Chapter Text
"Perhaps I should take a lesson from you and pad my coat with a bit of faux fur. You look rather cozy."
And it was getting colder. They didn't start this meeting like last time when he had just assisted LoudCloud with another jump at a den of dishonorable villains.
No art, just disgusting habits. An unlikely crime-fighting fellow, considering LoudCloud could be pretty sure he was behind quite a few thieving escapades on the news... very flashy, talking about them but not admitting anything--oh, it was another story.
That said, today Mr. Compress inquired about a meeting about something important. It could be anything, truly, considering the cold season kept heroes jam-packed,
with new issues constantly crawling out.
"Care to give me a little cloud ride, hm? Could use a warm shoulder to sit next to."
“Is that why you called me here?” Oboro – NOT LoudCloud – retorted, very much unheroically. The cloud that had carried him to the rooftop where they agreed to meet only fended off so much of the biting wind that made his nose red and running.
He sniffled, crossing his arms in a display of several things: He was *cold*. He was tired after a long day of work, and if the *important meeting* were just a cheap way to hitch a hike, he’d be pretty pissed too. Officially, he was off duty, yet he was doing overtime. Kinda.
Not that anyone could know he was affiliated with this vigilante… It was a bold venture; he risked his hero license by working with Mr. Compress. Secretly. Why exactly was he here? Why was he doing this? In times like these, LoudCloud had his doubts.
But right now, he was too tired to care. And maybe a little bit too lonely, too. With Christmas approaching and everyone making plans with their loved ones, the young hero was reminded that he was too busy for any of that. So he shrugged and tilted his head. “Whatever. Hop on.”
"Golly, I think it's the first time I see you grumpy, Sunshine Cloud." With a blue glow, his cane disappears, and he hops onto the cloud with the balance of an acrobat.
Settling down on the strange surface, he brings up a folded handkerchief and extends it in an offer.
"You can keep it. Harsh day, late hour, ungrateful civilians, I get it." Nothing quite like a pouty hero. They were a gentle lot, after all. Gentle or sadistic, little in between. "Mind dropping me off somewhere in Akihabara? And for your comfort - rooftops are quiet tonight."
Grateful, the hero-off-duty took the handkerchief and blew his nose, not at all elegantly. Or decent. Very much civilian and youthful, actually. “Thanks,” he added belatedly and somewhat nasally. Careful not to comment on the remarks about his mood, Oboro just shrugged.
With a bit of hum and another blue glow, the thief produces two thermoses. "Are you still on actual duty? Depending on the answer, I have different offerings. That said, a good hot toddy would warm you right up."
As a few other things would, but he held back on that suggestion.
They flew off without much ado, wind rushing through cloudy hair, playing with the straps of the hero’s headband. Oboro eyed the offered thermo suspiciously, but then remembered… “I’m off, but I still hope you’re not trying to get me drunk?”
"That is mean! I’m not that sort of villain. And that said – I wouldn't even need to be a villain if making another person drunk was our goal." Not that he sounded hurt, but the complaint still rang. "If I wanted you drunk, I'd ask you directly, I promise."
Not that it would matter, considering he had nowhere to be hereafter, other than his lonely futon in his empty flat. Oboro pouted and took a big sip, yelping when he found the liquid too hot to drink. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!”
Compress shook his head at the coughing hero. "Take it easy, I won't tear it away from your mouth."
Mister leaned back, shoulder pressed against the hero's, choosing to brace himself on his arm and enjoy the late-night ride, the crisp air getting to his lungs even through his mask.
Oboro wiped his mouth with a fully-gloved hand, befitting for winter. No, it was not his season. He didn’t like the cold. It just reminded him that there was nobody by his side to fend it off. “I thought you weren’t a *villain*,” he quipped once he could.
"Hero, villain, vigilante – depends on who asks." Mister deflects with little more than a shrug or a chuckle. "Your clear-cut lines aren't mine, but we've talked about this. Why else would you be here?"
Why indeed? Perhaps to perform that hero grind he just mentioned. Or...
Oboro rolled his eyes playfully at the dramatic reply that was way too philosophical right now for him. "Just kidding," he mumbled, trying his luck with another sip — a more careful one.
"So, any plans for the last couple weeks of the year? Big hero charity ball? Religious vigilance? Or will you be hunting for restless villains pickpocketing at the seasonal sales? Coasting the night sky and catching a cold, playing a lonesome hero? Winter isn't your season, hm?"
Oboro was still pouting when he eyed Compress from the side, not inching away to get a polite distance between them. But he did shrug. “Hero work. Gotta do some grinding if we wanna get our hero agency going any time soon. So, the usual.” Nothing exciting about Christmas for him.
He raised his finger, swirling it in the air. Above the vigilante’s head, a cloud appeared that went up and down a couple of times, until snowflakes just as tiny as the cloud itself started falling down on him. “Not my season, no. Even the villains are too cold to do much bad.”
"Oh, how precious!" Came the sincere words, laced with charmed amusement and enamouring chuckle. Mister tilted his head back, letting the small, quirk-made powder of snow land on his mask and palm when he raised it, held out as if to cup it.
"Shame, you go well with snow."
This was what Oboro enjoyed most about this work — bringing people joy. It was a bit sad that he couldn't see the other man's smile behind his mask, but his joy was ringing in his voice.
Oboro smiled, feeling more like himself and less bummed again. At least for a moment.
"Well, you know what they say about hard-working people... either they have someone to work for, or they have no one at home. Or both."
Compress offers, and it's mean, and fishing for information, clearly. But…
He didn't expand further. Instead, he continued along a sister path.
"I suppose I'll be keeping myself busy as well. Should we meet for a Christmas dinner atop a rooftop? Or a joyous new year, lost in the noise and yearly magical fireworks?" Mister taps his foot against the cloud, toying with the bouncy softness. "Put me in your schedule, yes?"
The little smile the hero hides behind his cup falters at Compress' remark, but freezes rather than slips – oh so heroically.
What an unnecessary reminder that his two best friends would spend their first Christmas together... And his crush had other, very self-indulgent plans.
“I have plans on New Year’s,” he answered, averting his eyes. Thankfully, his hair had been a darker gray with the cold so that it wouldn’t betray him too much. (Or so he hoped…)
"But Christmas sounds nice. Might be a bit late tho, gotta work."
Another sip and nod.
"Don't worry, I don't exactly have regular hours myself." A little surprised this wasn't a hard no, but Mister would absolutely take it. Some good company was vital in cold hours. "Maybe there is even a place to spend a little time next to a, let's say, a heater, perhaps?"
That should help with a bad mood over biting cold. And as much as the cloud was cozy and fun, it wasn't really heated, either.
They could also spend it running after some graceless scum, too. That usually keeps a person warm, even for just a while.
"That said, in case–oh, Akihabara! Don't drop me off just yet." Mister sits up, undoing his coat to fish out a marble from his inner pocket. "In case you are too busy, or I am otherwise occupied, here you go – I didn't see anything about you being allergic."
He unmarbled a small thing, wrapped in sparkling foil, tied with a ribbon, with a red, unopened card attached to it to complete it.
"Merry Christmas, New King be born and all that – rejoice with candy! Don't worry, these are bought, pre-packed but fancy, store card inside."
Oboro blinked, taking the gift with visible confusion. A little flush sneaked up to his cheeks that was definitely not caused by the cold wind biting at them. “I- I didn’t know we were doing Christmas gifts.” If he did, he would have gotten *something*.
But he didn’t, so he had nothing, which only embarrassed him more. Oboro looked up to Mister with a lop-sided smile. “Thank you, that’s really nice.” He tucked it into his cloud to open it later, maybe on Christmas day, since that was the polite thing to do.
“You are most welcome! I hope you enjoy them." Well, there were many ways to catch heroes off guard, weren't they? Clearly, not all of them had to be a mean remark, a smack with a cane, or a stunning escape show.
“I guess I gotta give you your thing when we meet for Christmas.” Or rather if they met, given Mister’s heads-up. He offered an awkward smile, looking down for a second. Akihabara. That ride was over surprisingly soon. “Well, we’re here. I guess this is your stop, right?”
"So it is. Would you mind landing me just on that building there?"
He doesn't immediately hop off when LoudCloud hovers them atop the roof, the light from the stairway door pouring out. Mister hums, one leg already dangling off the cloud.
"If you'd like to give me a gift today, I have an idea of what I'd like, at no cost to your pocket."
He's had an idea for a while now, and it was a lovely way to warm one in the cold as well. Or, at the very least, keep the mind warm until the body could catch up.
He leans towards the hero mask, grinning, tilting his hat back. "I'd fancy a kiss. No mistletoe needed."
Oboro's mouth dropped open even wider. Did he hear right?! A kiss!?
He had never kissed anyone, somehow vigilant and quick enough to dodge any coming his way during fan meet and greets and other events.
Pecks on the cheek? Plenty. More than that. But on the lips?!
The cloud hero flushed bright red, stammering for some pathetic moments before he caught himself. He took a deep breath before he looked Mr. Compress in the eye, still blushing and blinking, but…
He stood his ground. Heroically.
Although he was basically a teenager, still.
An adult one, with his 19 years. Old and mature enough for hero work, mind you.
"Well, I... I never..." he started, but words failed him as the embarrassment took over again. "I never..."
Not a yes. Either a no. Just a clueless glance to the side.
The building did look tall...
"You could just say no instead of considering a jump."
Truthfully, the dear hero didn't quite know what awaited him under Mister's mask, after all.
Still, he slipped off his hat first, setting it on the cloud and, finally, for the first time, plucked off the grinning mask.
Not much to see - the balaclava mostly covered him. But Oboro could still look at the amused, amber and fox-like eyes, a smudge of black pencil around them, a pointy nose, and a half-smile that proved to match the whole persona so far.
He couldn't have been older than Oboro, at all.
"Never kissed a thief?" He offers some grace. "I suppose I've never kissed a hero. Inexperience isn't bad in good company."
What Oboro saw, even with the balaclava hiding all identifying features, was enough for him to stare; all flusteredness and embarrassment wiped off his mind for a moment. He never expected this, not in a million years… Not with how spiteful and crass Mr. Compress was.
The young man had the most beautiful eyes, a deep, glistening amber that seemed to be glowing with the city lights reflecting in them. They pierced right through him, sharp and witty as Mr. Compress was. The offering of grace passed him. The hero was taken off guard
and entirely flabbergasted. He stared and stared and stared, until the realization clicked that he had to say something. To what? What had they been talking about? They had been talking, right? “W-What?” Oboro asked dumbly, still unable to take his eyes off his company.
Since Oboro didn’t move in or away, Mister leaned towards him. Gloved finger tilted Oboro's chin away from the building drop. "If you don't mind, that is?"
Mr. Compress was so close, and his finger felt hot even through the glove. “... What if I did?” He saved himself from coming off too stunted when finally, some words registered. Still, he made the mistake of glimpsing at Mister’s lips. So close. Oboro licked his lips nervously.
Mister rolled his eyes, the little smile not faltering at all. This was all a flattering compliment and a delight to boot - the surprise, loss of words, lack of defense, the admitting of inexperience. What could a performer and a thief want more to make things memorable?
At least the hero seemed not to hate what he saw right now, not at all. Mystery and partial unveiling could now be deemed a success.
"I'd say that's a shame. But to your misfortune, I am a thief, and I'd really like my gift."
Therefore he took it. Not entirely his style,
but the tension was hard to resist. With the smallest lunge, he pressed his mouth against the hero's.
Oboro's lips were cool from cold, but soft, and Mister still caught the wetness of his tongue from a moment prior. Sweet, perfect to mold and tease against for a moment too long.
The thief's mouth ran warm by comparison, heated by his breath behind the mask. Something of an artificial, sweet taste in his taste that spoke of just applied lip balm.
As Mister Compress leaned in, his cologne washed over him, heavy, sweet, and only very decently musky. There was something flowery to it, too. His eyes fluttered shut to take in all the different sensations.
Like the feel of someone else’s lips on his, soft and somewhat creamy, still firm as they applied gentle pressure that drew mimicking movements from his own. Tentative, stopping as soon as they withdrew. Oh, and that *taste*. Sweet, somewhat fruity.
"You can give me the hero talk on this next time," Mister said as he pulled away, hat and mask already in hands as he hopped off the cloud, rightfully not taking any chances and going straight for the staircase door.
Cherry? Chocolate and cherry, Oboro thought. It still lingered and blossomed even further even as Mister already put his mask back on and hopped off, leaving the kiss-robbed hero behind. His eyes opened too slowly, catching only the retreating figure.
"Thank you for the lift! Wasn't exactly keen on taking the train tonight."
Thievery indeed. Scandalous. Shocking.
…
Awesome.
He blinked a few times, trying to catch up on Mister’s words that only came to him belatedly, through the thundering heartbeat deafening him. His hand rose on its own, attempting to wave, but just crumbled away again.
“Bye…” Oboro mumbled.
Too late.
Wow. What on earth was *that*?