Word Count: 2,648 Warnings: not really anything! there's implications of canon-typical violence, but, nothing's described.
ahhh i may have taken a few liberties with the universe of psycho pass... i don't know if orphanages still even exist in this time period or what, and i don't quite know how latent criminals are taken in, but, please bear with me!! i just marathoned the entirety of psycho pass this week so i was really excited to do this and i hope it lives up to what you wanted op!! ;_;
There’s a new Enforcer being assigned to his division today, something Daichi always feels strange about. He’s firm, certainly, but sees no point in treating an Enforcer like someone lesser than him -- Daichi’s been to therapy himself, before, so it’s not like he can’t understand why someone’s Hue would waver. He values teamwork above any sort of rank differences, anyway, so while he won’t hesitate to yell or keep someone in line, he’d rather cooperate. That said, it’s not like he has any idea who will be walking in the door or what sort of person they are, and it always leaves him a bit on edge.
Daichi’s seen the new guy’s file, and frankly… it leaves him a little mystified. Koushi Sugawara, the same age as Daichi; a man who used to work with children at an orphanage, with gentle eyes, nothing that Daichi would usually expect from a latent criminal. The file doesn’t say what happened, only shows the records of a slow incline in his Crime Coefficient, then a sudden spike upwards past the threshold of 100, settling where he is now -- around the 180s usually. Daichi can’t even begin to speculate, really. It says his family is all still alive, but Daichi supposes that doesn’t rule out the death of a friend or a break-up or anything like that. Those don’t seem like the thing to push someone that far over the line, though.
He doesn’t think it’d be polite to ask, but he finds himself more curious than he ever really has been about an Enforcer, and he’s yet to even meet him. Better get started on that, actually, he realizes after a glance at the clock. Sugawara is likely to be waiting in his office at this point already, and Daichi kicks himself a bit for probably keeping him waiting. He finishes what he came for, two coffees from the cafeteria to present as a peace offering, and walks back to his office at a brisk pace.
Opening the door reveals just what he thought, Sugawara is already seated, hands folded in his lap, and Daichi cringes. “I’m really sorry to be late, I was getting coffee for us and I ended up losing track of time.” It’s a poor excuse, he knows, but he takes a seat across from Sugawara and slides one cup across the desk towards him with a sheepish smile. Sugawara meets the expression with one of his own, gentle, just like his eyes, and Daichi feels that nagging confusion only double now that he can see the man in motion, not just in a picture.
“That’s alright,” Sugawara says, and his voice is very soft, kind, a mixture that seems perfect for someone who cared for kids. “I wasn’t waiting very long, honestly, and I think the coffee makes up for it anyway.” He has something mischievous in his smile, now, like he’s teasing Daichi already. It’s refreshing, in Daichi’s opinion, a welcome change from surly attitudes and the heavy atmosphere that surrounds their work.
Daichi sticks out his hand for Sugawara to shake, which earns him a blink in surprise; it’s sad that he already seems used to not being treated like an equal, that a simple handshake seems like something unusual to be offered. He does take it, though, and that’s a relief. “I’m Daichi Sawamura, pleased to be working with you.”
Sugawara doesn’t look suspicious now, though, and Daichi’s hopeful that he’s already proved his sincerity. “Koushi Sugawara. And likewise, I think. I’m not too sure what to expect from this all yet, exactly.”
He wishes there was better news to give him, but it’s going to be blood, horror, and danger around every corner -- they’re going to see some of the worst things the world has to offer, and they’re going to have to struggle to not let it keep them up at night.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Honesty is always the best policy. They drop hands, and Daichi reaches for his coffee. Sugawara keeps smiling, but now his eyes seem a little distant, and the smile seems sad. He’s very expressive -- Daichi doesn’t think he’s paying closer attention than usual, but maybe he is, or maybe Sugawara really does just wear his heart on his sleeve.
“I’ll manage,” he says, and Daichi’s not sure who he’s telling it to.
-
They get along well. Sugawara does his job efficiently, he doesn’t flinch too badly at the sight of the carnage they have to face, and he never talks back. Daichi can’t think of a complaint. They get in the car after cases and sometimes Sugawara looks weary, weighed down by how heavy the Dominator’s responsibility feels, and Daichi understands that. He reaches out, once, to pat Sugawara’s knee, and they lock gazes for a moment, something unspoken between them. It speaks of something like partnership; this is the first time Daichi’s ever really truly felt like he had a partner in the field, and the silence conveys trust, support, and most importantly, understanding.
Nothing is easy in the MWPSB, they both know that, and maybe neither of them are really suited for it, at the end of the day -- they’re managing, though, just like Sugawara said. They’re making a difference. Daichi gets the impression that that’s all that matters to Sugawara.
At some point, Sugawara becomes “Suga” and Inspector Sawamura becomes “Daichi”, despite the strange looks both names garner. They fall into a comfortable routine, alternating coffee duty on their late nights at headquarters, sometimes swapping stories, and they even play volleyball, once -- the rest of the players are holos, so it’s not as challenging or fun as it could be, but Suga tosses to Daichi and though he’s not usually an offensive player, he spikes it with his best -- the point it scores is immensely satisfying. Suga’s highfives, touches that linger a little bit too long, are even more so.
Kuroo and Bokuto start poking fun at him, secretly, with chiding reminders that “there are rules against this sort of thing, you know”, and Daichi has a feeling they’re actually right. He doesn’t know what to do about that, so he ignores it as best he can, hoping it doesn’t affect his Hue too badly.
He still doesn’t know why Suga is here, though, and he never feels like it’s okay to ask. Suga sometimes talks about “his kids”, tells stories about their antics and trips they took, and when he’s done laughing, he deflates, looking more tired and defeated than he does when they come back from a case. Daichi feels like that’s something he should poke at, if only to understand him better, but to be honest, he’s afraid. He has no idea if he’s equipped to handle the answer, if it seems to bother him that much, it must be serious -- telling the story could make things worse, and if Daichi doesn’t know what to say after hearing it, that could just be another blow.
So he ignores that, too, even if he doesn’t really want to.
-
He ignores it, resolutely, until he can’t anymore.
Daichi has never really felt a compulsion to check Suga’s Crime Coefficient until today. Normally things are fine, and he has faith in Suga’s calm determination, no matter what sort of grimness they’re faced with. Today is different.
Their target is only 13. Still a child. Suga’s entire demeanor screams “on-edge”, and that’s a dangerous thing for an Enforcer to be. His shoulders are a little hunched together, Daichi can see that his hands are gripping the Dominator far too tightly, and his expression is one that Daichi’s never seen before -- he looks stricken.
With guilt, Daichi lifts his own Dominator just slightly, enough for it to scan Suga. The number it registers feels like a punch to the gut; he’s gone from a (fairly) comfortable 180, usually, all the way to 263. He has no idea what’s causing that much of a reaction, or whether it’s anger, anguish, or anything in between, but there’s no way he can let it go.
He reaches out, putting a hand on Suga’s shoulder and tugging him back towards Daichi just slightly. “Suga,” he says, softly, already apologetic, “I think you should go wait in the car.”
Suga’s eyes widen with confusion, and maybe a little hurt (Daichi tries to pretend he didn’t see that). “I’m fine, Daichi, and I can’t just leave you.”
Daichi shakes his head.
“I think you should sit in the car instead.” This time his voice is a bit less friendly, making it clear that this is far more of an order than a request. Suga, for the first time, looks angry with him. They’ve been operating on very equal footing, and both of them have been more comfortable for it -- this is the first time Daichi has ever really told Suga to do something, as opposed to asking. He’s not happy about it. Neither is Suga.
They look at each other for a moment, Suga’s eyes narrowed, and Daichi’s lips in a tight line. Neither wants to budge. Suga relents, though, but it’s not pleasant -- he brushes past Daichi roughly, their shoulders colliding, and Daichi immediately wants to take it back, to apologize. He can’t. There’s a job to be done, and Suga is far too close to the line of lethality being used against him for Daichi to be alright with. He’s not always like this, so maybe he can cool off. Daichi hopes so, at least.
About 45 minutes later, Daichi heads back to their car, feeling a little sick. Paralyzing a child doesn’t exactly leave him feeling good about anything, but he’s glad Suga wasn’t there to see it -- maybe it was just that, that they were faced with a child, maybe he couldn’t handle it. He intends to find out now, anyway.
Suga is staring straight ahead out of the window, barely even moving when Daichi takes his seat in the driver’s side. It’s an atmosphere that feels so foreign to their relationship thus far, one categorized by plenty of laughter, and an openness Daichi’s never had before. Briefly, he wonders if he’s committed some unforgivable offense.
“We should talk.”
Suga doesn’t look at him.
Daichi tries again.
“I need to know what happened. I… checked your Crime Coefficient. You were over 260, Suga. Something was wrong. Maybe still is.”
It’s hard to admit what feels like a betrayal and breach of trust to Suga’s face, but it’s the only way to explain his actions.
Another few long moments go by, and Daichi feels at a loss -- it would be wrong to make Suga look at him, to demand a response, and would only widen the gap between them now, but it still feels like the only thing to do.
Suga saves him from having to consider it, finally.
“I lost my kids.”
His voice is a whisper, if even that -- it sounds haunted, broken, and Daichi hates it.
“What?”
His own voice feels like a croak, too, from disbelief. There’s plenty of ways to take that, but none of them have ever been considered by Daichi before, and most of them don’t match up to his image of Suga at all.
“I lost my kids. It -- I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t think it was my fault, but I don’t know if that’s just -- scapegoating. We were running out of funding, and I tried my best, I looked wherever I could, but there was just no money anywhere. I tried so hard to keep it from them all, but you have to say something at some point, you have to explain why you can’t buy them new toys, why there’s a little less food -- I, maybe I didn’t handle it right. I don’t know. They worried about it, I could see it, and I couldn’t get them to stop, no matter what.”
Daichi can see where the story is going, by now. He leans over, just a little, to rest a hand on Suga’s arm, wrapping his fingers around to squeeze, just to reassure that he’s there.
“They’re just kids. They don’t have any idea how to deal with stress. And when the MWPSB finally came, I just -- I couldn’t handle it. I yelled. I was already probably way over the acceptable number, but picking a fight with them didn’t help, and then -- well. You can guess.”
He doesn’t like the note of self-deprecation there, but he can’t pretend he’d be any better off, recalling this.
“Suga…” Lacking anything else to say, he opts for shifting nearer to him, and pulls Suga into a hug as best as he can in a cramped police car. It’s a little awkward, the angle they fit into now is strange, but Suga relaxes against him, he can feel that, and that’s enough.
“When I saw we were tracking down a child, I just… couldn’t stop thinking about it. Is it even his fault? How do you label someone a latent criminal so young, when it’s probably just circumstance? What if his parents aren’t there for him? What if he just needs therapy? It just -- it’s not fair, Daichi.”
It’s not. The doubt and discomfort he’d felt earlier is only amplified by Suga’s story. There’s something that feels wrong about how they administer justice, and it’s felt that way for a while, if he’s honest. It’s another thing that Daichi has worked to put out of his mind, because he has no idea where to begin fixing it.
He strokes the back of Suga’s head, choosing not to comment on the tears he knows are there -- he can feel Suga’s shoulders shake, hear the hitches of his breath, and just holds him tight. He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” knowing it won’t do anything, and tries to stop seeing the little girl he’d just pointed his Dominator at when he shuts his eyes.
-
Daichi gives him some space over the next few days. Suga’s Crime Coefficient settles back down to a 194, still a little too high for Daichi’s liking, but it’s invasive to watch his mental state that closely, so he does his best to let Suga handle it. He seems to, looking less distressed by the day, and Daichi breathes a little easier every time Suga manages a smile.
It’s a week after that case that Suga steps into Daichi’s office, holding two coffees, unexpected.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” He manages to get it out before Daichi even opens his mouth, and settles himself in his usual seat before even being invited. Daichi feels… warm, maybe, at the idea that Suga feels that casual with him, still.
“I didn’t do anything.” That feels like the truth, Daichi doesn’t exactly consider his poor attempts at comfort to be a huge help, and it’s not like listening was trouble for him.
“You did, though,” Suga insists, pushing the coffee cup at him, “and I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”
Daichi’s cheeks turn faintly pink, and Suga laughs (it feels like forever since he’s done that), not looking burdened or even close to as miserable as Daichi’s seen him lately, which is -- good. It’s good. He’s glad.
They drink their coffee, gossiping a little about coworkers, until Suga stands to go.
He ducks around Daichi’s desk, first, and leans down, quick as can be, and puts his lips to Daichi’s cheek. It only lasts a second, or at least it only feels like one, and then Suga is grinning at him, then he’s out the door, and Daichi barely has time to blink.
FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G
Warnings: not really anything! there's implications of canon-typical violence, but, nothing's described.
ahhh i may have taken a few liberties with the universe of psycho pass... i don't know if orphanages still even exist in this time period or what, and i don't quite know how latent criminals are taken in, but, please bear with me!! i just marathoned the entirety of psycho pass this week so i was really excited to do this and i hope it lives up to what you wanted op!! ;_;
There’s a new Enforcer being assigned to his division today, something Daichi always feels strange about. He’s firm, certainly, but sees no point in treating an Enforcer like someone lesser than him -- Daichi’s been to therapy himself, before, so it’s not like he can’t understand why someone’s Hue would waver. He values teamwork above any sort of rank differences, anyway, so while he won’t hesitate to yell or keep someone in line, he’d rather cooperate. That said, it’s not like he has any idea who will be walking in the door or what sort of person they are, and it always leaves him a bit on edge.
Daichi’s seen the new guy’s file, and frankly… it leaves him a little mystified. Koushi Sugawara, the same age as Daichi; a man who used to work with children at an orphanage, with gentle eyes, nothing that Daichi would usually expect from a latent criminal. The file doesn’t say what happened, only shows the records of a slow incline in his Crime Coefficient, then a sudden spike upwards past the threshold of 100, settling where he is now -- around the 180s usually. Daichi can’t even begin to speculate, really. It says his family is all still alive, but Daichi supposes that doesn’t rule out the death of a friend or a break-up or anything like that. Those don’t seem like the thing to push someone that far over the line, though.
He doesn’t think it’d be polite to ask, but he finds himself more curious than he ever really has been about an Enforcer, and he’s yet to even meet him. Better get started on that, actually, he realizes after a glance at the clock. Sugawara is likely to be waiting in his office at this point already, and Daichi kicks himself a bit for probably keeping him waiting. He finishes what he came for, two coffees from the cafeteria to present as a peace offering, and walks back to his office at a brisk pace.
Opening the door reveals just what he thought, Sugawara is already seated, hands folded in his lap, and Daichi cringes. “I’m really sorry to be late, I was getting coffee for us and I ended up losing track of time.” It’s a poor excuse, he knows, but he takes a seat across from Sugawara and slides one cup across the desk towards him with a sheepish smile. Sugawara meets the expression with one of his own, gentle, just like his eyes, and Daichi feels that nagging confusion only double now that he can see the man in motion, not just in a picture.
“That’s alright,” Sugawara says, and his voice is very soft, kind, a mixture that seems perfect for someone who cared for kids. “I wasn’t waiting very long, honestly, and I think the coffee makes up for it anyway.” He has something mischievous in his smile, now, like he’s teasing Daichi already. It’s refreshing, in Daichi’s opinion, a welcome change from surly attitudes and the heavy atmosphere that surrounds their work.
Daichi sticks out his hand for Sugawara to shake, which earns him a blink in surprise; it’s sad that he already seems used to not being treated like an equal, that a simple handshake seems like something unusual to be offered. He does take it, though, and that’s a relief. “I’m Daichi Sawamura, pleased to be working with you.”
Sugawara doesn’t look suspicious now, though, and Daichi’s hopeful that he’s already proved his sincerity. “Koushi Sugawara. And likewise, I think. I’m not too sure what to expect from this all yet, exactly.”
He wishes there was better news to give him, but it’s going to be blood, horror, and danger around every corner -- they’re going to see some of the worst things the world has to offer, and they’re going to have to struggle to not let it keep them up at night.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Honesty is always the best policy. They drop hands, and Daichi reaches for his coffee. Sugawara keeps smiling, but now his eyes seem a little distant, and the smile seems sad. He’s very expressive -- Daichi doesn’t think he’s paying closer attention than usual, but maybe he is, or maybe Sugawara really does just wear his heart on his sleeve.
“I’ll manage,” he says, and Daichi’s not sure who he’s telling it to.
-
They get along well. Sugawara does his job efficiently, he doesn’t flinch too badly at the sight of the carnage they have to face, and he never talks back. Daichi can’t think of a complaint. They get in the car after cases and sometimes Sugawara looks weary, weighed down by how heavy the Dominator’s responsibility feels, and Daichi understands that. He reaches out, once, to pat Sugawara’s knee, and they lock gazes for a moment, something unspoken between them. It speaks of something like partnership; this is the first time Daichi’s ever really truly felt like he had a partner in the field, and the silence conveys trust, support, and most importantly, understanding.
Nothing is easy in the MWPSB, they both know that, and maybe neither of them are really suited for it, at the end of the day -- they’re managing, though, just like Sugawara said. They’re making a difference. Daichi gets the impression that that’s all that matters to Sugawara.
At some point, Sugawara becomes “Suga” and Inspector Sawamura becomes “Daichi”, despite the strange looks both names garner. They fall into a comfortable routine, alternating coffee duty on their late nights at headquarters, sometimes swapping stories, and they even play volleyball, once -- the rest of the players are holos, so it’s not as challenging or fun as it could be, but Suga tosses to Daichi and though he’s not usually an offensive player, he spikes it with his best -- the point it scores is immensely satisfying. Suga’s highfives, touches that linger a little bit too long, are even more so.
Kuroo and Bokuto start poking fun at him, secretly, with chiding reminders that “there are rules against this sort of thing, you know”, and Daichi has a feeling they’re actually right. He doesn’t know what to do about that, so he ignores it as best he can, hoping it doesn’t affect his Hue too badly.
He still doesn’t know why Suga is here, though, and he never feels like it’s okay to ask. Suga sometimes talks about “his kids”, tells stories about their antics and trips they took, and when he’s done laughing, he deflates, looking more tired and defeated than he does when they come back from a case. Daichi feels like that’s something he should poke at, if only to understand him better, but to be honest, he’s afraid. He has no idea if he’s equipped to handle the answer, if it seems to bother him that much, it must be serious -- telling the story could make things worse, and if Daichi doesn’t know what to say after hearing it, that could just be another blow.
So he ignores that, too, even if he doesn’t really want to.
-
He ignores it, resolutely, until he can’t anymore.
Daichi has never really felt a compulsion to check Suga’s Crime Coefficient until today. Normally things are fine, and he has faith in Suga’s calm determination, no matter what sort of grimness they’re faced with. Today is different.
Their target is only 13. Still a child. Suga’s entire demeanor screams “on-edge”, and that’s a dangerous thing for an Enforcer to be. His shoulders are a little hunched together, Daichi can see that his hands are gripping the Dominator far too tightly, and his expression is one that Daichi’s never seen before -- he looks stricken.
With guilt, Daichi lifts his own Dominator just slightly, enough for it to scan Suga. The number it registers feels like a punch to the gut; he’s gone from a (fairly) comfortable 180, usually, all the way to 263. He has no idea what’s causing that much of a reaction, or whether it’s anger, anguish, or anything in between, but there’s no way he can let it go.
He reaches out, putting a hand on Suga’s shoulder and tugging him back towards Daichi just slightly. “Suga,” he says, softly, already apologetic, “I think you should go wait in the car.”
Suga’s eyes widen with confusion, and maybe a little hurt (Daichi tries to pretend he didn’t see that). “I’m fine, Daichi, and I can’t just leave you.”
Daichi shakes his head.
“I think you should sit in the car instead.” This time his voice is a bit less friendly, making it clear that this is far more of an order than a request. Suga, for the first time, looks angry with him. They’ve been operating on very equal footing, and both of them have been more comfortable for it -- this is the first time Daichi has ever really told Suga to do something, as opposed to asking. He’s not happy about it. Neither is Suga.
They look at each other for a moment, Suga’s eyes narrowed, and Daichi’s lips in a tight line. Neither wants to budge. Suga relents, though, but it’s not pleasant -- he brushes past Daichi roughly, their shoulders colliding, and Daichi immediately wants to take it back, to apologize. He can’t. There’s a job to be done, and Suga is far too close to the line of lethality being used against him for Daichi to be alright with. He’s not always like this, so maybe he can cool off. Daichi hopes so, at least.
About 45 minutes later, Daichi heads back to their car, feeling a little sick. Paralyzing a child doesn’t exactly leave him feeling good about anything, but he’s glad Suga wasn’t there to see it -- maybe it was just that, that they were faced with a child, maybe he couldn’t handle it. He intends to find out now, anyway.
Suga is staring straight ahead out of the window, barely even moving when Daichi takes his seat in the driver’s side. It’s an atmosphere that feels so foreign to their relationship thus far, one categorized by plenty of laughter, and an openness Daichi’s never had before. Briefly, he wonders if he’s committed some unforgivable offense.
“We should talk.”
Suga doesn’t look at him.
Daichi tries again.
“I need to know what happened. I… checked your Crime Coefficient. You were over 260, Suga. Something was wrong. Maybe still is.”
It’s hard to admit what feels like a betrayal and breach of trust to Suga’s face, but it’s the only way to explain his actions.
Another few long moments go by, and Daichi feels at a loss -- it would be wrong to make Suga look at him, to demand a response, and would only widen the gap between them now, but it still feels like the only thing to do.
Suga saves him from having to consider it, finally.
“I lost my kids.”
His voice is a whisper, if even that -- it sounds haunted, broken, and Daichi hates it.
“What?”
His own voice feels like a croak, too, from disbelief. There’s plenty of ways to take that, but none of them have ever been considered by Daichi before, and most of them don’t match up to his image of Suga at all.
“I lost my kids. It -- I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t think it was my fault, but I don’t know if that’s just -- scapegoating. We were running out of funding, and I tried my best, I looked wherever I could, but there was just no money anywhere. I tried so hard to keep it from them all, but you have to say something at some point, you have to explain why you can’t buy them new toys, why there’s a little less food -- I, maybe I didn’t handle it right. I don’t know. They worried about it, I could see it, and I couldn’t get them to stop, no matter what.”
Daichi can see where the story is going, by now. He leans over, just a little, to rest a hand on Suga’s arm, wrapping his fingers around to squeeze, just to reassure that he’s there.
“They’re just kids. They don’t have any idea how to deal with stress. And when the MWPSB finally came, I just -- I couldn’t handle it. I yelled. I was already probably way over the acceptable number, but picking a fight with them didn’t help, and then -- well. You can guess.”
He doesn’t like the note of self-deprecation there, but he can’t pretend he’d be any better off, recalling this.
“Suga…” Lacking anything else to say, he opts for shifting nearer to him, and pulls Suga into a hug as best as he can in a cramped police car. It’s a little awkward, the angle they fit into now is strange, but Suga relaxes against him, he can feel that, and that’s enough.
“When I saw we were tracking down a child, I just… couldn’t stop thinking about it. Is it even his fault? How do you label someone a latent criminal so young, when it’s probably just circumstance? What if his parents aren’t there for him? What if he just needs therapy? It just -- it’s not fair, Daichi.”
It’s not. The doubt and discomfort he’d felt earlier is only amplified by Suga’s story. There’s something that feels wrong about how they administer justice, and it’s felt that way for a while, if he’s honest. It’s another thing that Daichi has worked to put out of his mind, because he has no idea where to begin fixing it.
He strokes the back of Suga’s head, choosing not to comment on the tears he knows are there -- he can feel Suga’s shoulders shake, hear the hitches of his breath, and just holds him tight. He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” knowing it won’t do anything, and tries to stop seeing the little girl he’d just pointed his Dominator at when he shuts his eyes.
-
Daichi gives him some space over the next few days. Suga’s Crime Coefficient settles back down to a 194, still a little too high for Daichi’s liking, but it’s invasive to watch his mental state that closely, so he does his best to let Suga handle it. He seems to, looking less distressed by the day, and Daichi breathes a little easier every time Suga manages a smile.
It’s a week after that case that Suga steps into Daichi’s office, holding two coffees, unexpected.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” He manages to get it out before Daichi even opens his mouth, and settles himself in his usual seat before even being invited. Daichi feels… warm, maybe, at the idea that Suga feels that casual with him, still.
“I didn’t do anything.” That feels like the truth, Daichi doesn’t exactly consider his poor attempts at comfort to be a huge help, and it’s not like listening was trouble for him.
“You did, though,” Suga insists, pushing the coffee cup at him, “and I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”
Daichi’s cheeks turn faintly pink, and Suga laughs (it feels like forever since he’s done that), not looking burdened or even close to as miserable as Daichi’s seen him lately, which is -- good. It’s good. He’s glad.
They drink their coffee, gossiping a little about coworkers, until Suga stands to go.
He ducks around Daichi’s desk, first, and leans down, quick as can be, and puts his lips to Daichi’s cheek. It only lasts a second, or at least it only feels like one, and then Suga is grinning at him, then he’s out the door, and Daichi barely has time to blink.
He looks at the coffee cup.
Suga kissed him.
He thinks -- rules. There are probably rules.
He doesn’t care.