Title: The Games They Play
Fandom: 07-Ghost
Pairing(s): Ayanami and Hyuuga
Warnings: Mentions of the events in the manga and drama CD.
Synopsis: They play a game of pretend, but there is only so much he can pretend he doesn't want.
The first time he feels a weight on his shoulder he pretends he doesn't need it, back stiff and rigid as he shrugs it off. Pretends he doesn't feel tired when exhaustion is already creeping through his veins and eating at his concentration.
The second time that callused palm comes to rest against his shoulder, he pretends not to notice it, and the man standing behind him smiles.
* * *
The first time he collapses back against lean muscle and that wiry frame he tries to get up, but the wound inflicted by that damned Ghost had already sapped enough of his energy. He pretends he doesn't need the almost gentle arm which wraps around him and supports his dead weight, and he pretends that the open wound doesn't hurt when he tries to get up.
The second time he falls back against his subordinate's chest, he pretends that he doesn't feel faint and glares at him, but under the dark glasses and pale white veil, the man only smiles again.
* * *
The first time he stands alone in the chilly clearing with the wind howling around him, he pretends that he does not need company, pretends that he only wants to be left alone. Pretends that he can bear the weight on his shoulders alone, even though he knows that one day even he would break.
The second time there is someone with him, and for all the pretense and lies he tells to himself, he cannot pretend that he isn't thankful for the warm body standing beside him, and the man standing there beside him simply drapes an arm over his shoulder and smiles.
* * *
The first time their lips meet he pretends not to notice the addictive taste of caramel and chocolate apples, pretends to try and push him away when the only thing he wants is to keep him close. He pretends that he doesn't feel the comfort of that man's lean, muscular form pressed against his, and pretends he doesn't enjoy the faint scent of blood and sweets that emanates from him.
The second time their lips clash hungrily against one another's, he stops pretending that he doesn't want him, slender fingers curling in his shirt and pulling him closer, because he cannot lie to himself; he wants him by his side, even though he will never admit it.
It has always been a matter of his pride, and Hyuuga knows.
It has always been a matter of their pride, and they know it all too well. Neither would give up, or give in, for that matter, and no-one else notices the silent game they continue to play with each another.
No-one else catches the glances between them, red on violet, the knowing looks that pass between them; no-one suspects the tug-of-war between the two proud men.
Every day, every hour, they continue this pointless little charade only the two of them understand, even though Ayanami has stopped pretending a long time ago, even if it is only to the crimson-eyed swordsman who stands at his side.
END