Utakane taking a bath, Kaneki taking his time washing Uta's silky hair and both relaxing and enjoying the touches and the peace
[This is stupidly long]
It’s the sound of glass breaking andthe telling patter of feet that wakes Uta. The headache he had whenhe’d fallen asleep thunders back to life, hammering into the back ofhis skull with every step he takes towards the intrusion. His naturaldefencive instincts flare up as well his territorial ones, cautionlacing every one of his actions as he creeps down the stairs thatconnect studio to loft.
It’s not unusual, he presumes, forrobbery to occur in this neighbourhood but he is a ghoul and thatdoesn’t always bode well in such situations, or ever. His senses aresharp, heightening under the pressure and with presence of someoneelse, someone his gut tells him is another ghoul or half thereof.
Uta’s lungs deflate when their eyesfind each other’s. One amber grey eye and the endless black and rubyhue of kakugan peer at Uta from the shadows, familiar slight frame asolid black silhouette in the unobstructed light of the moonstreaming in through the window he’s broken, milk white hair visibleand indicative. Kaneki Ken is standing in front of him, havingbroken into his home and business, and Uta has no idea quite what todo other than stare in bewilderment with his heart in his throat.
Silence carries between them in thickwaves that make breathing a chore for Uta, his eyes never leaving theyoung man in front of him even as he nears Kaneki, approaching him ashe might a wounded animal fearful of him skittering off into the hushof the night. As Uta passes the first doorway that veers off into asmall washroom, he runs a hand along the wall and feels for thelightswitch, flipping it and flooding the room with the harsh glareof industrial lighting. His gaze flickers from Kaneki for a meremoment to adjust but it’s enough time to allow the half-ghoul toclose in on his personal space.
He’s in front of Uta, not touching him,but close enough that Uta can feel how chilled he really is and theshivers that seize his muscles every other minute. Uta catcheshimself and steadies before reaching out and carefully laying hishand in the middle of Kaneki’s shoulders, licking his lips withconcentration as he keeps the pressure light and nonthreatening,silently inviting Kaneki further inside.
Uta gets him up the stairs and lights acandle, deciding the softer glow would better suit them both whencompared with the bitter bite of artificial lighting at this time ofnight. He then grabs the blanket thrown over the back of the sofa anddrapes it over Kaneki’s trembling shoulders in an attempt to warmhim, comfort him, and gestures for him to take a seat wherever helikes. Uta then goes to his kitchen and rummages a bit to find twotins of ready-made coffee, pours them into respective mugs and thenwarms them in the microwave. He presses one between Kaneki’s coldfingers, firm in his silent demand for him to drink.
Then, Uta waits.
He hasn’t known where Kaneki’s been forsome time now, no one has and most have written him off as dead. Utarationalised that was logical – the path Kaneki had chosen wasperilous and had taken him to the ends of his own wit and back andthen some, a path streaked with crimson and wrought with death –and allowed himself to buy into the lie, denying his heart any realtime to bud with hope. Yet, here he was, studying that very sameperson over the rim of his poor excuse of coffee and hospitality,anxiety balling up between his ribs and beneath his sternum, pressingdown with a heavy anchoring weight on his lungs and heart.
Kaneki moves, taking quick furtivesteps toward the edge of Uta’s bed and perching upon the corner. Hiseyes are cast down, kakugan gone and replaced with slate, looking athis reflection in the dark of the coffee in his cup which he hascradled between his hands. Uta thinks he looks lost and it twistssomething inside of him.
“Kaneki-kun,” he allows, his voicethick with sleep and disuse and loud in the silence between them. Thesounds of city life can be heard beyond the walls of the loft,drunken hollering and the pulsing hum of bass from nearby clubs butit doesn’t stir either of them, both focused only words neither canquite find.
Kaneki blinks, his eyelids slippingclosed for a long moment before fluttering open once more and hiseyes cast towards the mask maker. “No one knows I’m here.” It’sall he can make himself say, his thoughts hazy and scattered amongstthe pain he’s feeling and the sheer exhaustion that’s settling deepin his bones. His grip on the coffee mug tightens.
Uta nods, taking a sip of his coffee.He’d figured as much the moment he saw him downstairs, saw in thelines of his face that even he was surprised he’d come there. Itmakes Uta wonder what’s happened to Kaneki, what he could have beenput through to leave him so disorganised and out of tune withhimself. Then, he thinks that perhaps he doesn’t want to know at all.
There’s an underlying message in thewords as well that Uta picks up on; no one knows he’s here and so noone will. Uta takes another sip of the coffee and studies Kaneki abit further. He looks the same but altogether different in a way nottangible enough to be put in words. He’s gained muscle and bulk, haslet his hair get longer and has even grown just the faintest bittaller, but there’s still something he can’t place about this versionof Kaneki Ken. Something feels edgier, more feral in him than thelast time they’d been together, something Uta doesn’t know what tomake of without more information that he’s unwilling to ask for.
It’s his eyes, Uta decides whiledrinking in the last bit of coffee in his cup. They give away thechange in Kaneki clear enough to anyone with the talent of readingthem, of reading him. He’s battle-worn. Tired in a way sleep can’tfix and scarred in a manner beyond physicality. It’s sad to him whenUta thinks back on how hopeful and naive Kaneki had been the firsttime he blundered into this studio hidden behind Touka. Kaneki isn’tdoe-eyed and wondrous anymore and that breaks Uta’s heart the fairestbit.
Uta moves across the room to sit closerto Kaneki, again placing his hand on that same spot on Kaneki’s upperback to dispel the tension built up and knotted there. Kaneki leansinto the gentle touch and finally raises the cup of now roomtemperature coffee to his lips, gulping it down in such haste thatUta worries when he last drank anything. “Why are you here?” Utaat last asks, calm and casual. He asks as though he isn’t all thatinterested in the answer, asks in a way that won’t pressure Kaneki ormake him feel under observation.
Beneath his hand Uta can feel Kanekistiffen, muscle becoming taut with agitation and based on the suddentwitch Kaneki developed in his leg Uta could guess he was pressinginto territory that the other would rather run away from than talkabout.
He sighed, resigning himself to hisquestions going unanswered as he pushed away from the bed and wentinto the bathroom, turning on the tap to the tub and setting it tofill with hot water and a bit of jasmine oil to froth and addcomfort. Uta pulled his tank top off with ease, dropping it to thefloor between the door of the bathroom and the walk to his bed. Hetugged the blanket away from Kaneki, pausing to take the cup from hishands and set it on the bedside table to be dealt with later. He thenset to the task of slowly and methodically ridding Kaneki of hisclothing. Uta begins with the zipper at the nape of his neck,dragging it down, down Kaneki’s spine and loosening up the cling oflatex and lycra and pulls away his shirt. Uta takes note of someplaces along that expanse of firm chest were places where Kaneki hadseemingly been injured and hadn’t been allowed to fully heal beforeinfection set it, his RC cells then knitting himself back togetherbut with the briefest of scars left behind. He says nothing despitethe boiling of worry in his gut and carries on with his task, settinghis sights on Kaneki’s shorts.
He tugs them off and all but peels theleg wear from Kaneki’s legs, leaving him naked on the bed as Uta goesto check the bath. After shutting off the water, he returns andushers Kaneki to the bathroom with little protest, Kaneki’s sore anddesperate body hungry for the warmth and cleansing of the water. Hedips his toes in and wiggles them around before plopping down intothe tub altogether, water sloshing over the edge to slap against thehardwood. A moan of satisfaction slips between chapped lips.
Kaneki hardly notices when Uta joinshim, only taking note of the movement in the water and the tangle oftheir legs as the other settles behind him, adjusting the pair ofthem so that Kaneki’s head is cradled in the nook of Uta’s shoulder,strands of his long hair tickling and teasing at his neck. Uta’s armslock around Kaneki’s middle, hands splaying flat against his hips andsmoothing down to trail over thighs.
They stay like this for anindeterminable amount of time, they stay until Uta thinks that Kanekimay have fallen asleep against him. He shakes him, gentle and woefulof reaping away the relaxation of sleep and the obscure fortitude ofdreaming, but he doesn’t want to let the water get cold before eitherhave properly been rinsed.
Uta reaches for his bar of shampoo,dipping it beneath the water and passing it between his hands in theopen air until suds cover him and the scent of cinnamon tickles hisnose. His hands are soft as they part and slip between shockedstrands of white, washing away the filth and ruin. When he dipsKaneki’s head under the water, pushing down and bracing him with asecure arm around his shoulders while the other rinses out soap. Theoil in the water has worked to coat both their hairs and Uta’s justabout pull the drain and forgo his own washing in lieu of rest whenhe feels warm, water-pruned fingers close around his wrist and restagainst his pulse.
He turns, finds Kaneki looking at himwith an almost fearful look, pleading shining in his murky eyes andbattling weariness for dominance in the wear of his shoulders. “I’dlike to wash you, if that’s okay?” He asks, voice clear despite theconfusion displayed in every other aspect of himself, and Uta findshe can’t resists him. He sinks back into the fading heat of the bath,waiting, and sighs when he finally feels those soft yet capable handscaressing through his hair.
Bitten and ragged nails dig at hisscalp and Uta’s pulse races, letting Kaneki sort out his own patternand feel for things. It isn’t long until cinnamon again cracklesthrough the air around them and those fingers are delving into acurtain of wet ink, smooth in their curious mapping of the shorn areaof Uta’s unorthodox haircut. Kaneki takes care in washing all thebubbles out, pulling the chain of the plug when he’s finished andstanding to wait for Uta to fetch towels.
Once they’re both dry and Uta’sfinished wringing out his hair, he sets to finding them both a freshchange of clothing. He tugs on a pair of briefs and tosses the soddentowel on the back of his desk chair before rooting through hisdressers. He tosses a black tank top and a pair of loose grey pantsat Kaneki that would have once been a tad too big and loose on himbut now fit better to the muscle he’s amassed. Uta catches himselfstaring and shakes his head, forcing himself to remember that heneeds to be more on guard than to let such musings flutter by, evenif this is Kaneki and every part of him yearns for the days offamiliarity and easy caresses. Uta dresses himself in a pair ofcharcoal sweats and plain white t-shirt, crawling onto the bed andsinking into his usual nest of blankets, sheets, and pillows. Kanekiswitches the light off and follows suit, snuggling up to Uta’s sideunder a flannel blanket and going so far as to press a light butlingering kiss to the hollow of his throat, just beneath the thicklettering of ink there.
“I’ve missed you, Uta-san,” Kanekiwhispers before settling further into the joint warmth of the blanketand Uta. Uta smiles, running his hand through wet hair and down afirm arm, tucking it into the fold of Kaneki’s waistband and holdinghim more firmly to him. Uta doesn’t no what Kaneki’s been up to orwhat brought him here, but he’s glad for it all the same. Glad toonce more feel the weight of him saddled along his side, breathfanning out evenly and teasing the skin of his shoulder and neck.
When he wakes the next morning,Kaneki’s side of the bed is cold and Uta isn’t surprised. He doesn’thave to check to know the half-ghoul is gone, once more nothing but amemory in Uta’s heart and a whisper the wind clings to.
…
Some months later Uta receives word ofthe end of the SS-Rated Ghoul Centipede, the mask in his hand breaksinto crumbling bits of plaster.
Utakane prompt: Uta is reeeeeally disoriented in the mornings (messy hair, walks with his eyes closed, etc) and just follows his instincts/rutine but since Kaneki stayed over so he follows his scent and sniffs him until he awakes (love your writting!)
///// I always blush when people tell me they like what I write. But thank you so much! Best part of this prompt is I know exactly what it’s like to not be awake in the mornings. I walk around and do things before I wake up. XD
Uta was not a morning person. He never had been, and any customers of his had learned that the mask shop didn’t open until the afternoon.
But when he awoke in the mornings, everything he did was by rote. He’d long ago developed a routine, so it was easy to follow it until he fully woke. That routine usually consisted of getting a mug of coffee first thing, and half-dozing at the table until the caffeine started to work in his system.
Since Kaneki had become his lover, however, his scent permeated the household. It was stronger when the male was in residence, and he was more apt to follow the half-ghoul around, sort of like a puppy or a cat that needed its breakfast. Hair sticking out in every direction, he would loom over Kaneki, nuzzling the male’s neck and inhaling deeply.
There were times that Kaneki enjoyed it, and would huff with laughter, shoving a mug of coffee into the sleepy ghoul’s hands, waiting until the kakugan red eyes opened and weren’t glazed to start a conversation with him.
But other times, Kaneki didn’t want to be affectionate in the mornings. During those times, Uta would usually get a nip of sharp teeth to his throat. A nip that woke him far faster than coffee ever could. On days like that he would give the male his space, knowing that by the end of the day, he’d have a tired and needy half-ghoul in his arms.
Uta liked the tender days best of all, but as long as it was with Kaneki, any day was good for him.
