Hotter Than Love

Does Domesticity Suit Us? Why Yes It Does.(Bonus chapter)

There were many ways to be greeted when coming home. Words of welcome, a hug, a kiss. Or, if your domestic partner was a short-tempered, redheaded idiot, a dinner plate to the head.
Fushimi had practice. Six months had passed since that early morning they'd shared in the hotel room and he'd be lying through his perfect teeth if he said they'd never fought. They had. Many times and more often than not, those fights ended in mutual bloodshed of some kind.

So, with a slight roll of his eyes, Fushimi jerked his head to the side, managing to dodge the makeshift projectile with ease. It shattered against the unforgiving wall behind his right shoulder, showering the entryway with porcelain remnants. He tsked, turning his narrowed eyes away from the plate and toward the fuming man standing in the dining room.
        
"That was my favorite."

"Shut up! You bastard! How could you?"

He could pretend to not know what Yata was talking about, prolong the argument, and sidestep the issue. But that would simply mean they would be fighting well into the night. As much as he loved to draw out their spats, (because nothing was better than working his Misaki up, watching his face flush red with emotion and his limbs shake with anger), he was tired. It'd been a long day and thanks to an extremely annoying Awashima and an equally irritating Capitan, Fushimi found his patients strung thin.

The audible breath he released spoke of his irritation at the Vanguard. "Really? Are we really going to do this Misaki? Didn't we agree in the beginning that we wouldn't let our work interfere with this?" he gestured between then with a wave of his hand. "In fact, I believe those were your words exactly."

Yata seethed. "You signed off on a search warrant for Bar Homra! They fucking trashed the place looking for refuge stains!"

"You weren't supposed to be there when it happened." He shrugged while kicking off his boots. "Besides, I did tell them to be careful."
        
           "I wasn't there but if you thought I wasn't going to find out then you're dumber than you look, stupid monkey."

           "Kamamoto?" he asked as he casually stalked into the kitchen.

           "Does it matter?" Yata's golden eyes never left his form and Fushimi could practically feel the heat of the smaller man's stare burning into his flesh.

  "Not in the least." He answered whilst opening the refrigerator, bending slowly to examine the contents. Guess Yata wasn't going to be making dinner tonight. Quick footsteps sounded behind him and he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. It was just too easy.

Sure fingers wrapped themselves around Fushimi's upper arm and spun him around. "Oi asshole! You not even going to apologize?"

Fushimi jerked free and pinned his lover with an icy glare. "Apologize for doing my job? I think not."
"But you-!"

"We've discussed this Misaki so please don't go acting as if this wouldn't happen one day. We each decided that we would continue serving our separate clans. Are you telling me that if (bar guy) gave you orders that interfered with Scepter 4 you would ignore it?"

Watching Yata's anger wane was like watching a balloon deflate. "I- I don't-"

"You don't know?" he countered, invading the red-heads personal space and crowding him against the counter. "Well I do. You'd follow those orders because that's who you are. The ever loyal pawn who'd serve his king until death. Destroying all who stand in your path with that idiosyncratic flare of yours." Leaning forward, Fushimi let his lips brush against Yata's ear. "Even me... Eh, Misaki?"
           It had all fled him now, that anger that fueled his violence. Fushimi could feel the exact moment that it dissipated from the way the smaller man's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Saru..." Yata began and it sounded small compared to his usual ecstatic outburst.

           "That is what I admire in you the most." Fushimi finished and pulled away before Yata's insecurities could twist his words in a negative way. He stared down at him and was met with wide eyes that were warm and welcoming, no longer darkened with the heat of Yata's ire.

           Full lips stuck out in a purse and a light blush stole its way across the bridge of Misaki's nose. "You admire me?"

           "Do not let that go to your head. It's already oversized."

"Hey!" Yata screeched and punched Fushimi's shoulder but it was a half-hearted blow and a grin was curving the corners of the Vanguards mouth only to disappear as quickly as it had come when he became serious again. "I'm sorry for breaking your favorite plate. I promise to try and keep our work lives out on the streets. I can't say I won't get pissed again when something like this happened. I know I'm hotheaded and difficult sometimes and –don't roll your eyes!" he groused. "Anyway...I will try because I want this to work Saru, more than anything. I want us to work."

Fushimi grinned slightly because there were words that he'd thought he would never hear and they were coming from the one person he'd desired above all others. It was a haughty feeling. "I do too Misaki. And I will try to do the same. As for the plate, well..." he trailed off and, and without warning, bent down and lifted Yata into his arms, forcing the small man to cling on with his legs wrapped about his waist. "You can make up for that right now."  

     Yata cursed him all the way back to their bedroom but words spoken through a smile and nothing had ever sounded so sweet.