A/N: Do not own.

Misaki didn't use to like wearing loose shirts. They often made him look smaller, and how he hated that. He'd always preferred to wear the ones that were just about his size. Ones like the dark green long sleeved shirt he had that sometimes rode up his sides, or the plain black sleeveless shirt he wore when it was too hot. They were more practical, and were the types of clothes he had.

Wearing loose shirts hadn't even gone by his mind all that much, nor were they important. Sure he had a few larger ones here and there, but shirts in general never really held any meaning to him. At least not until the incident and the events that followed.

Not until his best friend, the stupid monkey had gone and left them for the Blues. Not until the traitor had left without leaving anything behind. And where they once held no meaning, now they somehow did.

All the loose shirts he wore used to belong to Saruhiko afterall.

Loosely Based

Wearing Saruhiko's shirt had originally happened by accident that first time when Misaki woke up one morning and was just too sleepy to care. The fight he and some other members of Homra had the day before had left him completely exhausted. Mostly from trying to control his anger and resisting the urge to just roast his enemies charcoal black. Misaki never realized how much harder it was to keep his energy in compared to releasing it. And drained as he was, he didn't notice how the shirt he pulled from his pile of clothes didn't belong to him.

Sluggishly, he began to change and pull the shirt over his head. He stuck his arm out to one side were one sleeve was, and then followed with the other. He barely even registered the scent that fooded his nostrils and the should be apparent difference of putting on a shirt a few sizes too big before he yawned and made his way down to the bar.

By now most of the members of HOMRA were already up and about. Misaki was one of the later ones to wake up.

With another large yawn, Misaki slowly made his way to sit on the nearest stool for breakfast. He didn't notice any of the stares, or the whispers he received from his fellow clansmen while he was at it.

"Morning Yata-chan. How was your sleep?" Totsuka with his ever present smile, asked. Misaki greeted him back and cradled his face on one palm.

"Fine. Still a little tired though", Misaki admitted.

"Ah, but you guys did a great job yesterday so there's nothing much left to do today. Take your time and relax, ok? Don't push yourself to hard." Totsuka said.

Looking at his senior and nodding in agreement, Misaki only then realized how the older mans smile was a little more playful than usual.

Something was up, Misaki realized but didn't think too deeply on the matter. He idly started to rub at his still blurry eyes to distract himself. But while his face was usually met with the base of his palm, what glided through his skin was nothing like his palm at all.

"...the hell?" He murmured and stared at his hand where the sleeve covered up half of his fingers. He heard a few people snicker from behind him and didn't miss how Bandou even laughed. He jerked a handful of the shirt in front of him and gave the material a long stare.

"...Ah?", he suddenly realized.

He was wearing one of Saru's shirt.

As if on cue, Saruhiko descended the stairs, sleepy still, and grumbling all the way.

"That was mean Misaki. Coming down for breakfast and not waking me up..." Saruhiko trailed off but didn't continue and just stared. Misaki stared right back, but then remembered how he was still wearing the others shirt. He gave the younger boy a careless grin.

"Sorry Saru! I didn't notice it was your shirt untill I got down", Misaki explained. "I'll give it back to you after breakfast ok?" Saruhiko smiled and nodded.

"It's okay. I don't mind at all."

Nobody mentioned the shirt incident after it happened, though Misaki did notice the way Saru glanced his way and stared longer at him in the mornings.

It was always during the time he was putting on a new shirt.

Saruhiko always had a bored whenever he stared. Misaki knew the guy well enough to know he had something to say when he was like that. But the taller boy always looked away before Misaki ever had the chance to ask.

Then one day and completely out of the blue, Saruhiko tossed him one of his shirts.

Misaki didn't notice it at first and deftly put it on. And almost as soon as it was on him, he noticed how it was larger than anything he ever owned. It was easy to pinpoint it as one of the taller boys' shirt with a glance. Misaki turned and looked over at his roommate.

"Oi Saru, this one's yours", Misaki said. Saru too, who was in the process of putting on another one of his shirts paused and gave Misaki a blank look.

"It's ok right?" Saruhiko asked and continued to put on his shirt. He never broke eye contact while he was at it. Misaki only gave him a confused look.

"Haaa?" The shorter teen raised a brow.

"Misaki doesn't mind wearing my shirt right?" Saru said and turned completely to face him. Watching closely and patiently waiting for his reply.

Going over the other teens question, Misaki knew that there was nothing much to really think about. He didn't mind wearing anyone else's shirts and didn't care about other peoples' opinions. He did find the request rather strange though. But-

"Well I don't, if you put it that way-"

"Then its fine if Misaki goes out wearing it." Saruhiko cut him off.

"...Haa?! W-what the fuck kind of logic is that?!" Misaki complained and messed his hair to show his confusion. When Saruhiko didn't move or comment and just kept looking at him with his usual blank expression, Misaki caved.

"Tch. Fine! Whatever, you weirdo."

Misaki said and put on the shirt completely, though he still complained all the way. The smile Fushimi had for the rest of the day didn't go unnoticed, and the new cycle continued.

Wearing any of Saruhiko's shirts to Misaki, was like having the man constantly beside him no matter where he went.

Not like the guy wasn't already.

He could smell the others' scent every time he breathed, and Misaki had no complaints. Saruhiko had always smelled nice in his opinion. A bit like a faint trace of cologne, only more natural. It was one of the few differences he found to be strangely pleasant whenever he wore anything of the Monkeys. One of the things he liked most was how the shirt always flowed around him whenever he was speeding along the streets on his skateboard. There was always enough room for the wind to pass by. Through the collar of his shirt, caressing his shoulders, his arms, and tickling along his stomach and spine before coming right out. It made him feel more free, as if he were flying.

Misaki found himself slowly start to compare the differences whenever he was wearing his own shirts. They were always smaller, tighter, definitely more constricting. He steadily got used to wearing Saruhiko's shirts, until eventually he started asking for them himself.

Mikoto, Kusanagi, Totsuka, and Anna had seen the steady change and had followed it with unvoiced comments. The rest of HOMRA had dismissed the matter after their Vanguard had come down from the stairs dressed in Saruhiko's shirt for the third time in two weeks.

This time it had been a little over three weeks now since the fiery red had worn nothing but Saruhiko's shirts. When the fourth week came, it was Totsuka who broke the long avoidance of the topic and asked the question everyone had been secretly wanting to know.

Why was he wearing Saruhiko's shirt?

"Ah?" Misaki answered, and sunk down on the couch, not looking at anyone in particular. He was wearing one of the few shirts Saruhiko owned that he'd claimed for himself. The ones that weren't button-ups or had any collars. He absentmindedly started picking on one sleeve.

"No particular reason. They're more comfortable to wear." He admitted.

"Really? You can always buy your own you know."

"But Saru already has some. He doesn't mind even when I don't ask" Misaki defended.

Later that night, Misaki wondered if he'd said what he said because he'd been too lazy to buy his own , or if he just didn't want to spend anymore money when Saruhiko already had a lot.

He'd say that later if anyone else asked. No one needed to know he'd prefer Saru's shirt over any new shirt any day.

When the bastard Saruhiko had left after telling him he'd joined Scepter 4, the traitor had made sure to not leave anything behind.

Misaki remembered taking off his shirt, Saruhiko's shirt, and burning it until no ashes were left. He remembered falling back to the routine of wearing his own shirts. He'd always, always felt suffocated.

He remembered putting up with the feeling for weeks that passed by oh so slowly and lasted so much longer. It was the worst days of his life.

But when he passed by a clothing store one day and saw a familiar design with a different color, he found himself walking to the store and walking out wearing the shirt that was ones there. And when he rode his skateboard on the sidewalk, feeling the nostalgic wind pass by around him, he noted how it was missing the scent he'd always associated with the feelings of being free. But the shirt clung to him the same way the traitors shirts use to, and for that he was content.

It was definitely not the same. But it was pretty damn close enough.

End

A/N: I had to cut something because of chapter 10. I'm not sure if this came out too well.

PS: Anyone noticed the shirt Misaki wore in the flaskback was similar to the current one but in a different color? (Hint hint)