Codependency
They have long ago established their roles in what happens on a night like this. Everything from the moment they gather in the basement to hear the game plan until the moment Yohji starts bitching about laundry duty is in a peculiarly set routine. Despite what changes the circumstances might require, given the target, some things never change.
So when there was a newcomer, things were difficult to deal with for a while, particularly for Omi. He was the leader of their team, and did not take well to people questioning his authority. Which was fine. Yohji was too laid back to give him a hard time, and Ken had never really taken that well to the whole assassin thing no matter how much he liked to say otherwise, so he needed a lot of direction.
Omi, for his part, had taken to it like a duck to water, but there was nothing he could do about the fact that he was fifteen years old and, depending on the light, looked like he was twelve. Ran’s arrival threw the entire team out of synch. He wasn’t loud or bossy, but he did have very specific ideas about the way things should go, and if Omi’s plan and his own didn’t mesh, he did his own thing without even bothering to run it by the team’s theoretical leader.
The first few months had been the rockiest. Eventually, Ran seemed to get it into his head that Omi was in charge, despite looking twelve, and he would pay for it in spades if he didn’t follow the plan. Because if nothing else, Omi could make him carry twenty pound bags of sod and soil at the shop all day the next day.
No one was really sure when they had gotten so used to Ran that the team couldn’t function without him, especially not Omi.
Despite his faults, he was always ready to charge in, and he never tried to dodge his share of the dirty work – even when it was laundry.
Omi stirred vaguely, aware only of the sound of a door shutting behind him and light suddenly stabbing at his closed eyes. What had he been thinking about? Something about the team. What time was it? Where they home? Why did his arm throb like that? Questions swirled around in his head.
“Think he’s going to be okay?” a hushed voice asked. Ken, of course it was Ken, it was always Ken who showed concern.
“He’s fine.” Ran’s voice was flat and unemotional. It thrummed against Omi’s back. Omi realized, rather belatedly, that he was being carried piggy-back style. It was like he was a child again, except he was fairly sure that no one in his childhood had had time for anything like that. “His eyes were focusing. It’s not a concussion.”
Oh, right, that crazy Schwarz bastard had thrown him into a wall. Again. Omi had to wonder why he was always the one getting thrown into walls.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Ken said.
Ran said nothing, which meant he was sure. Omi heard retreating footsteps. He thought about mentioning the fact that he was awake, but decided there was no point to it. He did wince a little, however, as Ran dropped him onto his mattress. If Ran noticed he was awake, though, he gave no sign of it. Omi didn’t disillusion him. He suspected that any conversation they had right now would turn into an argument, as so often happened between the two of them.
Ran pulled off his shoes and tossed a blanket over him. There was a pause, and then he huffed out a slight sigh. “Don’t do that again,” he said sharply, and left the room without another word.
Omi thought about saying something like ‘right, because I let the psycho throw me into the wall’, but decided against it, mostly because Ran was already gone. Plus it would make no difference. Ran was the way he was.
And the concern, such as it was, was appreciated.
It was nice to be needed.