Don't
Guy sheathed his blade. He examined the hilt and scabbard in his hands, a frown on his lips and a growl in each breath.
"Are you sure you're getting the hang of this?" Matthew teased.
Guy clenched his teeth, and turned to walk away. He could hear Matthew's footsteps behind him; they were quick and with purpose. "Don't," he huffed.
He continued, but the sound of footsteps behind his own did not. He walked for several minutes. He could not be sure how long, but when he stopped he could no longer feel the sweat on his brow. The heat of training had passed, and the remaining dampness clinging to his tunic chilled him. With the Sword Demon in their midst, he and Matthew were training harder.
He withdrew his Killing Edge and examined it. There were nicks in the blade, and it would need to be tempered soon. There was also a sort of stain on it now that had not been there when Matthew had recruited him into the ragtag army. He had not thought of it while he had done it, but he had spilled a lot of blood since then. He lifted his blade to get a better look at it in the falling dusk. Thankfully, he noted, there was no blood on it now.
Guy returned his blade to its sheath, and sat with his knees drawn close. He had been sitting for only a moment when he could hear footsteps approaching. They were measured, careful and quiet. They were Matthew. Even knowing the thief was there, and nearly on top of him, Guy still yelped at the swift tug at his braid. He grabbed for it, his hands clutching the root of the braid, and glared up at Matthew.
Matthew's eyes narrowed to slits as his cheeks grinned down at the myrmidon.
Guy turned his gaze forward again and buried his face between his knees, his hands still guarding his hair. "How many favors is it now?" he muttered.
"Heh." Matthew invited himself to sit next to Guy, extending his legs and leaning the weight of his torso back on his arms. "You had plenty of room to strike, you know."
"I know," Guy parroted.
"You could have had me this time~" Matthew sang.
"I know," Guy insisted.
"If you're so sure of that, then why didn't you?"
The myrmidon's head ducked further between his knees. "I can't."
Matthew laughed. "What do you mean you can't?" he asked, "You're not half-bad in a real fight."
"That's different." Guy cocked his head to look at the thief, but only briefly let their eyes meet. "You're not my enemy," he mumbled. "You're my friend. I can't hurt you."
Author's Note
Written months ago, not posted then for its personal significance. I wrote it after a disagreement between me and my Matthew that happened when I realized that frustration with an ongoing Matthew x Guy joke I didn't find funny could escalate and later cause more serious damage to our friendship. Sometimes it's better to parry deliberately than to deliver an unintended critical blow.