The initial feeling he’d had towards Mitsuhide, one year ago when Hisahide had glanced over and caught sight of that pretty face, had been equal parts the urge to fuck and urge to fuck up; how odd, how deliciously dramatic, to carry such different feelings in one red-hot flash! It was intense enough that he wondered if he’d met the man before, but no, surely not, surely he’d remember a history vivid enough to inspire something like that.
Nor would he lose the memory of a body that beautiful, of course.
Mitsuhide had proved to be interesting for many reasons beyond that. Sure, he was naive and he was soft, true, too kind for his own good and too prim-and-proper. Too willing like so many to just ‘get on with it,’ too dutiful, and in so many ways he was the type of person Hisahide should have found boring. Yet he wasn’t boring at all! It had turned out that aside from being really fun to play with, Mitsuhide’s history was full of delightful surprises and a whole lot of the right kind of upset people. It had left Mitsuhide a bit lost in himself, sure, but that was fine, Hisahide could work with that. Could maybe even help with it, if the mood took him. That offer of assistance had been given more often than one might expect, they had actually become friends, and over time the more destructive aspect of Hisahide’s desire had become tempered. The other aspect, on the other hand?
“Ah, Mitsuhide,” he crooned. “Finally decided to pay us a visit, have you?”
“I’m sorry, Mister Hisahide. It’s been difficult to find time until now…”
Mitsuhide trailed off, looking crestfallen for a moment. Hisahide knew why, of course, but he chose not to address it. Better not open that up! The future was bright and tonight was about fun and oh, the way his friend was dressed, that did all kinds of things to the already inflamed want for him Hisahide was nursing. Mitsuhide wore simple clothing, trousers and shirt, but the shirt was a deep purple much bolder than he would normally wear and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows an unusually casual touch. An elegant gold-hued watch was exposed on the left wrist, a gift from Hisahide himself, shining in the low light. Best of all was the crown of Mitsuhide’s hair, actually worn loose and unbound, an absolute joy of silk and ebony so long it brushed against the back of the stool he had sat on. A rare sight, very rare indeed, and one that highlighted everything about him that Hisahide found attractive.
So… all told, the urge to grind his dear and lovely Mitsuhide into a mattress and hear him sing was stronger and brighter than ever.
“None of that,” said Hisahide, grinning wide. “Since I did actually get your message, I called up a somewhat regular of mine and offered him an incredibly inconvenient job that would get in the way of his other commitments! Fortunately for you that’s the sort of job he likes best.”
As Hisahide had known it would, the implication there was enough to distract Mitsuhide from the grey cloud in his head. His expression softened in an instant, some ghost of a smile playing across his lips as his body unwound.
“You finally got Mister Chōsokabe to come back?”
“That’s right! And all it took was him not having room in his calender for you.” Hisahide turned on his stool so he could look at Mitsuhide head-on, leaning an elbow on his bar and sticking out his tongue. “Be sure to thank me very kindly later, Mitsuhide, once you’ve had your fill of the shamisen.”
“Thank you, Mister Hisahide!”
Typical. Still, Hisahide couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at the oblivious response, not when Mitsuhide was looking so happily his way. Shamisen music wasn’t to Hisahide’s own tastes but he half-wished he had done as his mother had wanted when he was a boy and learned at least a little of it. Then Mitsuhide might look at him that way more often. It was… nice, having that kind of gentle sincerity sent his way. Not something he’d ever thought he appreciate.
Maybe he should corner Motochika after the show and get some lessons out of him.
“Think nothing of it,” Hisahide said, after a few moments, turning to gesture at the bar steward (she scowled, but was quick to get to work on his favourite drink). “Let’s just settle in and get ready to enjoy the show, hmm? I suppose you’ll just want water.”
“Yes, thank you,” Mitsuhide replied. “I won’t touch alcohol ever again after the last incident.”
“Ha! Yes, yes, quite sensible of you. It was quite a mess you made, I don’t think I want to hold your hair back for you again. Not in that kind of situation, anyway.”
Mitsuhide burned an immediate deep red, visible even under the dim lights of Hisahide’s club, and Hisahide burst into a fit of laughter. Yes, this was truly going to be a good night, and perhaps after the show he’d arranged it would finally be time to step things up a notch between them. Not fully direct, not quite yet, but a flush that satisfying had to be a promising sign, yes? Fate itself cluing Hisahide into the path ahead, teasing with a delicate sweetness. He reached out for his drink as it was slid towards him and let the mood between them settle into something more typically friendly, leaving further playtime for after the incoming performance.
The wait didn’t take too long; the lights dimmed further after a handful of minutes, save for a single bright spotlight illuminating the stage, where the long-awaited musician took a seat once everyone was quiet. Hisahide wasn’t quite as interested in the man’s performance as most everyone else, but in the interest of keeping his would-be sweetheart happy turned to watch as well. Beside him, Mitsuhide went completely still, eyes fixed firmly on the performer.
Chōsokabe Motochika was very good at commanding most people’s attention.
“I have been called here by a newcomer that craves my song,” he drawled, already starting to pluck at his ornate shamisen. “So be it. Listen, and let my voice stir your soul.”
The same usual dramatics. It certainly seemed to work on most people who attended the club, though, and as the backing band started up at an immediate fast pace and Motochika’s voice joined the instruments the atmosphere turned excitable very quickly. This had mostly been about keeping Mitsuhide happy but Hisahide would not complain about the extra business that had no doubt been pulled in tonight by the announcement. He settled back in his stool, lifted his complicated cocktail in the air, and toasted to his profits.
Beside him, transfixed, Mitsuhide leaned forward a little and… ah, yes! That faint suggestion of a smile finally turned into a smile proper.
Feeling comfortable and satisfied, Hisahide spent a good few songs worth of time in complete contentment, his gaze flicking between the delightful view that Mitsuhide made and Motochika on his lit stool. His heart felt light and, yes, he was feeling all around positive and maybe even excited about his future. Everything really had been falling into place for him lately, and there was nothing that concerned him incoming either. Success in business, good luck in his tea-kettle collecting, constant buzz around his artistic pursuits, deeply satisfied partners in the bedroom, and now, love in the stars. Perhaps that was the word, at that. Motochika glanced his way and Hisahide barely noticed, probably wouldn’t have acknowledged it at all as stuck as he was on the word in his head, except Motochika’s eyes suddenly went wide and he flubbed a note.
Well, how could Hisahide not take a moment to laugh at that? He chuckled loudly to himself and smirked at Motochika, expecting a hardened frown in response, but didn’t get one. For one long moment the club was otherwise deadly silent.
“…it seems a new song is demanded of me,” Motochika said, eventually, still staring. “We’ll switch to a soothing vibe, instead, for the last track of this half.”
Indeed, the tune he started to play was a complete turnaround from the previous one. The backing players, who had stopped with the mistake, did not start up again for a good few seconds in their confusion. Gentle shamisen notes washed through the club. Hisahide snorted and turned his gaze to Mitsuhide, ready to make some kind of quip, but then… well. Amusement quickly gave way to annoyance as he realised that Motochika hadn’t been looking at Hisahide. He’d been looking at Mitsuhide, more, caught his gaze, and Mitsuhide was staring right back. His lips were stuck open, parted, and a fluster back on his cheeks.
“You’re drifting off into the clouds, Mitsuhide,” Hisahide snapped. “I’m feeling a little neglected right now. Was that mistake truly so distracting you’d forget a friend?”
It took a moment; Mitsuhide seemed a few seconds behind, almost, only startling a little when the music was fully back in swing again. Whatever pathetic magic spell had been going on broke as he turned to Hisahide, still looking confused, and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry,” said Mitsuhide softly. “It wasn’t the mistake… it’s Mister Chōsokabe… I didn’t feel this way seeing his picture, but in-person, like this, I thought for a moment that I’d met him before?”
“You’d remember having someone who dressed like he does in your life, Mitsuhide.” Hisahide rolled his eyes. “Before me I daresay you’d never had a friend who didn’t wear boring suits as casual day wear.”
“That’s a little cruel, Mister Hisahide…”
“Am I wrong?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that. You’ve worn suits before, haven’t you?”
“I didn’t say suits were boring. But the ones your old friends wore were… and most of yours are, now we’re talking about it. Why, tonight’s look is almost bold, for clothing from your wardrobe!”
Mitsuhide sighed softly, folding his hands in his lap, and Hisahide cackled, standing up for a moment so he could scoot his stool closer.
“Now now, don’t get me wrong…” Leaning closer than he usually would, Hisahide’s tone shifted to something more conciliatory, perhaps a touch, dare he say it, flirtatious? “I like bold on you… you should try it more often. A suitable, more positive change for your life, hmm?”
Cozy like this, not quite close enough to touch but nearly there, with the soft music weaving through the background? It felt almost romantic! Hisahide watched Mitsuhide’s eyelashes flutter and let his gaze roam over his friend’s face afterwards, enjoying the embarrassment he was causing but also appreciating the deep brown of Mitsuhide’s irises, the tiny touch of dark eyeshadow on his eyelids, the line of his nose, and, ah! The cupid’s bow of his lips, made slightly shiny with a clear lip gloss, and eminently kissable. Hisahide let the fantasy drift through his mind, imagining what might happen if he really did take a chance and lean in. Imagined how soft those lips might feel beneath his, imagined how his shy friend might hesitantly press back and give permission for a bit more, an open mouth, building heat and--
“Mister Chōsokabe!” Mitsuhide jumped up from his stool and the motion immediately ruined Hisahide’s train of thought; he turned around and realised that yes, the music had stopped for a break, and yes, Motochika had walked up right behind him. “I’m sorry about before…”
“It was a worthwhile distraction,” replied Motochika, mouth curved into a wide, genuine smile. “You are Akechi Mitsuhide?”
“That’s right.” Mitsuhide offered out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Chōsokabe.”
“A pleasure indeed… Motochika will be fine.”
Motochika took Mitsuhide’s hand and shook it. Hisahide’s gaze dropped to the joined hands, noting how the grip lingered for far longer than a normal polite greeting and how Motochika’s thumb swept over the back of Mitsuhide’s hand before letting go, then looked back up to see them staring into one another's eyes again. The air crackled, an obvious electric tension filling the air between the two of them, and for fucks sake, that was attraction, wasn’t it? Lust at first sight.
“Mitsuhide here thinks you two have met before,” Hisahide said, loud and more obviously sour than intended. “But I know better. I can’t imagine you’re fond of taking up bookings from big, boring business, Motochika, and that’s all my friend here did for most of his life.”
That got their attention back where it belonged. Mitsuhide frowned a little and shifted on the spot, awkward, but Motochika cast Hisahide an annoyed look and planted a hand on his hip. They’d always got on decently in the past, having similar values and tastes in some areas, but as their relationship was largely centered on business there’d never really been a chance for them to discover how their differences might cause argument. Hisahide usually enjoyed a good argument, as it happened, but only when the other person in question was on the end of his strings. Motochika didn’t let anyone put him in that position.
“I felt it too.” Motochika tossed his head, shifting his pale-white fringe enough that it no longer obscured his view for a few moments. “So perhaps he and I met elsewhere… or this is a fated meeting you arranged for us, Hisahide. What do you think, Mitsuhide?”
Motochika glanced back at Mitsuhide, expression easing into a pleased one again, and Mitsuhide’s ears went pink but, damn it all, he offered an absolutely radiant smile back, at the man he had just met, someone who had done absolutely nothing to deserve it, and nodded his head.
“I think you might be right, Mister Motochika.”
Forget asking him for shamisen lessons later. Hisahide now wanted nothing more than to break this interloper’s face.
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