[NO MATTER WHERE YUSUKE GOES HE IS ALWAYS BROKE. . .]
[. . . though the comment about being picky gives Akira pause, because it makes him realize. . . he actually has no idea what Yusuke looks for in a partner. it had simply never crossed his mind before now, busy as they were back home conquering Palace after Palace, slicing through Shadow after Shadow. Akira had never entertained the idea of relationships and intimacy when it came to his team. . . not because he hadn't noticed his thieves in that manner, of course. most of them (Yusuke included) had given Akira pause at least once or twice, allowing him to nurture a fleeting thought, a momentary curiosity, before he'd let it go to drift off in the wind like a wayward butterfly, never to be seen again]
[he always felt as though he had no need for anything more than the support and friendship of his team. they were his cohorts and co-conspirators; the people who had given his life meaning. was there anything more precious in the world than that?]
[this place. . .]
[. . . well. it makes him wonder. and for once, he cups that butterfly gingerly between his palms, and he contemplates. . .]
[does Yusuke like to hold hands? is he content to sit in silence, or would he rather fill the void with comfortable chatter? does he prefer a bit of build up beforehand, or would he rather skip the formalities? that captivating look he has when he is painting a subject, that intense gaze of his that seems to strip whatever he captures in his art down to its barest parts, soul exposed. . . is that only for art, or—]
[Akira doesn't wear his thoughts on his sleeve, but a light dusting of pink blossoms on his features too. he cuts through the flush with a sharp grin, fingers snagging at Yusuke's as he joins their hands together like it's the most natural thing in the world]
I bet you and I could run a damn good hustle in the casino, if we wanted.
no subject
[. . . though the comment about being picky gives Akira pause, because it makes him realize. . . he actually has no idea what Yusuke looks for in a partner. it had simply never crossed his mind before now, busy as they were back home conquering Palace after Palace, slicing through Shadow after Shadow. Akira had never entertained the idea of relationships and intimacy when it came to his team. . . not because he hadn't noticed his thieves in that manner, of course. most of them (Yusuke included) had given Akira pause at least once or twice, allowing him to nurture a fleeting thought, a momentary curiosity, before he'd let it go to drift off in the wind like a wayward butterfly, never to be seen again]
[he always felt as though he had no need for anything more than the support and friendship of his team. they were his cohorts and co-conspirators; the people who had given his life meaning. was there anything more precious in the world than that?]
[this place. . .]
[. . . well. it makes him wonder. and for once, he cups that butterfly gingerly between his palms, and he contemplates. . .]
[does Yusuke like to hold hands? is he content to sit in silence, or would he rather fill the void with comfortable chatter? does he prefer a bit of build up beforehand, or would he rather skip the formalities? that captivating look he has when he is painting a subject, that intense gaze of his that seems to strip whatever he captures in his art down to its barest parts, soul exposed. . . is that only for art, or—]
[Akira doesn't wear his thoughts on his sleeve, but a light dusting of pink blossoms on his features too. he cuts through the flush with a sharp grin, fingers snagging at Yusuke's as he joins their hands together like it's the most natural thing in the world]
I bet you and I could run a damn good hustle in the casino, if we wanted.