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Hot days in New York feels different than hot days back home. The sun burns relentlessly and the air doesn't move in the slightest, surrounded by tall buildings in every direction. And yet Eiji couldn't refuse Ash's invitation for a stroll through the park; he's used to being outside when it's summer. He's trained in heat waves that were, objectively, worse than this weather. Ash found them a bench in the shade of a large, old tree, and it's bearable. Really. Eiji won't complain.
He fans himself with the palm of his hand and watches Ash walk over with an ice cream cone in each hand. They've both already started to melt, dripping from the cones and onto his hands, and he's busy licking the worst of the mess away, alternating the cones. A familiar shiver runs up Eiji's spine at the sight. He takes a deep inhale and averts his eyes, only looks back up when Ash appears in front of him.
His grin is brighter than the sun. He steps from one foot to the other, like he really needs the bathroom, impatient, and holds one of the cones out for Eiji. “Take it, take it,” he urges. “Before it's more of a milkshake than ice cream.”
Eiji accepts the cone and stands. Together, they walk back in the direction of their hideout, slowly, unhurried. After a few minutes, once they've both finished their cones, Ash reaches out and takes Eiji's hand. He throws Eiji a mischievous grin – his hands are still sticky from the melted ice cream – and Eiji schools his features into seriousness in response, denying Ash the triumph of having grossed him out. He holds on tight and even twines their fingers together, and he catches Ash looking at him sidelong, his expression mellowing out into a fond smile. During their time together, they grew rather attuned to each other, and he must notice that Eiji's giddy about the contact – nervous and excited, all at once. Where he's from, people are much more reserved about touching one another in public; hell, they don't even do it so easily at home, he surely hasn't ever seen his parents exchange more than a quick kiss on the cheek. It's the first time he's done anything like this, too, the first time that his attempts at flirting consisted of more than stolen glances and shy smiles.
Ash squeezes his hand and then starts swinging their joined hands between them, in tune with their leisurely pace – like this isn't anything new, like Eiji's heart isn't beating out of his chest with every step – and starts sprouting random facts about the park.
***
Eiji doesn't ask where Ash goes when he dresses up in any way, either too look younger or older. He can do the math, some times, and other times Ash will throw him a vague explanation like he's going to meet Max for breakfast or he's doing some research. It's not even like Eiji expects Ash would refuse him an answer if he were to ask for details; sparing him is another way in which he tries to protect Eiji from the harsh reality of his world, and Eiji lets him. He'd cope if Ash would tell him, he's sure, but he won't press for it.
This morning, Ash marches out of the bathroom in a bespoke suit that screams money. He twirls for Eiji. “Got some business at the bank,” he says, once again intentionally vague. “Do I look like the son of someone rich and famous?”
Eiji looks him up and down and swallows hard despite himself. Ash looks gorgeous, although that's not the question he was asked. Eiji nods. “You do, you very much do.”
Smoothing out a few nonexistent wrinkles in the expensive fabric, Ash grins. “I'll be back soon. Don't get bored without me."
Eiji rolls his eyes and flips him the bird, and then Ash is out the door.
For a moment, Eiji stays rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door, before he switches on the TV. During the daytime, there's little that's actually interesting to watch, but he doesn't look for an easy distraction, for something to wash over him while he waits and keeps telling himself over and over that he's got nothing to worry about. He pulls out a notepad and writes down a few lines from the news report on one channel, then switches to another, writes down a couple bits of dialogue from a soap opera. He catches the meaning of both, but now he bends over his notebook and translates what he jotted down, word by word. He skips to an older page and translates his notes from last time back from Japanese to English, compares it with what he's scribbled down – rinse and repeat. His English isn't bad, and he's mostly got it right, but lately, he's grown accustomed to the idea that he might stay in America for many years, maybe for the rest of his life – with Ash, he sometimes dares to hope – and he's got to keep improving.
He's back to the soap opera, writing down the next bit of dialog without paying much attention to the context, when Ash returns. Too absorbed in his task, Eiji doesn't really notice his approach; the key rattled in the keyhole, and who else than Ash or his boys should have a key? It might be recklessly naive of him, he realizes on second thought, but it's too late; Ash is already leaning over the back of the couch, his face so close to Eiji's that Eiji can hear him breathe, feel Ash's breath tickle over his cheek.
“That was such a cheesy pickup line,” he comments, nodding at the TV, where it clearly worked just fine – the couple is kissing passionately, the guy dipping the girl a little, and she's gasping, swooning from the romance of it all. “It'd never work on me.”
Eiji glances at his notes to recall the line – you light up my life like the stars in the sky – and blushes involuntarily. “If you said it, it'd work on me,” he confesses, biting his lips almost immediately after he said the words out loud, fearing he's revealed too much. “I mean – “
“It would?” Ash inquires, walking around the couch. He sits down next to Eiji, head cocked, and looks at him in a way Eiji can't quite decipher but that makes the skin on the nape of Eiji's neck tingle with excitement.
Eiji can't help himself and nods.
“You light up my life like the stars in the sky,” Ash sing-songs, and then he tips Eiji's chin up with a light tap of his forefinger, leans in, and kisses him.
They're both the same people, doing the same thing, but the kiss is vastly different from the one in the prison. There's less intent in it, and it feels more hesitant, more gentle. It's spontaneous. They're alone. It doesn't serve a purpose. It's not the same thing at all, and maybe, Eiji muses, they're not even really the same people anymore either.
Much too soon, Ash draws back. He looks away. “I'm sorry. I should have asked. I...”
He doesn't finish that sentence and stands, walks into the bedroom with his hands in his pockets. Eiji opens his mouth to reply, but his mind has gone blank. He knows there's no talking Ash off a mood like this, and if he tries, it might end in another suggestion that it's best Eiji be put on the next plane back to Japan. He puts his notes away and sighs, picking up the remote, this time indeed looking for a distraction.
***
Ash is still and quiet under the blankets by the time Eiji pads into the bedroom hours later, and yet Eiji doesn't expect him to be asleep. When he's sleeping, Ash is noisy, he kicks and cries, struggles and whines. Stillness means he's still awake, pretending that he's not. And Eiji won't let him get away with it, not this time.
He sits down on the bed, making sure it's far enough out from Ash's body that the latter won't feel trapped. He says Ash's name once, repeats it. The blanket rustles, but no acknowledgment comes forth.
“I didn't mind, earlier,” Eiji starts. “The kiss. And I understood why you did it the first time, in prison, too.” He looks down and pats the bed, pinching the edge of the blanket with his fingers. “Ash. Answer me. I know you're not asleep.”
With a groan, Ash finally stirs. He sits up, holding the blanket up in front of his chest with one hand so it doesn't fall away altogether, even though he's still dressed in a wide pajama top and sweatpants. Could be he's cold; could be he's feeling guilty and vulnerable. And if it's the latter, Eiji wants to make that go away, make him feel better.
“I should have asked,” Ash says, glancing at a point near the door. Neither of them is looking at the other. “If it's okay. I shouldn't have assumed.”
Eiji smiles at him. “It's okay. Really. I don't want you to worry about it anymore, okay?”
Slowly, Ash turns around, but his answering smile is crooked, still doubtful. He reaches out and picks Eiji's hand up from where he's playing with the blanket. He threads their fingers together like he did the other day in the park. Eiji's heart beats a little faster.
He pulls together all his bravado and asks, voice low, “Can I kiss you again?”
Ash's eyes go wide, but after a moment, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Eiji leans forward and closes his eyes, waits for Ash's mouth to find his own, and now that he's been able to prepare for the kiss he attempts to catalog every detail – the way Ash tastes, how he smells up close. The softness of his lips. The slightly altered rhythm of his breathing as they kiss more passionately than ever before, lips locked, tongues swirling around each other.
When they part, Eiji has to wipe his spit-slick mouth with his palm. "Oh,” he says, a tad lightheaded. “I guess there are more ways to kiss someone than I thought."
Ash's smile has already grown more relaxed, more genuine, but now it turns playful, almost a little mischievous. “Oh... lots.”
“Can you...” Eiji begins, then he has to fight down a childish giggle, shy and embarrassed. His heart is pounding in his chest. He knows he's blushing. “Can you show me?”
Ash nods, a glint in his eyes that might be excitement, might be a hint of something more. He finally lets go of the blanket so it pools around his hips. He gently grips Eiji's other arm by the wrist, stretches it out in front of them and then leans in, lips brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of Eiji's elbow. He takes his sweet time kissing downwards, inch by inch, and lingers on his wrist, tongue pressing against his pulse point. Eiji closes his eyes, breathing hard, and Ash's mouth finds his own again instead, a rather quick and chaste kiss. By some miracle, it calms Eiji's nerves – something that's getting familiar by now, a mutual expression of trust.
He tugs at Eiji's hand, making him dip forward, and flips their positions so that Eiji's on his back beneath him. Braced above Eiji on both arms, Ash leans down, peppering kisses to the line of Eiji's collarbone and then up his neck, tracing his jaw. Every touch of his lips to Eiji's skin sends a jolt down Eiji's spine, and he can feel himself fill up, arousal swirling in his veins. He doesn't know if that's okay, and he grows nervous, squirming under the attention.
As if he's sensing Eiji's sudden unease, Ash stops, pinning Eiji with his gaze. “What's wrong?”
Eiji looks away and wets his lips. He glances down to his crotch and then back up immediately. “I... this feels good. Maybe a little too good. I don't want to, I mean. You... I know what you've been through and I don't want you to think that I'm expecting that we...” He shakes his head, helpless, shamed. “Fuck.”
Ash has been listening to him attentively, expression neutral, but he grins at the expletive. “Eiji, it's fine. I know you won't suddenly spring up and ravish me. I trust you. I agreed to this.”
Nevertheless, he sits back on his haunches and pulls Eiji up with him, keeps tugging on Eiji's hand until Eiji gets his intentions and they both crawl off the bed. Ash leads them over to the window sill and sits down, then pulls Eiji onto his lap, facing the window.
“Better?” he asks, and Eiji wants to laugh – at himself, at the situation, at the fact that Ash is trying to comfort him.
But he doesn't. He nods.
Without another word, Ash returns to kissing his jaw, this time from the back, and slowly works his way up to the shell of his ear. He nibbles there, making Eiji moan, and puts a soothing hand on Eiji's back as guilt surges in Eiji's belly again, palm rubbing Eiji's back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He peels the collar of Eiji's shirt down and starts kissing at his nape, mouth following the line of his spine. He hugs Eiji from behind, and his fingers work at the buttons of the shirt, undoing them one by one, until it falls off his shoulders, revealing his bare back to Ash's attentions. With more naked skin to work with, Ash ventures off in broader strokes, kissing along Eiji's shoulder blades, and he rests his arms in a loose embrace around Eiji's stomach. Despite the innocent position, Eiji can feel his arousal through where he's sitting on his lap, can feel a growing hardness pressing against his ass through two layers of fabric. Ash doesn't seem in any hurry to do something about that, though, and Eiji won't alert him to the fact that he can feel it. This is good, this is enough, and he chooses to be proud of the fact that Ash can relax with him to the point that he's getting aroused in spite of everything he's had to experience.
Eiji inhales, deeply, and closes his eyes. Ash rests his forehead against Eiji's back, holding him tighter. “Are you okay?”
“Hmmhmm,” Eiji hums, content, his skin continuing to tingle in every place Ash kissed. “You?”
Ash gives a quiet laugh and presses one final kiss to Eiji's shoulder. “Never better.”
The added quit worrying goes unsaid, but Eiji knows him well enough by now to hear it loud and clear anyway. It's impossible, he's just as incapable of not worrying about Ash's well-being as Ash is of not worrying about him, but now's not the time to point that out.
He takes Ash's hand and peels it back from where he's embracing him and rises to his feet, taking the initiative in leading them back to the bed. Without asking – without the need for it – he lays down with Ash on his bed, curling around him from behind. He's content, and somehow exhausted, and he soon falls into a deep sleep.
***
In the morning, Eiji wakes to an empty bed and the smell of pancakes wafting over from the kitchen. His stomach growls and he swings his legs out of bed and follows the inviting smell. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, he watches Ash work at the stove, still in his pajama top and sweatpants.
“Good morning,” he slurs, voice still rough with sleep, and hesitates only a moment before he walks over and hugs Ash from behind.
Ash startles for a second, but he captures the arms Eiji's got wrapped around him with the hand that's not busy operating the spatula. “I'm just not used to it yet,” he says, a rare note of insecurity in his tone; this is uncharted territory for both of them. “But please stay. Don't stop.”
Eiji hugs him tighter, cheek pressed to his back. “I didn't know you can cook,” he teases, although it might lose some of its effect due to the fact that the words are muffled from his position.
“Screw you,” Ash replies with a small laugh. Then he adds, quieter, “Griffin taught me a few things before he left for Iraq.”
There are no words to alleviate the pain of that loss, not yet, and so Eiji just stays right where he is, hoping that the closeness will serve as its own kind of comfort. He feels Ash move, stir the pan, put the pancake on a plate, pour in more dough, and Eiji inhales his scent, closer to happiness than he's ever been since his injury. He only moves away, reluctant and with a disapproving huff, when Ash nudges him, a plate full of pancakes in hand.
The table is already set, complete with milk and juice and butter, and Eiji sits down. Ash puts the plate down and then pauses, lips curving up with a smile. “Good morning, by the way,” he says and leans down for a kiss, then sits down himself and motions for Eiji to pick up his fork and start eating.
“Good morning,” Eiji replies, beaming back at him for a moment. The whole scene is ridiculously domestic, given their overall situation, the danger that's lurking behind every corner, but Eiji can't bring himself to think about anything else than Ash's smile, the memory of Ash's lips on his skin and the weight of him in his arms, the taste of him still lingering from that kiss just now.
Ash blushes almost imperceptibly and waves a hand at the plate. Eiji grins wide and digs in.
The pancakes are surprisingly good.