http://antichristsmile.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
antichristsmile.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2006-09-03 11:13 pm
antichristsmile.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-09-03 11:13 pm
Log [Complete]
When; This evening (Sept. 3)
Rating; PG
Characters; Fuuma (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
antichristsmile) & Katou (katoustheshit)
Summary; Fuuma invites Katou over for dinner and a story, and criminal amounts of cuteness ensue. Fuuma, you bastard. D: (Also, Katou gets a place to sleep. ♥)
Log;
His apartment was only sparsely furnished at best, but Fuuma liked to think that what small touches he'd managed so far to the minimal decor had given it something of the warmth and welcoming air of a true home, in which he might be living for a while... The curtains were dark but fuzzy, light glowing through as though caught in winter frost; the walls were a warm peach orange, sun-ripened; and the furnishings were various shades of plush red and royal purple, zany yellow and green cushions peeking everywhere. The dining room table had a single vase in the shape of a music note on it, spreading wings across the box of tissue beneath.
It was a far cry from the sterility and austere elegance preferred and instigated by Kanoe in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, and fulfilled a little part of what he thought had been missing in that base. All that was missing was, perhaps, a stuffed animal or two--he'd have liked to entertain Ururu-chan better if he could--and, of course, guests who came and went with the afterimages of the sun's lifetimes, blurred and warm.
And that would be remedied tonight--the amusing and frank character of the one he'd met yesterday, who called himself 'Katou', had led Fuuma to anticipate the addition of his personality to the little he'd managed to give his apartment. Accordingly, the Angel was currently busy with anticipation, passing between the dining room table and the stove laden with dishes and cookingware; the smell of food wafted across the room and out the half-open window, declaring to all the world today's occasion--Fuuma was entertaining.
Katou had been rather surprised when an invitation to Kamui’s place had been dropped on his head, but he really was rather looking forward to seeing someone. The ticking had grown increasingly more annoying whenever he wasn’t with someone (mostly Alexiel), especially after talking with Kamui and having his thoughts once again on both Kira and Setsuna. It was almost maddening.
He was aware, somewhat, of Hatter telling him that Kamui wasn’t exactly trustworthy, but Katou would decide that himself. Besides, since when had he actually trusted someone, besides Kira and Setsuna. He didn’t really have anything to worry about as far as that went.
He looked at the address on the invitation again, before going into the building and ringing Kamui’s bell.
The doorbell caught Fuuma in the middle of a balancing act involving several plates of vegetables and meat about to go into the pot, the cooking utensils as well as the salt shaker and the sugar bag. Putting down the plates for the moment and turning the heat on low (it was only halfway done, but it being the main course, he supposed they could satisfy themselves on what he had already cooked), he tucked salt and sugar under one arm, spatula and wooden spoon under the other, and went to answer the door.
A warm smile greeted the youth who stood outside, as Fuuma opened the door wider and invited him in with a slightly awkward gesture, managing somehow not to drop any of what he was carrying in the process. "Thank you for coming, Katou-san. I don't have much in here at the moment, but I hope you'll be comfortable."
Katou’s mouth dropped open, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. “Ki--“ He started to croak, but before he finished he cleared his throat. No, despite what he first thought, this wasn’t Kira. He just looked similar, as though he could have been the long lost brother Katou never knew about.
He forced a smile in return, still feeling rather shocked. It felt like a slap in the face really. Not that he really minded, suddenly all thoughts about what Hatter had said about Kamui being untrustworthy left him. “Want me to help carry anything?” Katou asked, his voice much more normal. He stepped inside and slipped off his shoes.
Katou took a better look at him. Kamui was a bit taller than Kira, his eyes were slightly different, and his hair was much shorter, but other than that, it was kind of scary how much he reminded Katou of Kira.
Fuuma met the startled gaze with gentle eyes, reassuring and drawing further into the illusion; quashing his amusement at how much the boy looked like a startled bird at first. He guided him wordlessly to the table and nodded at the two chairs he'd managed to scrounge from the tiny, shady store down the street--it truly was charmingly bizarre that the city seemed to be lacking stock in the single chairs department.
"It's fine. I need to use these to cook." He grinned, waving the wooden spoon at the plate of mashed potatoes steaming under the vase and half-turning back to his cooking before glancing over his shoulder. "I hope you don't mind dinner a little late--I did tell you I was out of practice. Would you like something to drink in the meantime?"
Katou sat down, feeling a lot more at home than been in his entire life (or death), excluding, perhaps, the few times where he had stayed at Kira’s house (but even those sometimes were somewhat unpleasant, as Kira and his father had bickered almost constantly).
“I don’t mind at all,” Katou answered. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that the later they ate, the later he’d have to leave, and then another voice reminded him that he had just met this Kamui fellow and just because he reminded him of Kira didn’t mean he was Kira. “What all do you got to drink?”
"I'm glad." Fuuma favored him with another brilliant smile as he finished mixing everything into the pot and sprinkled the salt in with a seemingly indiscriminate hand, then put the lid on before turning to the fridge and rummaging through it, listing distractedly, "I haven't had so much time to find where all the groceries are... I have... milk, and apricot juice, it seems. Ah, yes, and chocolate milk." A few clunks and thuds later--"Soda. Ginger ale?"
Chocolate milk. You’re not a kid any more. I want chocolate milk! You’re gonna make a fool out of yourself, man. Oh, come on, Kira only laughs at me when I get chocolate milk. He doesn’t think any less of me. ... Touche.
“I’ll have some chocolate milk, I guess,” Katou said after a brief hesitation, trying to sound nonchalant and cool as he said it. “So, what’s for eats? Smells great.”
"Hmm, my favorite," Fuuma commented as he extracted the carton and pulled two mugs from the nearby cabinet with the combined effort of both hands. "I haven't had the chance to try the chocolate milk here yet--it doesn't go so well with cookies, you see." Closing the refrigerator door with a dismissive foot, he leaned over to lift the lid of the pot with the wooden spoon, mugs in the other hand, and sniffed at it. "Mm~ Pasta. I would have tried my hand at spaghetti; it seems more universally appreciated, but they don't seem to sell tomato sauce in this neighborhood." Shaking his head, he set down Katou's drink and took a gulp of his own, emerging with a highly satisfied expression and looking down at his pot again. "Looks like it should be about done. Give me a moment."
Minutes later the fresh plate was set on the table, heaped with an assortment of colorful greens and reds and oranges (vegetables all, but greens were so monotonous after a while), glazed with a sauce that Fuuma vaguely remembered the parts to, meat and pasta glistening invitingly. He himself took a seat at the table (already set) and leaned forward with a smile. "Go ahead and help yourself."
Katou grinned, and thought (for just a moment before feeling extremely guilty) that Kamui was even better than Kira because he didn’t even laugh. He happily drank his chocolate milk.
When the food was laid out in front of him, he stared in awe. He really hadn’t eaten a decent meal since he ran away from home when he was a kid, and even the food he got there never looked quite this good (not that his mom wasn’t a good cook, just that his dad never seemed to approve of Katou eating a great meal). “Thanks,” he said, dishing some of the food onto his plate and looking at it hungrily. Had he been politer, he might have waited a little longer before he ate incase there was something Kamui did before he ate, but he really wasn’t the politest guy around, so with a hearty “Itadakimasu,” he dug into his food.
Fuuma waited a moment to see if his guest needed anything else of the plentiful provisions on the table--as well as to observe the eagerness with which he set to the meal with a quiet chuckle. "You like it. Gratifying to know that I've not entirely lost my ability to cook." He turned to his own plate and served himself plenty of everything as well--cooking had always given him an appetite, wasn't it only natural?--before quietly accepting the meal and joining his guest.
There was pleasant and pleased silence for a little while, as the meal went past the first hunger-driven stages and wound down a little--for Fuuma, at least; his guest seemed to appreciate the food even more than he had initially as time wore on. "Ah, be careful. You'll give yourself a stomachache that way, Katou-san. Here." He reached forward and slid the other a tissue, ever the attentive host. It seemed that his new acquaintance was quite as straightforward and simple in person as he'd seemed during their communications, a welcome discovery in the midst of angels' intrigues and devils' manners. Besides which, Fuuma quite enjoyed having his cooking so well appreciated.
“Of course I like it,” Katou replied, his voice slightly muffled due to the fact that he often spoke with his mouth full.
As the meal wore on and Kamui warned him against eating too fast, Katou grinned. “Pfft, a little stomachache’s worth it for the great food,” he said. He took the napkin, wiped his lips with it, and then wiped his lips again with his sleeve just to make sure there wasn’t any food left behind. “Where’d you learn to cook? It’s super good.” Whether it was the fact that Kamui reminded him of Kira, someone who he was sure he’d never see again, or that Katou hadn’t eaten something other than fast food for years, or just the simple fact that it really was that good, Katou wasn’t entirely sure.
He did know, however, that now that he was more or less done his supper, he was probably going to need to leave fairly soon. “Do you want me to help clean up?” he offered before he had actually thought about what he was saying. Since when did Katou help clean up?
"Half self-taught," Fuuma replied, after a moment of searching for the correct way to describe the mishmash of knowledge he had; raised an eyebrow slightly at Katou's mannerisms at the table, which betrayed a certain 'self-taught' air as well. It smoothed into an agreeable nod after a moment as he began gathering the dishes. "If you would like to help with the drying... And of course, meantime, you can treat me to those stories you promised me?"
“Of course,” Katou said, standing up to help gather some of the dishes. “S’easier than washing anyway.” He had always preferred to dry. Half the time he could do a sloppy job of it and the dishes would dry off on their own anyway. “What do you wanna know?”
[...]
“And then the lousy fucker put his arm right through me. Severed a bunch of cells too,” he waved the large metal claw he had where his real arm had once been. He had just finished telling of his first encounter with Lucifer. “One of the angels on our side, his name was Riuet, he took my arm to dissect and built me this new one.”
Katou scowled slightly, then turned towards the window. He gave a bit of a start. It was already fairly dark out. He hadn’t remembered talking for that long, but he must have. “Shit, I must’ve bored you to death,” Katou muttered apologetically. “I’ll leave now.”
"Not at all." Fuuma wore that same indecipherable smile, same inscrutable warmth, but there was a new element to it that might have seemed almost sincere when he reached out and caught Katou's arm--the bulky metal one, running fingers over artificial tendons and muscle and allowing his fingers to trail to rest between the wicked great claws with a sort of muted wonder. "Thank you for entrusting me with your story and your memories... I will treasure them through any and all manifestations of this world's future." He looked up, then, gazes locking even as he rose to his feet. "I would love to hear more--but I'm sure you have someone at home who's worried about you. Please give them my apologies for keeping you."
Katou blushed slightly when Kamui touched him, but didn’t pull away. He didn’t even advert his gaze when Kamui met his gaze. “I…” he coughed slightly, before looking sidelong at the wall, almost as if he was rolling his eyes before bringing them back to Kamui’s face, not his eyes this time, but his lips. His eyes, though shaped somewhat different, reminded him so much of Kira (for that matter, so did his lips but Katou could ignore that). “Actually, I uh… don’t have a home or anyone to go back to for that matter.” He laughed. “I must be intruding on your personal space though.”
Fuuma's smile dimmed immediately, for all the other's attempts at a dismissive tone, and he tilted his head to look into Katou's eyes. "That's not true at all," he said softly, eyes darkening as he shook his head. "Aloneness is a terrible thing; I would be ashamed to leave one of my friends to it on the streets. Katou-san." His fingers trailed up the claws on the hand they'd been resting in, tip to tip, precarious as the delicacy of his offer. For just a moment, then he grinned and broke the tension. "You will be staying with me, then. I had been meaning to look for a roommate; in a city this large and unknown, one can only rely on the companions alongside."
Katou tried hard not to blush again. He didn’t know why exactly he kept wanting to blush, since Kira never made him blush just by doing things like that (not that Kira ever really did them). “You sure about that?” Katou asked, his voice much cooler than how he felt. “I bet I’m a shitty roommate. I mean, I bet I snore when I get to sleep, and I don’t sleep much, and I’m kind of loud and annoying.”
Fuuma's expression slid easily into a friendly smirk as he shook his head, laughter hiding at the corners of his lips. "My dear Katou-san. Let me tell you of my previous roommates: a spoiled and very high-maintenance lady who had a tendency to demand coffee at two-o'clock in the morning, a hard-working gentleman who usually returned home in time to get her that coffee, a girl who would trail her electronic appliances into the kitchen, the bathrooms as well as half the bedrooms on her floor... shall I go on? I'm fairly sure well over half of them were insomniacs of some sort." He shared the human traces of the Angels easily and freely--no human could fully shed their humanity, after all. "As for myself, well, it's a kind of home, if you know what I mean?"
Katou looked at him, in something resembling awe, pity and disbelief. “Wow, sucks pretty hard to be you I guess. I doubt you got a place for me to sleep though…” He wasn’t looking at Kamui any more, instead looking at a place right above his right shoulder. When he smirked like that, he looked almost exactly like Kira.
Fuuma actually laughed at that, a soft delighted sound. "You'd be surprised. It seems like this city favors community living--the apartments come furnished with, apparently, either bunks or multiple bedrooms." He gestured to the hallway behind him in amusement. "I myself was not aware that this apartment had four or so bedrooms until I moved in. Perhaps the city hid them from me until the time was right?" Running one hand through his hair and still chuckling, he slanted a mischievous look at Katou. "Any more excuses, Katou-san? Because you know, the street is not for you tonight."
Katou shook his head, rubbing the back of it with his right hand slightly. “Well, I can’t really think of any at the moment.” He shot Kamui a bit of a smirk. “I guess I ain’t got much of a choice, hmm?” Of course, if he could think of some good ones later, he’d definitely have to bring them up.
Rating; PG
Characters; Fuuma (
antichristsmile) & Katou (katoustheshit)Summary; Fuuma invites Katou over for dinner and a story, and criminal amounts of cuteness ensue. Fuuma, you bastard. D: (Also, Katou gets a place to sleep. ♥)
Log;
His apartment was only sparsely furnished at best, but Fuuma liked to think that what small touches he'd managed so far to the minimal decor had given it something of the warmth and welcoming air of a true home, in which he might be living for a while... The curtains were dark but fuzzy, light glowing through as though caught in winter frost; the walls were a warm peach orange, sun-ripened; and the furnishings were various shades of plush red and royal purple, zany yellow and green cushions peeking everywhere. The dining room table had a single vase in the shape of a music note on it, spreading wings across the box of tissue beneath.
It was a far cry from the sterility and austere elegance preferred and instigated by Kanoe in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, and fulfilled a little part of what he thought had been missing in that base. All that was missing was, perhaps, a stuffed animal or two--he'd have liked to entertain Ururu-chan better if he could--and, of course, guests who came and went with the afterimages of the sun's lifetimes, blurred and warm.
And that would be remedied tonight--the amusing and frank character of the one he'd met yesterday, who called himself 'Katou', had led Fuuma to anticipate the addition of his personality to the little he'd managed to give his apartment. Accordingly, the Angel was currently busy with anticipation, passing between the dining room table and the stove laden with dishes and cookingware; the smell of food wafted across the room and out the half-open window, declaring to all the world today's occasion--Fuuma was entertaining.
Katou had been rather surprised when an invitation to Kamui’s place had been dropped on his head, but he really was rather looking forward to seeing someone. The ticking had grown increasingly more annoying whenever he wasn’t with someone (mostly Alexiel), especially after talking with Kamui and having his thoughts once again on both Kira and Setsuna. It was almost maddening.
He was aware, somewhat, of Hatter telling him that Kamui wasn’t exactly trustworthy, but Katou would decide that himself. Besides, since when had he actually trusted someone, besides Kira and Setsuna. He didn’t really have anything to worry about as far as that went.
He looked at the address on the invitation again, before going into the building and ringing Kamui’s bell.
The doorbell caught Fuuma in the middle of a balancing act involving several plates of vegetables and meat about to go into the pot, the cooking utensils as well as the salt shaker and the sugar bag. Putting down the plates for the moment and turning the heat on low (it was only halfway done, but it being the main course, he supposed they could satisfy themselves on what he had already cooked), he tucked salt and sugar under one arm, spatula and wooden spoon under the other, and went to answer the door.
A warm smile greeted the youth who stood outside, as Fuuma opened the door wider and invited him in with a slightly awkward gesture, managing somehow not to drop any of what he was carrying in the process. "Thank you for coming, Katou-san. I don't have much in here at the moment, but I hope you'll be comfortable."
Katou’s mouth dropped open, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. “Ki--“ He started to croak, but before he finished he cleared his throat. No, despite what he first thought, this wasn’t Kira. He just looked similar, as though he could have been the long lost brother Katou never knew about.
He forced a smile in return, still feeling rather shocked. It felt like a slap in the face really. Not that he really minded, suddenly all thoughts about what Hatter had said about Kamui being untrustworthy left him. “Want me to help carry anything?” Katou asked, his voice much more normal. He stepped inside and slipped off his shoes.
Katou took a better look at him. Kamui was a bit taller than Kira, his eyes were slightly different, and his hair was much shorter, but other than that, it was kind of scary how much he reminded Katou of Kira.
Fuuma met the startled gaze with gentle eyes, reassuring and drawing further into the illusion; quashing his amusement at how much the boy looked like a startled bird at first. He guided him wordlessly to the table and nodded at the two chairs he'd managed to scrounge from the tiny, shady store down the street--it truly was charmingly bizarre that the city seemed to be lacking stock in the single chairs department.
"It's fine. I need to use these to cook." He grinned, waving the wooden spoon at the plate of mashed potatoes steaming under the vase and half-turning back to his cooking before glancing over his shoulder. "I hope you don't mind dinner a little late--I did tell you I was out of practice. Would you like something to drink in the meantime?"
Katou sat down, feeling a lot more at home than been in his entire life (or death), excluding, perhaps, the few times where he had stayed at Kira’s house (but even those sometimes were somewhat unpleasant, as Kira and his father had bickered almost constantly).
“I don’t mind at all,” Katou answered. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that the later they ate, the later he’d have to leave, and then another voice reminded him that he had just met this Kamui fellow and just because he reminded him of Kira didn’t mean he was Kira. “What all do you got to drink?”
"I'm glad." Fuuma favored him with another brilliant smile as he finished mixing everything into the pot and sprinkled the salt in with a seemingly indiscriminate hand, then put the lid on before turning to the fridge and rummaging through it, listing distractedly, "I haven't had so much time to find where all the groceries are... I have... milk, and apricot juice, it seems. Ah, yes, and chocolate milk." A few clunks and thuds later--"Soda. Ginger ale?"
Chocolate milk. You’re not a kid any more. I want chocolate milk! You’re gonna make a fool out of yourself, man. Oh, come on, Kira only laughs at me when I get chocolate milk. He doesn’t think any less of me. ... Touche.
“I’ll have some chocolate milk, I guess,” Katou said after a brief hesitation, trying to sound nonchalant and cool as he said it. “So, what’s for eats? Smells great.”
"Hmm, my favorite," Fuuma commented as he extracted the carton and pulled two mugs from the nearby cabinet with the combined effort of both hands. "I haven't had the chance to try the chocolate milk here yet--it doesn't go so well with cookies, you see." Closing the refrigerator door with a dismissive foot, he leaned over to lift the lid of the pot with the wooden spoon, mugs in the other hand, and sniffed at it. "Mm~ Pasta. I would have tried my hand at spaghetti; it seems more universally appreciated, but they don't seem to sell tomato sauce in this neighborhood." Shaking his head, he set down Katou's drink and took a gulp of his own, emerging with a highly satisfied expression and looking down at his pot again. "Looks like it should be about done. Give me a moment."
Minutes later the fresh plate was set on the table, heaped with an assortment of colorful greens and reds and oranges (vegetables all, but greens were so monotonous after a while), glazed with a sauce that Fuuma vaguely remembered the parts to, meat and pasta glistening invitingly. He himself took a seat at the table (already set) and leaned forward with a smile. "Go ahead and help yourself."
Katou grinned, and thought (for just a moment before feeling extremely guilty) that Kamui was even better than Kira because he didn’t even laugh. He happily drank his chocolate milk.
When the food was laid out in front of him, he stared in awe. He really hadn’t eaten a decent meal since he ran away from home when he was a kid, and even the food he got there never looked quite this good (not that his mom wasn’t a good cook, just that his dad never seemed to approve of Katou eating a great meal). “Thanks,” he said, dishing some of the food onto his plate and looking at it hungrily. Had he been politer, he might have waited a little longer before he ate incase there was something Kamui did before he ate, but he really wasn’t the politest guy around, so with a hearty “Itadakimasu,” he dug into his food.
Fuuma waited a moment to see if his guest needed anything else of the plentiful provisions on the table--as well as to observe the eagerness with which he set to the meal with a quiet chuckle. "You like it. Gratifying to know that I've not entirely lost my ability to cook." He turned to his own plate and served himself plenty of everything as well--cooking had always given him an appetite, wasn't it only natural?--before quietly accepting the meal and joining his guest.
There was pleasant and pleased silence for a little while, as the meal went past the first hunger-driven stages and wound down a little--for Fuuma, at least; his guest seemed to appreciate the food even more than he had initially as time wore on. "Ah, be careful. You'll give yourself a stomachache that way, Katou-san. Here." He reached forward and slid the other a tissue, ever the attentive host. It seemed that his new acquaintance was quite as straightforward and simple in person as he'd seemed during their communications, a welcome discovery in the midst of angels' intrigues and devils' manners. Besides which, Fuuma quite enjoyed having his cooking so well appreciated.
“Of course I like it,” Katou replied, his voice slightly muffled due to the fact that he often spoke with his mouth full.
As the meal wore on and Kamui warned him against eating too fast, Katou grinned. “Pfft, a little stomachache’s worth it for the great food,” he said. He took the napkin, wiped his lips with it, and then wiped his lips again with his sleeve just to make sure there wasn’t any food left behind. “Where’d you learn to cook? It’s super good.” Whether it was the fact that Kamui reminded him of Kira, someone who he was sure he’d never see again, or that Katou hadn’t eaten something other than fast food for years, or just the simple fact that it really was that good, Katou wasn’t entirely sure.
He did know, however, that now that he was more or less done his supper, he was probably going to need to leave fairly soon. “Do you want me to help clean up?” he offered before he had actually thought about what he was saying. Since when did Katou help clean up?
"Half self-taught," Fuuma replied, after a moment of searching for the correct way to describe the mishmash of knowledge he had; raised an eyebrow slightly at Katou's mannerisms at the table, which betrayed a certain 'self-taught' air as well. It smoothed into an agreeable nod after a moment as he began gathering the dishes. "If you would like to help with the drying... And of course, meantime, you can treat me to those stories you promised me?"
“Of course,” Katou said, standing up to help gather some of the dishes. “S’easier than washing anyway.” He had always preferred to dry. Half the time he could do a sloppy job of it and the dishes would dry off on their own anyway. “What do you wanna know?”
[...]
“And then the lousy fucker put his arm right through me. Severed a bunch of cells too,” he waved the large metal claw he had where his real arm had once been. He had just finished telling of his first encounter with Lucifer. “One of the angels on our side, his name was Riuet, he took my arm to dissect and built me this new one.”
Katou scowled slightly, then turned towards the window. He gave a bit of a start. It was already fairly dark out. He hadn’t remembered talking for that long, but he must have. “Shit, I must’ve bored you to death,” Katou muttered apologetically. “I’ll leave now.”
"Not at all." Fuuma wore that same indecipherable smile, same inscrutable warmth, but there was a new element to it that might have seemed almost sincere when he reached out and caught Katou's arm--the bulky metal one, running fingers over artificial tendons and muscle and allowing his fingers to trail to rest between the wicked great claws with a sort of muted wonder. "Thank you for entrusting me with your story and your memories... I will treasure them through any and all manifestations of this world's future." He looked up, then, gazes locking even as he rose to his feet. "I would love to hear more--but I'm sure you have someone at home who's worried about you. Please give them my apologies for keeping you."
Katou blushed slightly when Kamui touched him, but didn’t pull away. He didn’t even advert his gaze when Kamui met his gaze. “I…” he coughed slightly, before looking sidelong at the wall, almost as if he was rolling his eyes before bringing them back to Kamui’s face, not his eyes this time, but his lips. His eyes, though shaped somewhat different, reminded him so much of Kira (for that matter, so did his lips but Katou could ignore that). “Actually, I uh… don’t have a home or anyone to go back to for that matter.” He laughed. “I must be intruding on your personal space though.”
Fuuma's smile dimmed immediately, for all the other's attempts at a dismissive tone, and he tilted his head to look into Katou's eyes. "That's not true at all," he said softly, eyes darkening as he shook his head. "Aloneness is a terrible thing; I would be ashamed to leave one of my friends to it on the streets. Katou-san." His fingers trailed up the claws on the hand they'd been resting in, tip to tip, precarious as the delicacy of his offer. For just a moment, then he grinned and broke the tension. "You will be staying with me, then. I had been meaning to look for a roommate; in a city this large and unknown, one can only rely on the companions alongside."
Katou tried hard not to blush again. He didn’t know why exactly he kept wanting to blush, since Kira never made him blush just by doing things like that (not that Kira ever really did them). “You sure about that?” Katou asked, his voice much cooler than how he felt. “I bet I’m a shitty roommate. I mean, I bet I snore when I get to sleep, and I don’t sleep much, and I’m kind of loud and annoying.”
Fuuma's expression slid easily into a friendly smirk as he shook his head, laughter hiding at the corners of his lips. "My dear Katou-san. Let me tell you of my previous roommates: a spoiled and very high-maintenance lady who had a tendency to demand coffee at two-o'clock in the morning, a hard-working gentleman who usually returned home in time to get her that coffee, a girl who would trail her electronic appliances into the kitchen, the bathrooms as well as half the bedrooms on her floor... shall I go on? I'm fairly sure well over half of them were insomniacs of some sort." He shared the human traces of the Angels easily and freely--no human could fully shed their humanity, after all. "As for myself, well, it's a kind of home, if you know what I mean?"
Katou looked at him, in something resembling awe, pity and disbelief. “Wow, sucks pretty hard to be you I guess. I doubt you got a place for me to sleep though…” He wasn’t looking at Kamui any more, instead looking at a place right above his right shoulder. When he smirked like that, he looked almost exactly like Kira.
Fuuma actually laughed at that, a soft delighted sound. "You'd be surprised. It seems like this city favors community living--the apartments come furnished with, apparently, either bunks or multiple bedrooms." He gestured to the hallway behind him in amusement. "I myself was not aware that this apartment had four or so bedrooms until I moved in. Perhaps the city hid them from me until the time was right?" Running one hand through his hair and still chuckling, he slanted a mischievous look at Katou. "Any more excuses, Katou-san? Because you know, the street is not for you tonight."
Katou shook his head, rubbing the back of it with his right hand slightly. “Well, I can’t really think of any at the moment.” He shot Kamui a bit of a smirk. “I guess I ain’t got much of a choice, hmm?” Of course, if he could think of some good ones later, he’d definitely have to bring them up.