Asami has lost it, and Takaba has proof.
"Excuse me, did you just say, 'adoption'?" he manages to squeak out.
Asami stubs out his postcoital cigarette before saying, "It's not an uncommon strategy. I adopt you, and set up a branch household. Very efficient."
"Only if you're insane," Takaba retorts. "What even makes you think I want to be your -- your -- what?"
"Don't you think I can provide for you, Akihito?" Asami asks, his voice deepening in a way that does not bode well.
That fact that they are both currently naked and in Asami's bed historically indicates that not only is Takaba about to lose this argument, Asami's going to prevent the argument from even happening, probably by --
"Oh," Takaba sighs. "No, wait, we just did it, Asami--"
He arrives at work to find a box of business cards lying on his desk. This is a bit puzzling, because he's pretty sure he has another two boxes left somewhere in the bottom of his desk, possibly buried underneath his emergency cache of film.
But his boss snags him before he gets a look at them, and it's very one muddy alleyway jaunt before he comes back to his desk.
Mochizuki looks up at him when he comes back, and she says, "Takaba-san, I think somebody made a mistake on your new business cards."
He looks down, and realizes that they are far more expensive than his usual. But the phone number and address and company name all look fine, except for...
"Goddammit," he hisses.
His name is listed on the cards as none other than Asami Akihito.
"Like hell," he mutters, and makes a special trip downstairs to tuck the box in with the rest of the burnable trash.
Takaba had been too busy filing Asami under "bastard" and "giant bastard" to really consider that Asami might have some really fucked up sense of honor. Said fucked up sense of honor seems to dictate that favored boytoys should be installed in nicely furnished condos, thus enabling Asami to know where said boytoy was, and probably also including video surveillance, wired for audio.
"No way," he says flatly, when Asami shows him pictures of the condo in question.
Asami frowns. "You don't like the neighborhood?"
Takaba frequently visualizes strangling Asami. This is also one of those times. "No, I--"
"It was a little far away for my taste," Asami concedes in a show of thoughtful agreement that would be normally unthinkable. "What do you think of this one?"
"I don't. Want. A condo," Takaba says with clenched teeth.
Infinitely worse than being an object of Asami's disdain is being an object of Asami's misguided attempts to please. Somehow, Asami has this way of looking at Takaba like Takaba already has a jeweled collar around his neck, which he most definitely does not.
"I'll make arrangements to acquire that one," Asami says, apparently having mistaken Takaba's unequivocal objection for meek agreement.
"You're not listening to me!" Takaba protests.
Asami's indulgent smile turns to something decidedly more carnal. "Are you accusing me of not seeing to your needs, Akihito?" He pulls Takaba into his lap, and smothers the rest of his objections in the most immediate (and terribly, distractingly pleasant) way possible.
Since Takaba has been doing his best to block all of this "adoption" nonsense out of his mind, it hasn't really occurred to him before that when Asami says "adopt" he really means "marry." Except that they are obviously two men, and Japan's legal code does not allow Asami to stuff Takaba in a wedding dress in any sort of official capacity, for which Takaba is deeply grateful.
Especially since Asami can come up with new and terrifying ways to make him want to go running for the hills.
"Of course, I won't insist that you quit your job," Asami says over breakfast.
Takaba stops mid-chew, and just stares at him.
"At least, not until we have children," Asami continues on blithely.
Takaba almost spits out his food, but manages to swallow at the last second. "Excuse me?" he says finally, hearing his voice edge into the realm of hysteria.
"I just want them to have a traditional home environment. Like I did," Asami says, looking contented with his vision of how he was going to ruin Takaba's life and drive him insane.
"Exactly how do 'traditional' and 'yakuza' go together?" Takaba asks.
"It's like normal, except with guns and tax fraud," Asami says, pouring himself and Takaba another cup of coffee.
Takaba's pretty sure he's being made fun of.
The "wedding" might have been delayed indefinitely, because Asami really can't, when all is said and done, force Takaba to sign the necessary paperwork without upsetting the delicate and precarious balance they have arrived at in their relationship. This is to say, if Asami ever hopes to fuck Takaba silly and sleep peacefully beside him afterward, without getting something sharp and pointy between the shoulderblades, he is going to have to be more persuasive.
Fortunately for Asami, Takaba is perfectly capable of making his own idiotic decisions, completely independent of any machinations on Asami's part.
Takaba wouldn't put it past Asami to arrange getting shot in some extremity to force Takaba's hand -- but the worried voice of Asami's bodyguard over the phone is enough to jolt Takaba into a spiraling panic, so much so that he calls for a taxi, his stomach knotting with vicious anxiety during the whole ride.
"Oh my god," Takaba says, running into the hospital with his cell phone still in hand.
When he asks which room Asami is in, the registrar asks him if he's a family member. Takaba clenches his fists, but then sees one of Asami's assistants sitting in the waiting area, with a very suspicious bundle of papers.
"What are you doing here? Where's Asami?" Takaba asks crossly.
"Asami-sama is in surgery right now," the assistant says. Takaba thinks his name is Saeki.
"Oh my god," Takaba says faintly, sitting down heavily next to Saeki. "What happened?"
"Business transaction," Saeki says tightly.
They sit tensely for a few minutes, before Takaba just can't take it anymore. "Give me the papers."
Saeki wordlessly hands them over. They've already been thoughtfully marked where he has to sign. Takaba begins to scribble his name, and then stops. "Wait," he says suspiciously. "Even if I sign these now, how are they going to get processed in time to let me in?"
Saeki holds up his cell phone. "Asami-sama is on good terms with the ward clerks."
"I just bet," Takaba mutters, and continues signing.
Even so, it's hours and hours before Takaba can see Asami. Asami is pale and unconscious, but he's damn lucky the surgeons got the bullet out relatively easily.
"And you yell at me for jumping off roofs. You idiot," Takaba says tenderly.
Takaba takes a seat next to the bed, and Asami sleeps on.
It figures, it just figures. It's like something out of Takaba's worst nightmares -- no, wait, it is Takaba's worst nightmare. Asami has turned into Bridezilla.
"It's just a party," Takaba says desperately.
"It's our party," Asami says, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. "It has to be perfect." Then he goes back to intimidating the caterer.
It's weeks of Asami asking Takaba's opinion on things that Takaba has very little opinion on anyway, and then Asami going ahead and doing what he wants in the first place. Except for the white wedding kimono and the overlaying brocade uchikake. Takaba put his foot down about that.
The big day finally arrives, and everybody who's anybody is there. Takaba spends the night before sleeping very little, at least until Asami wakes up and says in possibly the most patronizing tone ever, "Nerves, Akihito?" But then, in a moment of indulgence, Asami gives Takaba a spine-melting blowjob, and Takaba sleeps after that.
It's only when he's dressed in a dark formal kimono with Asami's family crest and waiting in the wings with Asami to be announced that Takaba remembers, with a flash of extreme panic, that Asami never told him exactly how he was going to introduce Takaba. His ward? His adopted relative? His boytoy?
"Asami," he says urgently, grabbing Asami's elbow.
Asami smiles, and looks like such a handsome and happy bastard, that Takaba forgets to breathe for a moment. "It's alright, Akihito," Asami says, and kisses him leisurely, with lots of tongue. Takaba has another moment of blind panic -- is Asami going to kiss him in front of everybody?
"Honored guests," the announcer intones, "I would like to present, Asami Ryuuichi and Akihito!"
Asami ushers him out, and Takaba thinks he's going to be ill. Seriously. And then Asami leans in, and whispers, "Don't worry, Akihito. If anybody says anything inopportune, I'll shoot them."
Takaba looks at Asami with wide eyes, because the thing is -- he's not sure if Asami is kidding.
Asami presses a glass of champagne to Takaba's hand, and takes one for himself. "Everyone, I'd like to thank you for coming today. This is Akihito, and I hope you will grant us your good wishes."
Takaba's jaw drops a little, because he expected something more possessive, something to make Takaba's status perfectly clear.
"Drink up," Asami says, holding his glass in front of Takaba's face. Takaba blinks in surprise, and a flustered moment later, offers his own to Asami, and drinks deep. There's applause and a few cheers, and for a moment, Takaba thinks he's as happy enough to excuse that look of rather smug pleasure on Asami's face.
There's some dancing, which Asami mercifully does not strongarm Takaba into doing -- which is probably due to Asami's survival instinct, and not some moment of newlywed generosity, considering that Takaba can't dance, period, let alone backwards.
Takaba gets a glimpse of the cake, which has two figures on top. One of them, he notes, is in a damn white wedding kimono. And it looks like him. And then he sighs and smiles wryly, because he does sort of love the stupid overpowering bastard anyway. He's wearing some terribly embarrassing and scratchy undergarments to prove it.
Asami wraps his arms around him from behind. "We're going to cut the cake, and then make a timely exit," he murmurs into Takaba's ear.
"Don't you think that's a bit...early?" Takaba asks, working on some vague notion of reception etiquette.
"Past due, I'd say. I've been waiting a long time," Asami says.
Takaba huffs and shakes his head, disengaging from Asami's embrace and moving forward to grab the cake knife. "Come on," he says, giving Asami a small, sincere smile. "Let's do it."
Because, really -- if you can't beat a crazy yakuza who has a thing for you, you may as well join him.