The Shirt

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Warning: Sleep Deprived Asami.

It was not something he wanted to deal with right now. After spending the day in a warehouse and teaching a couple uncultured yakuza the proper etiquette required with dealing with someone of his own status, Asami had planned get home and possibly sex up his Akihito before getting the much needed rest. Now it was ruining his plans.

It was boldly resting on his bed. It was going to die.

When Asami had first walked into his room, he had glanced toward his bed long enough to see the promising lump. Then he did a double take.

Akihito was in his bed.

Akihito was in his bed willingly.

Akihito was wearing a tee shirt too big for his frame, and briefs.

…Akihito was wearing a tee shirt that didn't belong to Asami.

He had no idea how long he stood there watching the foul thing defiling his bed and his cute Akihito. Mentally he ran inventory; the shirt definitely wasn't his; he would never own anything that shade of puce.

Akihito's clothes were placed in his closet, despite the many arguments that the two had had over the subject. He knew that shirt wasn't Akihitos. He would have seen it when they had unpacked and burned it. Or if he had missed it then, surely he would have come across it in the many times he opened his closet door over the past month.

So that all lead to the rather disturbing fact that Akihito was wearing a shirt that didn't belong to him in his bed. Clearly something had to be done.

For the first time in his life, Asami found himself floundering. Was it worth it to wake Akihito up and face his adorable irritableness when he was this tired? Maybe he should wait until morning and then casually bring it up, find out a name, burn the shirt when Akihito wasn't looking, and then go deal with the person that dared to give his Akihito a shirt?

Wait. That would mean that he would technically sleep in the same bed as the tee shirt of another man. And even if he pulled Akihito close to his chest that tee shirt would still come in between them no matter how close he held his photographer.

He could sleep on the couch…and then make Akihito pay for it later. But then that would mean that some other guy just pushed you out of your own bed! His mind supplied.

Well that solved that. Akihito was in for a wakeup call.

Carefully making his way around the bed, so as to not trip over the things Akihito recently started leaving all around the edges of the bed in some ridiculous attempt to get him to trip, he walked to his sleeping angel.

"Wake up Akihito."


"…Akihito…wake up…come on."

A slight shoulder movement. They were getting somewhere.


A pitiful whine emerged from the lump he was gently poking and Asami instantly fell back. One step forward and two steps back was always the case with Akihito, he reminded himself. Okay. Try again. Taking a deep breath and cursing himself for being a wimp when faced with Akihito's discomfort, Asami gently rubbed the smaller males back.

"Akihito…wake up."

He continued murmuring to the lump and was rewarded when the covers started shifting and more of that nasty tee shirt was revealed. Carefully masking his face, Asami watched as beautiful eyes cracked open and stared at him, uncomprehending but trusting. And heartbreakingly sad looking; most probably because his sleep was being disturbed.

Asami almost lost his will. Almost.

"Wake up Akihito." He said in the best commanding voice he could manage.

As expected the eyes cleared and Akihito sat up fully supporting himself. It didn't help that he was supporting the most adorable, confused expression that Asami had ever seen. Oh well.

Before Akihito could fully grasp what was going on, Asami grabbed hold of the shirt and ripped it off his lovers body. As if presenting evidence in a murder trial to his shrieking lover Asami demanded;

"What the hell is this?"

The protests immediately cut off as Akihito tried to process that, no, Asami wasn't asking (or rather demanding) sex but asking…what his tee shirt was?

"what?" …obviously nothing but the most intelligent responses were allowed to slip from Akihito's lips. His luscious…red…beautiful lips.

Again, Asami caught himself as he was seconds away from slipping. Focus!

"Who does this belong to?" he asked sternly.

Akihito blinked at him first, then at the tee shirt. Then he shrugged, causing Asami to literally feel his blood pressure go up.

"I don't know. I did my laundry with Kou today so maybe our clothes mixed…Can I go back to sleep now?"

Doing instant calculations in his head, Asami was quick to reply.

"No! And this shirt doesn't belong to him! It is much bigger than he prefers and your friend does not enjoy wearing baggy clothes. Who does this belong to Akihito?"

"…Should I be alarmed that you know Kou's clothing preferences?"

"Standard background researching knowledge. Now answer the question."

"You had background checks on Kou done? Why you bast-"

"Akihito. I will not say it again. Answer my question and keep your other insignificant worries to the side for the moment."

"I told you. Jeez. I don't know! I found it in my laundry this morning. I figured it had to be either mines or Kou's or yours! Now…what the hell you bastard? Insignificant worries? Why you-…"

Asami tuned his lover out while his brain tried to process that clearly; Akihito could be persuaded to wear anything. Who knew where this mysterious evil tee shirt that dared to make its way on his bed came from?

Still ignoring his adorable photographer (now ranting about being woken up for such ridiculous things) he grabbed the offensive cloth and walked out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

In the relative quietness of his living room, it became clear what was to be done. It was time. The situation had become much more severe than he had expected now that Akihito couldn't provide him with the information he needed.

Five minutes later Suoh and Kirishima were standing at attention in the room. Both looked as if they had not been just pulled out of bed after 26 hours of no sleep. He had clearly hired the right guards. Now it was time to put more than their looks to the test.

"Gentlemen." He began. Then paused. It was dire that they recognized the severity and emphasis this mission required.

He began again. "Gentlemen. It has recently come to my attention that a grave act against me has been committed.

"Yes. Committed. As in already happened. As in no one took care to stop it."

He could see both his guards shift minutely in uneasiness. Good. They should be. Uneasy, that was.

"However, because I am kind and forgiving…" he could hear Akihito laughing in some corner of his mind and grimaced, further causing his guards alarm, "I am willing to allow you to rectify the situation."

Two inaudible sighs of relief escaped into the cold night air.

Asami headed to the chair where he had deposited…it, and lifted it. He held it with the least amount of care as possible without dropping. Turning around he could see immediate change in his guards. Both Kirishima and Suoh no longer had any color in their faces.

"Speak." Asami always found that one word demands worked so efficiently.

"Sir." Ahh, Kirishima then.


"Sir…that shirt…belongs to me."



"…Did my shirt…offend you in any way?" Kirishima asked carefully, not liking the near satanic look upon his boss's face at all.

"Did you just say…this shirt belonged to…you?" Asami was speaking in the tone he used right before he shot someone. Suoh and Kirishima found themselves highly nervous.

"…yes Sir."

Asami was fighting the good fight: The Inner War. To kill or not to kill his right hand man, that was indeed the question. However much his hand was itching to feel his gun at the moment, years of discipline and the rational part of his mind won out.

" Kirishima…by any chance did you run into Akihito today?"

The bewildered look was completely justified as it was Asami himself that ordered Kirishima to keep an eye on Akihito.

"Yes sir…?"

"Was he doing laundry?"


"Answer the question" Asami growled.

"I think he mentioned it at one point sir…it was probably a response from the conversation we had earlier today…about the housekeeping services this building has."

Briefly wondering why his photographer and his bodyguard were conversing about such mundane topics, Asami pursued his questioning.

"Do you do your own laundry Kirishima?" he received the look he got before but thankfully, an answer without further prodding.

"Only the clothes that I get dirty due to the interrogations…as you ordered us. Sir."

"Sir. If I may" Suoh spoke for the first time, and waited for the nod of approval.


"Sir. Our floor has a maid that does our laundry every Thursday, which obviously happens to be today. I believe that in delivering clothes the maid and Akihito rode the same elevator."

And suddenly everything was clear.

Akihito and Kirishima were talking about laundry earlier that day which prompted Akihito to remember that he probably needed to get his own done soon. This gave him an incentive to call Kou to ask him to join on the boring task, who thought that he should probably should make use of the time and get his own laundry done. After they were finished Akihito had probably gotten driven back to the apartment by Suoh and bumped into the maid who had Kirishima's laundry with her at the same time. They had both ridden up together and in some misunderstanding, dropped the clothes and hurriedly separated them before going along their own way.

It all made sense now.

But there was still one thing to do.

"Kirishima…take this."

His trusted guard hesitantly took the horrible shirt away.

"I want you to burn that and have a letter on my desk by tomorrow, stating that you will never buy another shit that color. That goes for you also Suoh…Actually. Send out a missive. No one is allowed to buy shirts of that particular shade. Ever. Now leave."

The rational part of his mind understood it when both his guards literally fled from his apartments like his enemies on fire.

What lovely imagery.

Now. What had Akihito been saying about sleep?