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scriveynerTitle: Fragile & Dear
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Babyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 5560
Summary: Babies!
“I'm going to be a prince when I grow up,” Keiko said with determination, climbing up into her chair. She set her magical girl wand – a Christmas gift from Mari that Gotou had thoroughly vetted to ensure it did not give off any manner of electric shock or have hidden explosives – on the table and kicked her dangling feet. Gotou set his coffee mug down and raised an eyebrow at her and she jutted her chin defiantly at him, daring him to say anything against her newest career path. “Keiko,” Gotou said firmly. “What have I said about weapons on the breakfast table?” “It's not a weapon,” she said obstinately. “It's a magic wand.” She picked the toy up and tapped it against the table, clearly plastic.
“She has a point,” Masayoshi called from the kitchen, and Gotou snorted.
“Anything that comes from Mari is classified as a weapon,” he responded. “Off the table, Keiko.”
“Nekotan isn't a weapon,” she said, but acknowledged the battle was lost and picked up the magical girl wand, leaning over and setting it so it leaned against her chair. It slid out of her grasp and clattered to the floor, and Keiko glared at it sullenly but quickly forgot about it when Masayoshi arrived with her breakfast, setting it on the table before her.
“I don't know, that stuffed cat has seen its fair share of use as a n offensive weapon ,” Gotou put both of his hands around his coffee mug and squinted at Masayoshi. “Are you still off work?”
“I'm on break,” Masayoshi said, clearing Gotou's empty plates before he had the forethought to stop Masayoshi. “Since I have to go overseas later on in the month.” Masayoshi cleared some of Masanori's plates as well – Masanori was ignoring everyone, one of the older issues of Jump open on the table before him. He was studying the pictures with the single-minded intensity of someone not yet able to read the speech bubbles.
“Isn't there any way you can get out of that?”
“It's a world summit meeting,” Masayoshi reminded him. “They can't all be held in Japan.”
“You're just a figurehead anyway, what's it matter that you're there?” Gotou knew exactly why it mattered, and he was just being petulant about it. He really hated it when Masayoshi had to travel overseas without him to keep an eye on things. At least the kids were now old enough to not be a screaming mess about it now; one time when Masayoshi left on a trip Masanori cried for two days straight and Gotou's mother had to stay over to help.
“It's just a couple of weeks,” Masayoshi said. “It'll go by quick, I'll be back before you know it.”
Masanori lifted his head. He squinted his eyes, and looked at Masayoshi much the same way that Gotou had. “Daddy?”
“What is it, little bird?” Masayoshi had moved back into the kitchen, running water over the dishes in the sink, but he could still see Masanori over the low bar that separated the kitchen area from the dining room.
“I'm going with you.”
“Not just yet,” Masayoshi said. “Maybe someday you can come with me, but you're still too little.”
Gotou tried to stifle his smile as Masanori scowled. “I am not little,” he said defensively. He scrambled up, pushing off the table and balancing on his booster seat expertly. “I'm going with you!”
“Masanori, sit down,” Gotou said mildly.
Masayoshi shook the excess water off his hands and swooped around the bar in a smooth motion, sweeping Masanori off his feet before he could topple over backwards in his chair. Masanori protested loudly as Masayoshi swung him upside-down, and he flailed his arms above his head. “No faiiiiir!”
“You can't come with me until you're too big for me to swing you,” Masayoshi said teasingly, and tickled Masanori's bare feet with one hand, the other secure around his legs. Masanori shrieked and squirmed, and Gotou sighed amused into his coffee. He glanced back at Keiko, who was watching the spectacle with an intense expression on her face. Gotou shook his head and then stood up from the table.
“All the blood's rushing to his head,” he reminded Masayoshi as he went the long way around the table, and Masayoshi stuck his tongue out at Gotou.
“Lemme down lemme down lemme DOWN ,” Masanori wailed between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.
“I've got to head to work,” Gotou said, leaning down to kiss Keiko's head as he passed her.
“Bye Dad,” she said, her mouth full.
“You're at the main precinct today, right?” Masayoshi said, setting Masanori upright, back in his booster seat. Masanori slumped forward, arms on his volume of jump, face red and chest heaving, still giggling. Gotou ruffled his already spiked-silly hair, and then kissed Masayoshi. “We'll come get you for lunch.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Gotou said. “I'll see you later.”
#
Gotou closed the door to his apartment and groaned loudly, popping the buttons on his work coat as he did so. “It's cold as hell again,” he called to Masayoshi, who he could see hunched over in the main room of the apartment. “Maybe we should forget about going out tonight, stay in and-”
Whatever plans he was about to elaborate on died abruptly on his lips as Masayoshi whirled around and shushed him severely from the other side of the apartment. Gotou closed his mouth, blinked, and then left his shoes beside the door, sliding the heavy winter coat he wore for work off. “Don't shush me, Masayoshi, what the hell?”
“Shut up,” Masayoshi said urgently. “You'll wake them, Gotou-san, I finally got them to go to sleep-!”
He hesitated a moment as Gotou hung his jacket on the peg. “'Them'?” he repeated, running through all the possible scenarios and alighting upon kittens. “What have I told you about picking up strays ?”
Maybe it was that married life had dulled his instincts and muted those mental alarms when it came to the exact words that came out of Masayoshi's mouth – or maybe it was the fact that it had been well over a year since anything ridiculous and inexplicable had occurred and the universe had a lot of catching up to do – whatever the reason, Gotou still managed to be blindsided by this. He stopped in the doorway that partitioned the main room from the kitchen area and stared as Masayoshi tucked a blanket around a tiny sleeping child. There was another one, much smaller, sleeping on the bed – this one on its back, blankets cleared safely away. Masayoshi looked up at Gotou and beamed. “I can explain,” he said, and sat back on his knees. “I think.”
#
“Why didn't you call the police? ”
“I did, Gotou-san, didn't you look at your phone-?”
“Idiot, I meant-” Gotou's voice, kept at a low tone, faltered a moment in sheer exasperation.
“Aren't you the police, though?”
“Stop being difficult, Masayoshi, you know what I meant.”
Masayoshi stood in the kitchen and fiddled with the note in his hands. At his feet was the big wicker basket that the babies were left in, cleared out of blankets. “It says that they're ours.”
“And you believe a note left by a stranger who, incidentally, left two infants in a basket in front of an apartment door in the middle of winter?”
Masayoshi stared at him, his grey-blue eyes full of determination. Gotou sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over the bottom of his face, in need of several shots of hard liquor and a cigarette. There were infants in his apartment, what the hell was he supposed to do? “Masayoshi, they are not ours. That's ridiculous. And you're not keeping them, stop making that face at me, these are not some strays that you found on your way home, they are somebody's children, for god's sake.”
This time, it was Masayoshi's turn to sigh. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked back through the open door to the main room, where the two children slept peacefully. “I know,” he said mournfully. “But – it's nice to think, isn't it? If we had kids....”
Gotou had never seen such a wistful expression on Masayoshi's face. This was something that had never even come up in a discussion, because – well, they were men , it wasn't something that they would ever have to worry about. “Masayoshi,” Gotou said, his voice gentle. “Maybe someday, all right? We can look at adoption, or something. But we have to find out who they belong to and get them home.”
“All right,” Masayoshi said, still not looking at Gotou. “You're right. But that person left them with me , I'm going to look after them until we find where they're supposed to be.”
He was afraid of this. “We're not equipped to look after children.”
“I can buy everything we need!” Masayoshi's voice had risen slightly with his determination. “A crib, diapers, food, toys- I can take care of it all!”
“I just don't think that's a good idea- ” Gotou's voice had risen to match Masayoshi's tone, and the baby in direct line of sight, the tiny one sleeping on the bed squirmed and made a noise that edged into a little bit of a panicked cry. Masayoshi's eyes widened and he was across the room in an instant, scooping the baby off the bed and into his arms.
“Hush, hush, baby,” Masayoshi murmured, rocking the child in his arms. Gotou stood in the doorway and watched him, a gnawing worry in his stomach. This, he thought, is not going to end well.
#
“Keiko, where is your scarf?” Masayoshi said as he put a hat firmly on Masanori's head. Masanori glared up at him and tugged on either side of the hat's trailing strings, meant to tie in place under his chin. It was his favorite winter hat, reddish-orange in color, with fox ears on top and pom poms dangling at the end of the strings for him to hold on to.
“Princes don't wear scarves,” Keiko announced airily, sitting on the step at the genkan to pull on her boots by herself.
“You're not a prince yet, sweetheart,” Masayoshi said absently, checking the messenger bag he wore to make sure he had picked up his cell phone and not left it on the kitchen counter again. “Put your scarf on, it's cold.”
“No!”
Masayoshi stopped and glanced down at her – she glared up at him with large, stubborn eyes, and Masayoshi suddenly had a preview of what ten years down the line would bring. “I'm training , and princes don't wear scarves!”
Masanori pulled on the strings on his hat and said, “Yeah, they do.”
Keiko turned her glare on his brother. “No they don't!”
He fiddled with the strands. “Yeah they do, the prince in my book wears a scarf! He's awesome,” Masanori told Masayoshi conspiratorially.
“That's not a scarf , stupid 'nori, that's a cape!”
“Hey now,” Masayoshi said. “Don't call your brother stupid, Keiko.” He crouched down before her, so that they were at eye-level. “Princes might not always wear scarves, but sometimes they do. When they're undercover!”
“Undercover?” Keiko repeated warily, sensing a trap but taking the bait anyway.
“Well, princes can't just walk around in a city by themselves, you know,” Masayoshi said, and nodded. “They're kinda like superheroes that way – if everyone knew they were there, people would come up to them constantly asking the prince to go on quests, to save a farm or slay a dragon, or they might even attack him!” Keiko's eyes had gotten very big at this thought, and Masayoshi nodded. “So they have to go undercover, and when they do, they always wear a scarf.” Masayoshi tugged his own scarf up over his nose illustratively. “See?”
Keiko looked over at Masanori, whose eyes had gotten big as well, nodding along automatically with Masayoshi's reasoning. “I'll practice being an undercover prince!” Keiko said, and Masayoshi straightened, fetching her scarf off its peg and breathing out a sigh of relief.
It was very cold out – cold and grey and gloomy, but lacking in precipitation. They could have taken a cab but it was not a tremendous distance to walk and take the train, and the kids needed the exercise – or perhaps, more truthfully Masayoshi needed them to wear out a bit before they got home, because Keiko was outgrowing her naps and started sitting up in her bed and playing with her stuffed animals instead of sleeping. It was just about time to move Keiko into her own room and separate them, because her refusal to nap meant that Masanori would force himself to stay awake with her, and that led to a very grumpy toddler by early evening.
Some of the pedestrians smiled and greeted Masayoshi as he passed – but they were respectful and did not stop him. If he was out with his children people would let him be; but god help him if he tried to walk anywhere alone, he would be swarmed. He really missed the walks he used to take with Gotou, and he missed being able to patrol – but it was a trade-off that he had accepted when he decided that he'd do the most good in this 'world president' position, figurehead or not.
Masayoshi smiled to himself when the thought about meeting Gotou at the station; going to lunch with him at one of the many small restaurants that dotted the street the main precinct office was on – just the four of them, like a normal family. They wouldn't be able to do this sort of thing much longer, Keiko would start elementary school in the spring. It was a nice thought, and fleeting, as Masanori tugged on his hand and he looked down at his son.
“Daddy ,” Masanori said, and the sound of brakes squealing cut off the rest of what he said.
#
Gotou stared at the man behind the desk – he had short gray hair and glasses, and an exhausted expression on his face. “That's impossible,” Gotou said, his mouth dry. “It's – that is literally impossible, the tests have to be wrong.”
He got the call while he was at work – Masayoshi had put his cellphone number on the form, not his own, and had to be excused, but given that this somewhat pertained to the investigation it was easy enough. He had been against the thought of doing the testing, because no matter what Masayoshi was going to end up being disappointed by the results, but he was just so certain that Gotou couldn't say no. He had a hard enough time saying no to Masayoshi in any context, and he worried a little that Masayoshi had figured this out.
It was a little perplexing that the testing office wanted him to come in, instead of giving him the negative results over the phone, but sometimes there were important reasons for it, like the one he was getting right now, as this doctor tried to explain how the process worked for the third time. “We thought that it was an anomaly as well,” he said, and rubbed his face. “We cross-tested and reran the tests several times, and every time, they came back this way.”
“It's impossible, there's got to be a mistake somewhere,” Gotou said slowly. “Run it again.”
“We can run the test as many times as you want, but there's no mistaking the DNA,” the doctor said. “Somehow, these children are biologically both yours and Hazama-san's.” He ran his hand back through his hair and offered Gotou a weak smile. “Congratulations?”
#
Masayoshi was standing in the kitchen and stirring a bubbling pot, Keiko tucked securely against his hip. Gotou closed the door behind himself and stood there a moment, looking at them, as Masayoshi murmured something to the baby at his side, and then turned around and beamed at Gotou. “Welcome home!”
“When did you become a housewife?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi's brow furrowed.
“I'm not a housewife,” he said. “I guess I could be a househusband, though!”
Gotou rubbed his hand down his face and took a deep breath, before leaning over to take his shoes off in the genkan. “I've got news,” he said, and held up the manila envelop he had carried tucked under his arm. He saw Masayoshi stiffen, his face going pale.
“Not until after dinner?” Masayoshi asked, his voice small. Keiko, sensing Masayoshi's distress, began to cry.
“I don't think that this should wait,” Gotou said gently, and Masayoshi nodded miserably, shifting Keiko to both arms and trying unsuccessfully to soothe her. Gotou surprised himself, walking forward and taking Keiko from Masayoshi's arms. She stopped crying out of sheer confusion, because it was always Masayoshi who held them, who walked them around and tried to calm them down – she looked up at Gotou's face, her tiny eyes crinkling as she tried to decide what was going on.
His....
Masayoshi grinned a watery grin at Gotou, and squeezed his arm. “Can't we just pretend?” Masayoshi asked him. “I know that they need to go back to their families, but....”
“I told you it was a bad idea to keep them here,” Gotou said, and handed Masayoshi the manila envelope. “Besides, wouldn't a hero of justice be single-minded about locating the parents of lost children?”
“You're right,” Masayoshi said softly. He held the envelope in his hands uncertainly, and then turned the heat under the pot down, walking into the main room of the apartment to sit on the edge of Gotou's bed while he opened the envelope.
The apartment felt entirely different after only three weeks – there was a crib now, at the foot of the bed – big enough to accommodate two babies, where Masanori lay right now, sleeping on his back, tiny little baby tummy peeking out from under his shirt, fist curled against his mouth. Masayoshi looked over at the crib fondly, and then back to Gotou, who watched silently as Masayoshi opened the envelope.
#
Three things happened in very quick succession.
A nondescript white van slammed to a halt in the intersection that they were approaching to cross. Keiko stopped running ahead, startled, and looked back toward Masayoshi, her eyes wide and alarmed.
Masayoshi scooped Masanori into his arms before the toddler could even make a noise of confusion, setting him back against his hip and angled away from any potential danger. Keiko was out of his reach, too far ahead to grab easily and run.
Two large men dressed all in black, with black sunglasses and brimmed ball caps unfolded out of the van as if they had all the time in the world. The handful of pedestrians on the street scattered, although if Masayoshi looked he would wager that some further away were whipping out cell phones to film.
They had discussed this, at length – Masayoshi, you're a hero, you're a politician, technically – you're a target now, people know your face – and maybe it had been a lingering aftereffect of his subconscious will for peace that there had been no trouble before now. There was a security detail Ishihara had insisted on for sheer peace of mind, but they stayed far away, they were not visibly present and there was no way that they would arrive in time to be of any assistance right now.
“Keiko!” Masayoshi shouted authoritatively, but before she could backpedal the closest man caught her by the back of her jacket, scooping her into his arms, her back pressed to his chest. The second man, smaller, skinnier, but no less intimidating approached Masayoshi calmly.
“We'll do this quietly,” he said smoothly, his hands open, palms-up – no weapons. “And no one will get hurt that way, Hazama-san.”
“Shit!”
The first man's shout of pain drew both their attention – Keiko had bitten down on his forearm, kicking angrily – he tore his arm free and swore again. She struggled under his single arm before slamming both of her heels back into the approximate are of his groin.
Masayoshi would have winced in sympathy but he was already moving, taking advantage of the second man's distraction. He had a baby on his hip, held back and away but he had muscle memory and training, and this man was between him and his daughter. He went straight for the throat.
His opponent turned as he sensed the movement, but he didn't have enough time to entirely block Masayoshi's open-handed strike.
The guy's glasses flew off as his hands covered his throat, retching, still on his feet somehow. “Keep your head in!” Masayoshi barked at Masanori, who was curled up tight to him, hands clutched in his jacket as Masayoshi pivoted on one foot. The snap-kick put the man face-down on the pavement, breathing brokenly.
“Daddy!” Keiko shrieked, having untangled herself from the first assailant. She ran to Masayoshi, who slung Masanori to the ground. Masanori stumbled a few steps and grabbed onto Keiko, eyes wide and terrifed.
“Take your brother,” he said, and Keiko grabbed on to Masanori with both hands. “Stay behind me, both of you!”
The first man had gotten to his feet slowly, blood streaked down his arm from Keiko's bite. “You made a big mistake,” he snarled, holding a knife in one hand, and murder in his eyes.
“Not as big as the one you're about to make,” Masayoshi said, taking a defensive position. “I won't tell you twice. Leave. ”
#
Mari said, “you have got to be kidding me.”
Moe knelt on the blanket and tickled the bottom of Masanori's feet. He did his fat baby wriggle and kicked his feet, watching Moe with an intense expression. She smiled and hummed and tickled his feet again, trying to coax a laugh out of him. Keiko sat on the floor in front of Mizuki, scooting a car around on the tile and making motor noises while Mizuki tried to put her short dark hair into pigtails.
“Mari-chan,” Moe said, delighted, just as Masanori laughed. He caught his foot and held it, waving around int the air, and then laughed again as Moe gently tickled his belly. “Look at him, Mari-chan, he's so adorable and tiny!”
The low table that Gotou had used for pretty much everything had been pushed aside, sitting against the front of the clothing closet opposite his bed. He was sitting with his back to the table, and Mari sat on the floor beside him. “Kids are so gross ,” Mari said.
“That's funny, I swore that you told me once you were great with kids,” Gotou said, bemused, and Mari glared at him.
“That was told in confidence! ”
“Yeah, sure it was.” Gotou said, and then unfolded his legs, straightening one and nudging Masayoshi in the back with his foot. “'yoshi, remember when Mari tried to break us up?”
“I never tried to break you up! I've always supported you!”
Masayoshi slid the toy car back across the tile to Keiko, who laughed and flung it back so hard it bounced a little. “Which time?”
“I never- !”
“Mari-chan, I want a baby,” Moe interrupted, holding Masanori. He made a gurgling noise and reached for a strand of Moe's hair that dangled about her face. “He's so cute !”
“He's not going to be cute forever,” Mari muttered darkly.
“Yes he will, he looks like Masayoshi.” Gotou nudged Masayoshi again with his foot, and Mari actually physically recoiled.
“Gross, you did not just say that.” She looked at the table behind them, counting the bottles quietly. “How many drinks have you had ?”
“You should hear him talk to Keiko when he thinks I can't hear him, it's really sweet,” Masayoshi said and glanced over his shoulder at Gotou and beamed as Gotou turned an impressive shade of pink.
“Traitor,” Gotou muttered, as Mari made a gagging sound.
Mizuki tugged on the tiny little poofs of pigtails she made out of Keiko's dark hair. “You are so adorable ,” she said. Keiko tilted back to squint up at Mizuki, and held the car out she had been pushing around the floor. Then she leaned forward and slammed it, upside-down, onto the tile while making a noise that sounded suspiciously like an explosion.
“Oh my,” Moe said, bouncing Masanori in her arms. “I think someone needs a diaper change!”
Mari sighed and shook her head as Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet. “I am never, ever, ever babysitting these brats, so don't even ask. I don't do diaper duty.”
“What makes you even think we'd want to leave you with them unsupervised anyway?” Gotou asked, and Mari punched him in the arm.
#
“DADDY!” Masanori yelled as soon as he spotted Gotou, and ran across the hospital's corridor and straight into Gotou's waiting arms. He clung to Gotou like a lifeline, and Gotou hugged him tight, letting Masanori tremble against him as he got to his feet.
“Shh, shh,” Gotou soothed as he crossed the hallway to where the waiting room chairs were situated. Keiko stood up on her chair as Gotou approached, and he smiled at her before glancing over. “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he said to Mari, who was seated in the chair next to Keiko's.
“You owe me,” she said, but there was no malice in her undertone. “Besides, it was the perfect excuse to get out early and I got to hear all about the squirt's first nutshot firsthand.”
“I kicked ass!” Keiko announced excitedly.
“No,” Masanori said without lifting his face from Gotou's chest.
“Yes I did!”
“Shh,” Gotou said, jogging Masanori against him slightly. “I can hear all about it later. Where's Masayoshi?”
“Still getting patched up,” Mari said, as Keiko sat back down and sulked a little. “Hey squirt, don't pout. You stomped a guy's nuts today, that's a milestone.”
Gotou sighed and rubbed Masanori's back. “You've got to stay out here with Mari-neechan, okay?” he said. “I'm going to go see daddy.”
“Daddy's okay, right?” Keiko asked, suddenly worried.
“He's fine,” Gotou said. “For now.”
#
“Masayoshi!”
Masayoshi winced as the nurse looked up from cleaning the wounds on his arm. “Hm, seems like you're in trouble, Hazama-san,” she said, before resuming her work. Masayoshi sighed as he heard Gotou get into an argument outside the room with what was probably the doctor, and another nurse.
“Yeah, just a little.” He winced again at the rough-gentle texture as she dabbed the dried blood away from the open wound
“Masayoshi, what in the godforsaken hell- ” Gotou shouted as he finally slammed into the room.
The nurse looked up at Gotou severely, and spoke sternly. “There are very ill people in this ward, please do not yell , officer.” Masayoshi raised both of his eyebrows and gave Gotou a watery smile over the nurse's head.
Gotou tugged on the bottom of his uniform jacket and took a deep breath. “What the hell happened?” he asked, in a more level and controlled tone of voice.
“I only got stabbed twice!” Masayoshi said helpfully.
“Three times,” the nurse said. “Twice in the arm and once in the side.”
A sour expression crossed Masayoshi's face, and then he sighed and glanced back to Gotou. “Breathe,” he said automatically at Gotou's expression. “I'm fine, Hidenori, I promise I'm fine – you should have seen Keiko, she did wonderfully -”
“Who did this?” Gotou asked quietly, standing before the hospital bed Masayoshi was seated on.
“Doesn't really matter now, does it?” Masayoshi said. “You guys have the two of them in custody, the driver might have gotten away but I don't think that they're gonna try anything quite that stupid ever again.” He inhaled quickly as the nurse dabbed at his arm.
“Stop twitching, Hazama-san,” she said, and then straightened, glancing between the two men. “I'll be back in a minute to do the stitches, don't move that arm while I'm gone, Hazama-san.”
“Yes'm,” Masayoshi said obediently, as she left. He exhaled another breath. “I hate getting stitches.” He smiled at Gotou again. “I'm fine, please stop giving me that look.”
Masayoshi shifted on the bed, sliding aside so that Gotou could come over and sit next to him. He very carefully put his arm across Masayoshi's bare shoulder and tilted their heads together, then put his hand carefully over the clean white bandages wrapped tightly across Masayoshi's abdomen.
“Don't scare me like that,” he said softly.
“I bet Totsuka-san locked you in a room until they figured out what was going on, huh?” Masayoshi said lightly, and Gotou sighed deeply.
“Without my phone, even. And I walked right in there like an idiot, too.” He brushed his fingers through Masayoshi's hair. “It was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”
“You would have rushed out that door to find me without a second thought,” Masayoshi smiled. “I love how protective you are, that's so romantic.” He looked down at the wounds on his arm. “Did I kill either of them?”
“No.”
“I would have.”
Gotou swallowed, and then nodded his head. “I know.”
#
“It was Valentine's Day, I think,” Masayoshi said drowsily. He was reclining on the couch, his bandaged arm in a sling resting on his chest. The kids had been bundled off to stay overnight with Mari and Moe, despite Masayoshi's protests that he was fine. He watched Gotou wash the dishes from over the back of the couch from his position – he was supervising to an extent, but he was quiet sleepy due to the medicine that the hospital had prescribed.
“What was Valentine's Day?” Gotou asked absently.
“Do you remember?” Masayoshi murmured. “I had a shoot on Valentine's Day, so we couldn't do anything romantic, instead you came with me and we stayed in that nice hotel with the huge tub.”
“The one you tried to flood out.”
“Yes! That one.” Masayoshi rubbed his nose with his uninjured hand. “That's when I thought about them. When we were, there, when you did that-” he blushed and waved both arms in the air, one much higher than the bandaged one still ensconced in its sling. “That , that – when you-”
Gotou turned off the running water. “You thought about having kids? Then? ”
“Well.” Masayoshi dropped his free arm over his face. “If I was a woman you would have gotten me pregnant like, four different times that night. I couldn't help but think how great it would be to have your kids, okay?”
Gotou leaned over the back of the couch and tugged at Masayoshi's sleeve. Masayoshi slid his arm down enough so his eyes were visible, blue-grey and sleepy. “I'm glad that you did.”
Masayoshi smiled. “Me too.”
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Babyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 5560
Summary: Babies!
“I'm going to be a prince when I grow up,” Keiko said with determination, climbing up into her chair. She set her magical girl wand – a Christmas gift from Mari that Gotou had thoroughly vetted to ensure it did not give off any manner of electric shock or have hidden explosives – on the table and kicked her dangling feet. Gotou set his coffee mug down and raised an eyebrow at her and she jutted her chin defiantly at him, daring him to say anything against her newest career path. “Keiko,” Gotou said firmly. “What have I said about weapons on the breakfast table?” “It's not a weapon,” she said obstinately. “It's a magic wand.” She picked the toy up and tapped it against the table, clearly plastic.
“She has a point,” Masayoshi called from the kitchen, and Gotou snorted.
“Anything that comes from Mari is classified as a weapon,” he responded. “Off the table, Keiko.”
“Nekotan isn't a weapon,” she said, but acknowledged the battle was lost and picked up the magical girl wand, leaning over and setting it so it leaned against her chair. It slid out of her grasp and clattered to the floor, and Keiko glared at it sullenly but quickly forgot about it when Masayoshi arrived with her breakfast, setting it on the table before her.
“I don't know, that stuffed cat has seen its fair share of use as a n offensive weapon ,” Gotou put both of his hands around his coffee mug and squinted at Masayoshi. “Are you still off work?”
“I'm on break,” Masayoshi said, clearing Gotou's empty plates before he had the forethought to stop Masayoshi. “Since I have to go overseas later on in the month.” Masayoshi cleared some of Masanori's plates as well – Masanori was ignoring everyone, one of the older issues of Jump open on the table before him. He was studying the pictures with the single-minded intensity of someone not yet able to read the speech bubbles.
“Isn't there any way you can get out of that?”
“It's a world summit meeting,” Masayoshi reminded him. “They can't all be held in Japan.”
“You're just a figurehead anyway, what's it matter that you're there?” Gotou knew exactly why it mattered, and he was just being petulant about it. He really hated it when Masayoshi had to travel overseas without him to keep an eye on things. At least the kids were now old enough to not be a screaming mess about it now; one time when Masayoshi left on a trip Masanori cried for two days straight and Gotou's mother had to stay over to help.
“It's just a couple of weeks,” Masayoshi said. “It'll go by quick, I'll be back before you know it.”
Masanori lifted his head. He squinted his eyes, and looked at Masayoshi much the same way that Gotou had. “Daddy?”
“What is it, little bird?” Masayoshi had moved back into the kitchen, running water over the dishes in the sink, but he could still see Masanori over the low bar that separated the kitchen area from the dining room.
“I'm going with you.”
“Not just yet,” Masayoshi said. “Maybe someday you can come with me, but you're still too little.”
Gotou tried to stifle his smile as Masanori scowled. “I am not little,” he said defensively. He scrambled up, pushing off the table and balancing on his booster seat expertly. “I'm going with you!”
“Masanori, sit down,” Gotou said mildly.
Masayoshi shook the excess water off his hands and swooped around the bar in a smooth motion, sweeping Masanori off his feet before he could topple over backwards in his chair. Masanori protested loudly as Masayoshi swung him upside-down, and he flailed his arms above his head. “No faiiiiir!”
“You can't come with me until you're too big for me to swing you,” Masayoshi said teasingly, and tickled Masanori's bare feet with one hand, the other secure around his legs. Masanori shrieked and squirmed, and Gotou sighed amused into his coffee. He glanced back at Keiko, who was watching the spectacle with an intense expression on her face. Gotou shook his head and then stood up from the table.
“All the blood's rushing to his head,” he reminded Masayoshi as he went the long way around the table, and Masayoshi stuck his tongue out at Gotou.
“Lemme down lemme down lemme DOWN ,” Masanori wailed between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.
“I've got to head to work,” Gotou said, leaning down to kiss Keiko's head as he passed her.
“Bye Dad,” she said, her mouth full.
“You're at the main precinct today, right?” Masayoshi said, setting Masanori upright, back in his booster seat. Masanori slumped forward, arms on his volume of jump, face red and chest heaving, still giggling. Gotou ruffled his already spiked-silly hair, and then kissed Masayoshi. “We'll come get you for lunch.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Gotou said. “I'll see you later.”
Gotou closed the door to his apartment and groaned loudly, popping the buttons on his work coat as he did so. “It's cold as hell again,” he called to Masayoshi, who he could see hunched over in the main room of the apartment. “Maybe we should forget about going out tonight, stay in and-”
Whatever plans he was about to elaborate on died abruptly on his lips as Masayoshi whirled around and shushed him severely from the other side of the apartment. Gotou closed his mouth, blinked, and then left his shoes beside the door, sliding the heavy winter coat he wore for work off. “Don't shush me, Masayoshi, what the hell?”
“Shut up,” Masayoshi said urgently. “You'll wake them, Gotou-san, I finally got them to go to sleep-!”
He hesitated a moment as Gotou hung his jacket on the peg. “'Them'?” he repeated, running through all the possible scenarios and alighting upon kittens. “What have I told you about picking up strays ?”
Maybe it was that married life had dulled his instincts and muted those mental alarms when it came to the exact words that came out of Masayoshi's mouth – or maybe it was the fact that it had been well over a year since anything ridiculous and inexplicable had occurred and the universe had a lot of catching up to do – whatever the reason, Gotou still managed to be blindsided by this. He stopped in the doorway that partitioned the main room from the kitchen area and stared as Masayoshi tucked a blanket around a tiny sleeping child. There was another one, much smaller, sleeping on the bed – this one on its back, blankets cleared safely away. Masayoshi looked up at Gotou and beamed. “I can explain,” he said, and sat back on his knees. “I think.”
“Why didn't you call the police? ”
“I did, Gotou-san, didn't you look at your phone-?”
“Idiot, I meant-” Gotou's voice, kept at a low tone, faltered a moment in sheer exasperation.
“Aren't you the police, though?”
“Stop being difficult, Masayoshi, you know what I meant.”
Masayoshi stood in the kitchen and fiddled with the note in his hands. At his feet was the big wicker basket that the babies were left in, cleared out of blankets. “It says that they're ours.”
“And you believe a note left by a stranger who, incidentally, left two infants in a basket in front of an apartment door in the middle of winter?”
Masayoshi stared at him, his grey-blue eyes full of determination. Gotou sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over the bottom of his face, in need of several shots of hard liquor and a cigarette. There were infants in his apartment, what the hell was he supposed to do? “Masayoshi, they are not ours. That's ridiculous. And you're not keeping them, stop making that face at me, these are not some strays that you found on your way home, they are somebody's children, for god's sake.”
This time, it was Masayoshi's turn to sigh. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked back through the open door to the main room, where the two children slept peacefully. “I know,” he said mournfully. “But – it's nice to think, isn't it? If we had kids....”
Gotou had never seen such a wistful expression on Masayoshi's face. This was something that had never even come up in a discussion, because – well, they were men , it wasn't something that they would ever have to worry about. “Masayoshi,” Gotou said, his voice gentle. “Maybe someday, all right? We can look at adoption, or something. But we have to find out who they belong to and get them home.”
“All right,” Masayoshi said, still not looking at Gotou. “You're right. But that person left them with me , I'm going to look after them until we find where they're supposed to be.”
He was afraid of this. “We're not equipped to look after children.”
“I can buy everything we need!” Masayoshi's voice had risen slightly with his determination. “A crib, diapers, food, toys- I can take care of it all!”
“I just don't think that's a good idea- ” Gotou's voice had risen to match Masayoshi's tone, and the baby in direct line of sight, the tiny one sleeping on the bed squirmed and made a noise that edged into a little bit of a panicked cry. Masayoshi's eyes widened and he was across the room in an instant, scooping the baby off the bed and into his arms.
“Hush, hush, baby,” Masayoshi murmured, rocking the child in his arms. Gotou stood in the doorway and watched him, a gnawing worry in his stomach. This, he thought, is not going to end well.
“Keiko, where is your scarf?” Masayoshi said as he put a hat firmly on Masanori's head. Masanori glared up at him and tugged on either side of the hat's trailing strings, meant to tie in place under his chin. It was his favorite winter hat, reddish-orange in color, with fox ears on top and pom poms dangling at the end of the strings for him to hold on to.
“Princes don't wear scarves,” Keiko announced airily, sitting on the step at the genkan to pull on her boots by herself.
“You're not a prince yet, sweetheart,” Masayoshi said absently, checking the messenger bag he wore to make sure he had picked up his cell phone and not left it on the kitchen counter again. “Put your scarf on, it's cold.”
“No!”
Masayoshi stopped and glanced down at her – she glared up at him with large, stubborn eyes, and Masayoshi suddenly had a preview of what ten years down the line would bring. “I'm training , and princes don't wear scarves!”
Masanori pulled on the strings on his hat and said, “Yeah, they do.”
Keiko turned her glare on his brother. “No they don't!”
He fiddled with the strands. “Yeah they do, the prince in my book wears a scarf! He's awesome,” Masanori told Masayoshi conspiratorially.
“That's not a scarf , stupid 'nori, that's a cape!”
“Hey now,” Masayoshi said. “Don't call your brother stupid, Keiko.” He crouched down before her, so that they were at eye-level. “Princes might not always wear scarves, but sometimes they do. When they're undercover!”
“Undercover?” Keiko repeated warily, sensing a trap but taking the bait anyway.
“Well, princes can't just walk around in a city by themselves, you know,” Masayoshi said, and nodded. “They're kinda like superheroes that way – if everyone knew they were there, people would come up to them constantly asking the prince to go on quests, to save a farm or slay a dragon, or they might even attack him!” Keiko's eyes had gotten very big at this thought, and Masayoshi nodded. “So they have to go undercover, and when they do, they always wear a scarf.” Masayoshi tugged his own scarf up over his nose illustratively. “See?”
Keiko looked over at Masanori, whose eyes had gotten big as well, nodding along automatically with Masayoshi's reasoning. “I'll practice being an undercover prince!” Keiko said, and Masayoshi straightened, fetching her scarf off its peg and breathing out a sigh of relief.
It was very cold out – cold and grey and gloomy, but lacking in precipitation. They could have taken a cab but it was not a tremendous distance to walk and take the train, and the kids needed the exercise – or perhaps, more truthfully Masayoshi needed them to wear out a bit before they got home, because Keiko was outgrowing her naps and started sitting up in her bed and playing with her stuffed animals instead of sleeping. It was just about time to move Keiko into her own room and separate them, because her refusal to nap meant that Masanori would force himself to stay awake with her, and that led to a very grumpy toddler by early evening.
Some of the pedestrians smiled and greeted Masayoshi as he passed – but they were respectful and did not stop him. If he was out with his children people would let him be; but god help him if he tried to walk anywhere alone, he would be swarmed. He really missed the walks he used to take with Gotou, and he missed being able to patrol – but it was a trade-off that he had accepted when he decided that he'd do the most good in this 'world president' position, figurehead or not.
Masayoshi smiled to himself when the thought about meeting Gotou at the station; going to lunch with him at one of the many small restaurants that dotted the street the main precinct office was on – just the four of them, like a normal family. They wouldn't be able to do this sort of thing much longer, Keiko would start elementary school in the spring. It was a nice thought, and fleeting, as Masanori tugged on his hand and he looked down at his son.
“Daddy ,” Masanori said, and the sound of brakes squealing cut off the rest of what he said.
Gotou stared at the man behind the desk – he had short gray hair and glasses, and an exhausted expression on his face. “That's impossible,” Gotou said, his mouth dry. “It's – that is literally impossible, the tests have to be wrong.”
He got the call while he was at work – Masayoshi had put his cellphone number on the form, not his own, and had to be excused, but given that this somewhat pertained to the investigation it was easy enough. He had been against the thought of doing the testing, because no matter what Masayoshi was going to end up being disappointed by the results, but he was just so certain that Gotou couldn't say no. He had a hard enough time saying no to Masayoshi in any context, and he worried a little that Masayoshi had figured this out.
It was a little perplexing that the testing office wanted him to come in, instead of giving him the negative results over the phone, but sometimes there were important reasons for it, like the one he was getting right now, as this doctor tried to explain how the process worked for the third time. “We thought that it was an anomaly as well,” he said, and rubbed his face. “We cross-tested and reran the tests several times, and every time, they came back this way.”
“It's impossible, there's got to be a mistake somewhere,” Gotou said slowly. “Run it again.”
“We can run the test as many times as you want, but there's no mistaking the DNA,” the doctor said. “Somehow, these children are biologically both yours and Hazama-san's.” He ran his hand back through his hair and offered Gotou a weak smile. “Congratulations?”
Masayoshi was standing in the kitchen and stirring a bubbling pot, Keiko tucked securely against his hip. Gotou closed the door behind himself and stood there a moment, looking at them, as Masayoshi murmured something to the baby at his side, and then turned around and beamed at Gotou. “Welcome home!”
“When did you become a housewife?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi's brow furrowed.
“I'm not a housewife,” he said. “I guess I could be a househusband, though!”
Gotou rubbed his hand down his face and took a deep breath, before leaning over to take his shoes off in the genkan. “I've got news,” he said, and held up the manila envelop he had carried tucked under his arm. He saw Masayoshi stiffen, his face going pale.
“Not until after dinner?” Masayoshi asked, his voice small. Keiko, sensing Masayoshi's distress, began to cry.
“I don't think that this should wait,” Gotou said gently, and Masayoshi nodded miserably, shifting Keiko to both arms and trying unsuccessfully to soothe her. Gotou surprised himself, walking forward and taking Keiko from Masayoshi's arms. She stopped crying out of sheer confusion, because it was always Masayoshi who held them, who walked them around and tried to calm them down – she looked up at Gotou's face, her tiny eyes crinkling as she tried to decide what was going on.
His....
Masayoshi grinned a watery grin at Gotou, and squeezed his arm. “Can't we just pretend?” Masayoshi asked him. “I know that they need to go back to their families, but....”
“I told you it was a bad idea to keep them here,” Gotou said, and handed Masayoshi the manila envelope. “Besides, wouldn't a hero of justice be single-minded about locating the parents of lost children?”
“You're right,” Masayoshi said softly. He held the envelope in his hands uncertainly, and then turned the heat under the pot down, walking into the main room of the apartment to sit on the edge of Gotou's bed while he opened the envelope.
The apartment felt entirely different after only three weeks – there was a crib now, at the foot of the bed – big enough to accommodate two babies, where Masanori lay right now, sleeping on his back, tiny little baby tummy peeking out from under his shirt, fist curled against his mouth. Masayoshi looked over at the crib fondly, and then back to Gotou, who watched silently as Masayoshi opened the envelope.
Three things happened in very quick succession.
A nondescript white van slammed to a halt in the intersection that they were approaching to cross. Keiko stopped running ahead, startled, and looked back toward Masayoshi, her eyes wide and alarmed.
Masayoshi scooped Masanori into his arms before the toddler could even make a noise of confusion, setting him back against his hip and angled away from any potential danger. Keiko was out of his reach, too far ahead to grab easily and run.
Two large men dressed all in black, with black sunglasses and brimmed ball caps unfolded out of the van as if they had all the time in the world. The handful of pedestrians on the street scattered, although if Masayoshi looked he would wager that some further away were whipping out cell phones to film.
They had discussed this, at length – Masayoshi, you're a hero, you're a politician, technically – you're a target now, people know your face – and maybe it had been a lingering aftereffect of his subconscious will for peace that there had been no trouble before now. There was a security detail Ishihara had insisted on for sheer peace of mind, but they stayed far away, they were not visibly present and there was no way that they would arrive in time to be of any assistance right now.
“Keiko!” Masayoshi shouted authoritatively, but before she could backpedal the closest man caught her by the back of her jacket, scooping her into his arms, her back pressed to his chest. The second man, smaller, skinnier, but no less intimidating approached Masayoshi calmly.
“We'll do this quietly,” he said smoothly, his hands open, palms-up – no weapons. “And no one will get hurt that way, Hazama-san.”
“Shit!”
The first man's shout of pain drew both their attention – Keiko had bitten down on his forearm, kicking angrily – he tore his arm free and swore again. She struggled under his single arm before slamming both of her heels back into the approximate are of his groin.
Masayoshi would have winced in sympathy but he was already moving, taking advantage of the second man's distraction. He had a baby on his hip, held back and away but he had muscle memory and training, and this man was between him and his daughter. He went straight for the throat.
His opponent turned as he sensed the movement, but he didn't have enough time to entirely block Masayoshi's open-handed strike.
The guy's glasses flew off as his hands covered his throat, retching, still on his feet somehow. “Keep your head in!” Masayoshi barked at Masanori, who was curled up tight to him, hands clutched in his jacket as Masayoshi pivoted on one foot. The snap-kick put the man face-down on the pavement, breathing brokenly.
“Daddy!” Keiko shrieked, having untangled herself from the first assailant. She ran to Masayoshi, who slung Masanori to the ground. Masanori stumbled a few steps and grabbed onto Keiko, eyes wide and terrifed.
“Take your brother,” he said, and Keiko grabbed on to Masanori with both hands. “Stay behind me, both of you!”
The first man had gotten to his feet slowly, blood streaked down his arm from Keiko's bite. “You made a big mistake,” he snarled, holding a knife in one hand, and murder in his eyes.
“Not as big as the one you're about to make,” Masayoshi said, taking a defensive position. “I won't tell you twice. Leave. ”
Mari said, “you have got to be kidding me.”
Moe knelt on the blanket and tickled the bottom of Masanori's feet. He did his fat baby wriggle and kicked his feet, watching Moe with an intense expression. She smiled and hummed and tickled his feet again, trying to coax a laugh out of him. Keiko sat on the floor in front of Mizuki, scooting a car around on the tile and making motor noises while Mizuki tried to put her short dark hair into pigtails.
“Mari-chan,” Moe said, delighted, just as Masanori laughed. He caught his foot and held it, waving around int the air, and then laughed again as Moe gently tickled his belly. “Look at him, Mari-chan, he's so adorable and tiny!”
The low table that Gotou had used for pretty much everything had been pushed aside, sitting against the front of the clothing closet opposite his bed. He was sitting with his back to the table, and Mari sat on the floor beside him. “Kids are so gross ,” Mari said.
“That's funny, I swore that you told me once you were great with kids,” Gotou said, bemused, and Mari glared at him.
“That was told in confidence! ”
“Yeah, sure it was.” Gotou said, and then unfolded his legs, straightening one and nudging Masayoshi in the back with his foot. “'yoshi, remember when Mari tried to break us up?”
“I never tried to break you up! I've always supported you!”
Masayoshi slid the toy car back across the tile to Keiko, who laughed and flung it back so hard it bounced a little. “Which time?”
“I never- !”
“Mari-chan, I want a baby,” Moe interrupted, holding Masanori. He made a gurgling noise and reached for a strand of Moe's hair that dangled about her face. “He's so cute !”
“He's not going to be cute forever,” Mari muttered darkly.
“Yes he will, he looks like Masayoshi.” Gotou nudged Masayoshi again with his foot, and Mari actually physically recoiled.
“Gross, you did not just say that.” She looked at the table behind them, counting the bottles quietly. “How many drinks have you had ?”
“You should hear him talk to Keiko when he thinks I can't hear him, it's really sweet,” Masayoshi said and glanced over his shoulder at Gotou and beamed as Gotou turned an impressive shade of pink.
“Traitor,” Gotou muttered, as Mari made a gagging sound.
Mizuki tugged on the tiny little poofs of pigtails she made out of Keiko's dark hair. “You are so adorable ,” she said. Keiko tilted back to squint up at Mizuki, and held the car out she had been pushing around the floor. Then she leaned forward and slammed it, upside-down, onto the tile while making a noise that sounded suspiciously like an explosion.
“Oh my,” Moe said, bouncing Masanori in her arms. “I think someone needs a diaper change!”
Mari sighed and shook her head as Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet. “I am never, ever, ever babysitting these brats, so don't even ask. I don't do diaper duty.”
“What makes you even think we'd want to leave you with them unsupervised anyway?” Gotou asked, and Mari punched him in the arm.
“DADDY!” Masanori yelled as soon as he spotted Gotou, and ran across the hospital's corridor and straight into Gotou's waiting arms. He clung to Gotou like a lifeline, and Gotou hugged him tight, letting Masanori tremble against him as he got to his feet.
“Shh, shh,” Gotou soothed as he crossed the hallway to where the waiting room chairs were situated. Keiko stood up on her chair as Gotou approached, and he smiled at her before glancing over. “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he said to Mari, who was seated in the chair next to Keiko's.
“You owe me,” she said, but there was no malice in her undertone. “Besides, it was the perfect excuse to get out early and I got to hear all about the squirt's first nutshot firsthand.”
“I kicked ass!” Keiko announced excitedly.
“No,” Masanori said without lifting his face from Gotou's chest.
“Yes I did!”
“Shh,” Gotou said, jogging Masanori against him slightly. “I can hear all about it later. Where's Masayoshi?”
“Still getting patched up,” Mari said, as Keiko sat back down and sulked a little. “Hey squirt, don't pout. You stomped a guy's nuts today, that's a milestone.”
Gotou sighed and rubbed Masanori's back. “You've got to stay out here with Mari-neechan, okay?” he said. “I'm going to go see daddy.”
“Daddy's okay, right?” Keiko asked, suddenly worried.
“He's fine,” Gotou said. “For now.”
“Masayoshi!”
Masayoshi winced as the nurse looked up from cleaning the wounds on his arm. “Hm, seems like you're in trouble, Hazama-san,” she said, before resuming her work. Masayoshi sighed as he heard Gotou get into an argument outside the room with what was probably the doctor, and another nurse.
“Yeah, just a little.” He winced again at the rough-gentle texture as she dabbed the dried blood away from the open wound
“Masayoshi, what in the godforsaken hell- ” Gotou shouted as he finally slammed into the room.
The nurse looked up at Gotou severely, and spoke sternly. “There are very ill people in this ward, please do not yell , officer.” Masayoshi raised both of his eyebrows and gave Gotou a watery smile over the nurse's head.
Gotou tugged on the bottom of his uniform jacket and took a deep breath. “What the hell happened?” he asked, in a more level and controlled tone of voice.
“I only got stabbed twice!” Masayoshi said helpfully.
“Three times,” the nurse said. “Twice in the arm and once in the side.”
A sour expression crossed Masayoshi's face, and then he sighed and glanced back to Gotou. “Breathe,” he said automatically at Gotou's expression. “I'm fine, Hidenori, I promise I'm fine – you should have seen Keiko, she did wonderfully -”
“Who did this?” Gotou asked quietly, standing before the hospital bed Masayoshi was seated on.
“Doesn't really matter now, does it?” Masayoshi said. “You guys have the two of them in custody, the driver might have gotten away but I don't think that they're gonna try anything quite that stupid ever again.” He inhaled quickly as the nurse dabbed at his arm.
“Stop twitching, Hazama-san,” she said, and then straightened, glancing between the two men. “I'll be back in a minute to do the stitches, don't move that arm while I'm gone, Hazama-san.”
“Yes'm,” Masayoshi said obediently, as she left. He exhaled another breath. “I hate getting stitches.” He smiled at Gotou again. “I'm fine, please stop giving me that look.”
Masayoshi shifted on the bed, sliding aside so that Gotou could come over and sit next to him. He very carefully put his arm across Masayoshi's bare shoulder and tilted their heads together, then put his hand carefully over the clean white bandages wrapped tightly across Masayoshi's abdomen.
“Don't scare me like that,” he said softly.
“I bet Totsuka-san locked you in a room until they figured out what was going on, huh?” Masayoshi said lightly, and Gotou sighed deeply.
“Without my phone, even. And I walked right in there like an idiot, too.” He brushed his fingers through Masayoshi's hair. “It was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”
“You would have rushed out that door to find me without a second thought,” Masayoshi smiled. “I love how protective you are, that's so romantic.” He looked down at the wounds on his arm. “Did I kill either of them?”
“No.”
“I would have.”
Gotou swallowed, and then nodded his head. “I know.”
“It was Valentine's Day, I think,” Masayoshi said drowsily. He was reclining on the couch, his bandaged arm in a sling resting on his chest. The kids had been bundled off to stay overnight with Mari and Moe, despite Masayoshi's protests that he was fine. He watched Gotou wash the dishes from over the back of the couch from his position – he was supervising to an extent, but he was quiet sleepy due to the medicine that the hospital had prescribed.
“What was Valentine's Day?” Gotou asked absently.
“Do you remember?” Masayoshi murmured. “I had a shoot on Valentine's Day, so we couldn't do anything romantic, instead you came with me and we stayed in that nice hotel with the huge tub.”
“The one you tried to flood out.”
“Yes! That one.” Masayoshi rubbed his nose with his uninjured hand. “That's when I thought about them. When we were, there, when you did that-” he blushed and waved both arms in the air, one much higher than the bandaged one still ensconced in its sling. “That , that – when you-”
Gotou turned off the running water. “You thought about having kids? Then? ”
“Well.” Masayoshi dropped his free arm over his face. “If I was a woman you would have gotten me pregnant like, four different times that night. I couldn't help but think how great it would be to have your kids, okay?”
Gotou leaned over the back of the couch and tugged at Masayoshi's sleeve. Masayoshi slid his arm down enough so his eyes were visible, blue-grey and sleepy. “I'm glad that you did.”
Masayoshi smiled. “Me too.”
