[Murder Bath] The most romantic

[sasugajoker]

It was late in the evening, though not as late as he'd expected. Akira trudged along through the alley and jumped up to grab onto the fire escape as he often did, swinging himself upward and climbing the long way to the cracked window that was always open for him on nights like tonight. Nights he had to work late.

Sure, he could have used the front door, but people tended to ask questions when there was blood on your face. And hands. And jacket. Couldn't have that, now could he? He really wasn't in the mood for putting in any overtime.

Carefully, he slid in through the window, pulling his shoes off before touching down on the floor, nudging the window shut behind him with his elbow.

Would Goro be up at this hour? Sometimes he was. It smelled like there might have been some coffee on recently. Maybe he was working late, too.

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[sasugajoker]

Akira laughed softly and stood up, grabbing his jacket from the rug.

"Okay, okay. You know that tempts me to get the rug messy, right?" He walked off toward the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder as he spoke. The maid outfit was one of his favorites. Still, he should be thinking of cleaning himself up first before anything else.

Flicking the bathroom light on, he tossed his jacket to the floor.

[modestandloki]

Inside, he'd find an oasis. Different from the one at the bathhouse he used to frequent (dirty, Akechi had always thought), but with the same relaxing vibe.

The tub was full, and giving off pleasant heat: either Akechi had predicted when he'd be back, or else he'd continuously refilled it. All bets on the former-- Joker didn't phase him, and rarely surprised hi, even though he was glad every delicious time he managed to.

...Which, admittedly, was much more often than other people.

Sprinkled on top of the bath would be a scattering of blood-red rose petals, giving off a sweet, sticky scent. And on the rim of the tub? A rare luxury, almost heinous for someone Japanese: a sweating tall cup of iced coffee, brewed not so long ago.

Akira was always filthy these days. It was a bummer to sleep next to someone who smelled like metal and dirt.

This was much more fitting. After all... image was everything.

[sasugajoker]

For a moment, Akira could only stare at the picture before him. Grand gestures really were Akechi's strong point. He was touched.

Stepping fully into the bathroom, he shed the rest of his clothing and then slid into the bath water with a soft sigh that was full of relief. The way the blood began to slough off and give the water the barest of pink tinges made him smile. It went well with the rose petals.

"I don't deserve you." He said mostly to himself, lifting one of his hands, a rose petal in his palm. He dipped his head to smell it. It did a fair job of masking the metallic scent he felt covered in these days.