DEMONS [Fumikage Tokoyami x OC]

Epilogue 1 - If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn

Autumn sunshine warmed Tokoyami's cheek, waking him for the day.

He stretched and yawned, his limbs trembling with sleep. His weary fingers searched the expanse of familiar sheets, looking for his person. Emptiness answered. Furrowing his brow, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, casting about for her in the gray morning light. His phone charged on the nightstand, no texts.

It was too early. Even for her.

The bedroom door creaked open and he refocused there, finding Azami backing into the room with a tray of breakfast, her lacy, mint green nightgown trailing on the hardwood floor behind her bare feet. She turned and shot him a wide smile, easy and sweet, sending his heart straight to his throat.

It had been five years since they'd graduated from UA, and Tokoyami worked as one of Hawks's sidekicks at his agency. Azami worked part-time with Thirteen on search and rescue missions, spending the rest of her time as Recovery Girl's apprentice, learning the ropes to eventually take over as UA's resident nurse when Recovery Girl eventually retired. In any spare time, she took online classes through the local university, aiming for a bachelor's degree in pre-med, with a dream of becoming a doctor someday.

"Glad to see you're awake," she said, setting the tray down on the bed next to Tokoyami's legs. "I went ahead and made breakfast because someone was out late being a Pro Hero again." Azami collapsed onto the bed next to him, sweeping her nightgown up to her knees. She peppered him in soft kisses, gently cupping his face in her fingertips.

Tokoyami hummed and closed his eyes, her loving warmth seeping into him like sunlight, like healing broth, like honey tea. "I don't even remember what time I got home last night," he muttered, words lost in her palms. He played with her inky hair, loving the length she'd grown it to - just brushing her shoulder blades - and searched his brain for an answer to his own question. He remembered getting back to the office at two-something, thinking they were done for the night, only to be called out once more...

"Nearly four," she answered, leaning her forehead against his. "Let's eat, we have a big day of rest and relaxation ahead of us." Azami planted one last kiss square between his eyes and pressed chopsticks into his hand.

Tokoyami sighed and turned to the tray, assessing the vegetarian breakfast Azami had assembled for them: sliced strawberries, yogurt and granola with generous drizzles of honey, grilled peach halves with flaky sea salt, and crispy whole wheat toast slathered with Nutella. They munched and snuggled, taking their time and lazing away their Saturday.

They had nowhere to be.

Or so Azami thought.

𝅘𝅥𝅯

Azami planned to spend the entire day inside, drinking tea and watching Ghibli movies and napping to their hearts' content. She saw the exhaustion in Tokoyami, wanted to carry it for him in the way that only she could, and anticipated a whole day of taking care of him. She didn't mind in the least.

But he insisted on walking to their favorite coffee shop to have a date, citing the fact that he couldn't remember the last time they'd gone on a clear-cut date, just the two of them, without getting interrupted by work or a villain or a friend in need. They showered together, taking their sweet time because why not, and got dressed, heading out into the autumn breeze with their fingers tangled together. Azami tugged on the hem of her pumpkin orange dress, sure it was static-stuck to her black tights. Tokoyami raised a brow at her, and she smiled innocently back, squeezing his hand and plucking lint from his thin black sweater.

He stuffed his free hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket for what felt like the hundredth time, feeling for the small velvet box. It nestled against a bruise on his ribs he'd acquired earlier that week during the destruction of a black market hub for illegal hero gear, and with just a wrong move or slight jostle, it stung his lungs, making it hard to breathe.