Ryusei’s foot caught on a loose paving stone, the kind you’d expect in a picturesque garden path, not a high-stakes (or at least, *their* version of high-stakes) operation. He pitched forward, a soft, startled sound leaving his lips before a hand, firm and warm, clamped around his bicep. Taro, always a step ahead, had moved without a word, his grip steadying Ryusei before he could faceplant into a patch of blooming petunias.
“Careful,” Taro murmured, his voice a low thrum that always seemed to cut through the ambient world for Ryusei. He didn’t release his grip immediately, instead letting his thumb brush idly over the soft fabric of Ryusei’s lightweight jacket, a completely unnecessary, yet entirely grounding, gesture. Ryusei felt the heat bloom on his cheeks, a familiar rush that had nothing to do with the unexpected spring warmth. He tried to play it off, forcing a laugh that came out a little too breathy.
“Right. Just… admiring the structural integrity of the landscaping. Very immersive, really,” Ryusei quipped, pulling his arm back gently. Taro’s eyes, the color of wet river stones, crinkled at the corners. He had a way of looking at Ryusei that felt like an x-ray, seeing every nervous flutter, every internal misstep. It was infuriating. And, Ryusei had to admit, a little thrilling.
They were supposedly looking for a data chip, disguised as a particularly gaudy, hand-painted ceramic bird, hidden somewhere within the 'Spring Fling' exhibit at the city’s historic botanical gardens. Their agency, the aptly named 'Gentle Interventions Bureau,' specialized in retrieving items of sentimental rather than strategic value, operating in a nebulous space between private detective and… well, benevolent, slightly eccentric spies. Today’s target: a treasured, albeit tacky, Christmas tree ornament belonging to a retired, notoriously superstitious financier. The man believed his luck would run out if his 'Lucky Robin' wasn’t returned by next December.
“You’d think for a mission this critical, they’d at least give us a thermal scanner, or maybe a tiny drone,” Ryusei grumbled, peering into a vibrant display of snapdragons. The flowers were absurdly cheerful, all gaping mouths and bright colors. Taro, meanwhile, scanned the crowd with an almost unnerving calm, his gaze sweeping over families pushing strollers and couples holding hands, never lingering too long on any one face.
“And ruin the whimsy, Ryusei? Never,” Taro replied, a hint of dry amusement in his tone. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, a perfectly ordinary accessory that, Ryusei knew, held enough non-lethal, high-tech gadgets to make Q from a certain spy franchise green with envy. Though Q would probably be horrified by the sheer lack of explosions. “Besides, we’re practicing our 'situational awareness' and 'blending in' skills.”
“My 'blending in' skill currently involves trying not to trip over my own feet, and my 'situational awareness' is mostly focused on which one of these floral arrangements is going to make me sneeze first,” Ryusei countered, rubbing his nose. The pollen count felt unusually high today. He watched Taro, whose profile was sharp and unreadable. He could be studying the intricate patterns of the trellis behind Ryusei, or mentally dismantling the entire security system of the garden. With Taro, it was always a toss-up.
A mother cooed past them, pushing a baby in a stroller. The scent of damp earth and honeysuckle hung thick in the air. Ryusei found himself inhaling it, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart. Taro’s proximity, even when he wasn’t touching him, was a constant, low-level hum. It was like a static charge, always present, always threatening to spark. He found himself hyper-aware of Taro’s broad shoulders, the way his dark hair brushed the collar of his simple, well-fitting polo shirt, the subtle flexing of his jaw as he scanned the area.
“Think our superstitious friend actually believes this bird brings him luck?” Ryusei asked, trying to steer his thoughts away from Taro’s… everything. He stepped closer to a massive azalea bush, its pink blooms almost obscuring the path.
“He believes it enough to pay us a significant sum for its safe return,” Taro said, stepping around the azalea, closer to Ryusei than strictly necessary. Ryusei felt a jolt, his arm brushing Taro’s. He imagined the electric current jumping between them, a ridiculous thought, but one that stuck. Taro didn’t flinch, didn't move away, just held the space.
“And you? You believe in luck?” Ryusei’s voice was softer now, barely a whisper over the gentle burble of a nearby fountain.
Taro turned his head, his gaze catching Ryusei’s, holding it. There was a depth there Ryusei had only seen in fleeting moments—a quiet intensity that made his breath catch. “I believe in making your own opportunities. And sometimes… in hoping for the best.” His eyes dropped, just for a second, to Ryusei’s lips, then back up. It felt like a physical touch, a silent conversation that bypassed words entirely. Ryusei’s cheeks were definitely flushed now, he could feel the heat radiating. He swallowed, the air suddenly thick.
“Right. Opportunities. Like… finding a ceramic robin,” Ryusei managed, forcing his focus back to the task. Taro gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile. It was a rare sight, a tiny crack in his usual composure, and Ryusei felt a ridiculous surge of warmth in his chest. That smile was just for him, he thought, a secret shared between the two of them.
Their first mission together had been less 'whimsical' and more 'wet and chaotic.' A misplaced, antique weather vane atop a seaside villa during a particularly fierce autumn storm. Taro, then his newly assigned senior agent, had been all sharp efficiency, barking orders into his comms. Ryusei, fresh out of the academy, had mostly just tried not to get blown off the roof. He’d seen Taro, soaked to the bone, a streak of mud across his cheek, still cool and collected as he secured the weather vane. And then, when it was all over, back at the safe house, Taro had wordlessly handed him a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Not coffee, not tea. Hot cocoa. That’s when Ryusei had known. Known that Taro wasn't just a partner; he was… something else. Something dangerous to his carefully constructed emotional walls. He remembered thinking, in a moment of storm-induced absurdity, that he wanted to spend Christmas with this man, making normal, mundane memories.
The idea of 'Christmas together' had since become their running gag, a code for the normalcy they craved, a whisper of a future far removed from their unusual line of work. Every mundane mission, every retrieved pet, every recovered heirloom, seemed to inch them closer to that elusive, perfectly ordinary holiday. Now, searching for a Christmas robin in a spring garden felt like a meta-commentary on their entire existence.
“Okay, the intel suggests it’s near something… structurally unsound, but visually appealing,” Ryusei recited, pulling a crumpled printout from his pocket. The paper had a tiny coffee stain on one corner. Taro glanced at it, then at the ornate, but visibly ancient, gazebo at the heart of the rose garden. Its paint was peeling in delicate flakes, but it was still stunning, draped with climbing roses that were just beginning to bud.
“Structurally unsound and visually appealing. Sounds like a description of my dating history,” Ryusei muttered, earning a soft huff of amusement from Taro. Ryusei loved making Taro laugh, even just a little. It was like coaxing warmth from stone. Taro, for his part, made a beeline for the gazebo, his movements fluid and purposeful.
As they approached, a figure emerged from behind the gazebo, nearly bumping into Taro. She was a woman in her late twenties, wearing a vibrant floral dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her eyes, wide and almost too innocent, immediately landed on Taro, then flitted to Ryusei. She carried a small, intricately carved birdhouse, which she clutched a little too tightly.
“Oh, excuse me! So sorry,” she chirped, her voice unexpectedly high-pitched. “I was just… admiring the craftsmanship.” She gestured vaguely at the gazebo. “Such intricate detailing.”
Ryusei’s agent senses, usually more attuned to caffeine levels than genuine threats, immediately prickled. The birdhouse. It was too pristine, too new for the overall aesthetic of the garden gift shop. And the way she clutched it… like she was protecting a secret. Taro, ever the grounded one, simply offered a polite, almost imperceptible nod.
“No harm done, ma’am,” Taro said, his voice smooth and neutral. He took a subtle step, placing himself slightly between Ryusei and the woman. Ryusei felt the reassuring press of Taro’s arm against his own. It was a familiar move, Taro’s default setting when he sensed even the slightest anomaly.
The woman lingered, her gaze moving between them. “Are you two… enjoying the exhibits?” she asked, a strange emphasis on 'enjoying.' Ryusei found himself wanting to check his pockets, just to make sure he hadn't accidentally picked up something that screamed 'covert operative.' Taro, meanwhile, was assessing her with a practiced ease, his eyes missing nothing, yet betraying no judgment.
“We are,” Ryusei answered, stepping slightly forward. “The snapdragons are particularly… verbose, wouldn’t you say?” He gestured wildly at the flowerbed he’d just passed. The woman blinked, her smile faltering for a microsecond. Ryusei knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but sometimes, a bit of unexpected absurdity was the best distraction.
“Oh. Yes. Very… florid,” she said, recovering quickly. She finally moved on, disappearing down a path lined with cherry blossoms. Ryusei watched her go, a frown creasing his brow. “Something’s off about her,” he said, turning to Taro.
Taro’s gaze was still fixed on the disappearing woman. “Agreed. The birdhouse felt too heavy. Not for a real bird, at least.” He then pivoted his attention back to the gazebo. “Our friend’s robin isn’t just ‘gaudy.’ It’s a specific kind of gaudy. Hand-painted ceramic. And the data chip… it’s a new prototype, extremely sensitive to vibration. Hiding it in something heavy and fragile, like a ceramic bird, and then putting it in a birdhouse… clever.”
“Wait, you mean *she* has it? The birdhouse?” Ryusei’s eyes widened. This was new. They’d been briefed on a hidden drop, not an active retrieval from an amateur. This was still ‘fluffy,’ but the stakes were definitely rising, even if only to 'mildly inconvenient.'
“Likely,” Taro confirmed, already moving. His pace quickened, turning the 'stroll through the gardens' into a brisk, purposeful walk. Ryusei practically had to jog to keep up. “She might be an operative from ‘The Thistle & Thyme Society’ – they’re known for their… whimsical methods. And their penchant for stealing things just because they’re pretty.”
“The Thistle and Thyme Society? You’re serious?” Ryusei almost tripped again, startled. “That’s… cartoonish.”
“They specialize in ‘aesthetic acquisitions.’ Mostly, they just annoy us,” Taro clarified, though a flicker of something almost like exasperation crossed his face. “Follow her. But keep your distance. We’ll observe.”
They followed the woman through a maze of blossoming fruit trees. The air grew heavier with the scent of apple and pear blossoms, a sweet, almost cloying perfume. Ryusei could hear the faint buzz of bees. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The spring day, which had started so pleasantly, now felt charged with a light, urgent energy.
The woman eventually settled on a secluded bench near a koi pond, pulling out a small, delicate hammer from her floral purse. Ryusei gasped, instinctively pulling Taro back behind a weeping willow. “Is she going to… smash it?”
Taro peered through the trailing branches, his expression unreadable. “If it’s a standard Thistle & Thyme retrieval, she’ll carefully dismantle it to get to the chip. They’re less about destruction, more about… selective acquisition.”
They watched as she began to tap gently at the underside of the birdhouse. A tiny, almost invisible seam began to appear. Ryusei felt a nervous tremor run through him. This was it. The moment of truth for the Lucky Robin and their esteemed financier’s Christmas luck.
“Alright,” Taro whispered, his breath warm against Ryusei’s ear. Ryusei shivered, a visceral reaction that had nothing to do with the temperature. “On my count. Three… two… one…”
Before Taro could finish, a large, fluffy golden retriever, seemingly unattached to an owner, bounded past the woman, snatching the birdhouse right out of her lap. The woman shrieked, a genuinely surprised sound, as the dog bounded off, birdhouse clamped firmly in its jaws. Ryusei stared, then burst out laughing, a high, surprised sound that probably ruined any chance of remaining covert.
Taro, for his part, pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare display of exasperation. “Of course. A rogue Golden Retriever. Classic Thistle & Thyme interference.”
“Wait, that was *their* dog?” Ryusei asked, still giggling. “That’s… genius. And ridiculous.” He wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. The whimsical tone had just ramped up significantly.
“Go,” Taro urged, giving Ryusei a gentle push. “Get the birdhouse. I’ll distract… the other operative.” He nodded towards the woman who was now frantically trying to call the dog back.
Ryusei, still chuckling, sprinted after the golden retriever. The dog was surprisingly fast, its tail wagging furiously as it disappeared around a corner. He could hear Taro’s calm, authoritative voice engaging the woman, probably convincing her that she’d just been the victim of a very well-trained service animal with a penchant for wooden crafts. Ryusei shook his head, a smile plastered on his face. This was their life. A ridiculous, charming, slightly dangerous, wonderful life.
He found the dog happily gnawing on the corner of the birdhouse under a blooming magnolia tree, its pink and white petals scattering around it like confetti. “Hey there, buddy,” Ryusei said, kneeling down carefully. The dog looked up, a piece of wood stuck to its nose. “Looking for something specific, are we?” He slowly extended his hand, letting the dog sniff it, then gently, carefully, extracted the birdhouse from its slobbery grip. Miraculously, the ceramic robin inside was intact. The dog, deciding Ryusei was a friend, promptly licked his entire face.
Ryusei laughed again, wiping dog slobber from his cheek. He stood up, the ceramic robin secured in his hand, and walked back towards the gazebo. Taro was waiting, the Thistle & Thyme operative having vanished. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just fended off a rival spy, probably with nothing more than polite conversation.
“Mission accomplished,” Ryusei announced, holding up the robin. “Though it involved significantly more canine interaction than I anticipated.” He then frowned. “You just let her go?”
“She was more surprised than anything. And the dog did most of the work,” Taro replied, his lips curving upward. He reached out, his fingers brushing Ryusei’s as he took the robin. Their skin met, and the familiar jolt, like static electricity, ran through Ryusei. He felt his breath catch again, his eyes locking with Taro’s. The air between them, thick with the scent of spring flowers, felt suddenly charged, heavy with unspoken things.
Taro’s thumb, still holding the robin, brushed over Ryusei’s knuckles. It was a fleeting, accidental touch, but it felt monumental. Ryusei’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. He watched Taro’s eyes, the way they softened just slightly, a tenderness Ryusei only ever saw directed at him. It was a silent conversation, a promise, a question. Ryusei felt his entire being lean into it, into Taro, into the possibility of whatever this was, whatever it was becoming.
“So,” Ryusei managed, his voice a little hoarse, “Christmas together? Still on the table, after all this… flower power?” He tried for lightness, but his gaze was earnest, searching Taro’s face.
Taro’s grip on the robin tightened slightly, his eyes still fixed on Ryusei’s. “Always. This was just… an early spring prelude.” He then pulled the ceramic bird slightly closer, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’ll need a tree that can hold this much… character.” He reached out, slowly, deliberately, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Ryusei’s ear. The touch was feather-light, but it sent shivers down Ryusei’s spine.
“We’ll find one,” Ryusei whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t pull away, leaning into the warmth of Taro’s touch, the quiet strength of his presence. The electric tension was almost unbearable, a sweet, agonizing ache in his chest. He felt like he was on the precipice of something vast and beautiful, something that was entirely, uniquely theirs. The world, for a moment, narrowed to just Taro’s gaze, his soft touch, the promise of a Christmas that was still months away, yet felt closer than ever before.