still sleepy ike: “i promised yotsuha to visit the new donut shop in town with her in like, uh, an hour.” mysta could only shake his head with a grin, realizing his blonde boyfriend picked out today’s date for a yotsuha “adventure” to slip away from grocery shopping.
“yeah, yeah, just don’t forget to bring some home for us, ’kay?” luca laughed at the detective’s words, giving both him and ike a hurried kiss before leaving the building.
shu woke up as something next to him began to stir; getting ready to leave the bed as carefully as possible. the sorcerer’s amethyst eyes darted around the dark ceiling before his arm began to move.
“vox?” the demon stopped mid movement, contrite expression on his face. he turned back to his lover — shu looked completely out of it, dazed and confused, mysta snuggled against his side and snoring peacefully — and gave him an apologetic look, although he was sure shu couldn’t see it.
“go back to sleep, darling, i’m just getting myself a tea”, the demon whispered, planting a kiss on the sorcerer’s forehead. sleepy shu needed a few heartbeats to process vox’ words but ended up humming nevertheless, turning around to put his arm around mysta’s waist, resting his chin on the detective’s head.
“hurry…” vox smiled silently at the whispered word before making his way into the kitchen. he would remember all those times he’d encountered shu making instant ramen at 3 in the morning, looking at the demon sheepish as if he’d got caught committing a crime.
“breakfast or dinner?” shu laughed at vox’ question, lightly and full of joy, careful not to wake the others.
he’d watch the demon with his amethyst eyes while eating at the bar part of their counter. it was luca’s idea to rebuild their kitchen as it provided little to no space for cooking (not that he was the one making him breakfast and dinner every day, but he still pitied vox and shu when they mentioned how hard it was preparing big meals with no room).
“do you want a tea as well?”, the demon asked, head turned around with the open cupboard in which all their mugs were stored. shu could only nod as he was busy chewing on his ramen — who was he to refuse a steamy cup of tea from the vox akuma? surely only idiots would deny (even mysta would drink it occasionally, although only after he dumped three kilos of sugar into the drink, much to ike’s and vox’ disapproval).