Dedicated to people who needed fluff. Except, there's angst in here because I cannot follow simple instructions.

Dishevelled

Raizel awoke.

Sleeping in such short periods was startling and new to him, and yet every time he closed his eyes there remained a daring jolt of danger that came with it. He was not afraid of eternal sleep. Eternal sleep was an inevitability that he accepted — on par with his expectations that the sun should rise and set everyday. And despite that, some part of him still couldn't help but think that his return was unnatural, that he had somehow cheated fate.

Still, the lingering fear of not being able to wake up, or of waking up and then finding the room around him had already crumbled and disintegrated to time, made him restless. He was fearful when he awoke to this new century, an eon from his time and a world he hardly knew outside from his window.

Raizel opened his eyes, unsure what to do under layers of cotton duvet and soft comforters. At first glance, the room he was in was exceptionally clean; prim and plain and spacious. On the bedside table there was a glass bulb wearing a sort of conical hat. There was a woollen rug that stretched the length of the room, a single colour to match Frankenstein's furniture.

On the dresser, there stood a vinyl record which played one song with the types of stringed instruments Frankenstein liked. On the drawers on the far side, Raizel recognised the same sort of plants Frankenstein liked to grow in the mansion: maiden's hair, potted violets, and a tall orchard in full bloom. Books were lined up neatly on a redwood shelf with numbered dividers, just like how Frankenstein used to order them.

Raizel snuggled under the duvet and breathed in deeply. The covers smelt voluminously of Frankenstein. His borrowed night clothes smelt of Frankenstein. Everything was as it was when he allowed himself fall to sleep the day before at his bonded's request. Not that this much rest could help his situation, but that was a conversation for another time. Raizel felt guilty that he didn't really feel guilty for lodging in Frankenstein's room — albeit at his slightly heated behest, saying something about this particular room being the 'master bedroom,' and that Raizel, being what Frankenstein called him, was of course to take it.

Then someone knocked on the door, prompting Raizel to push the covers down to at least show his face. When nothing else happened, he scrambled for the correct words to say before his mind failed him and he simply spoke in Lukedonian.

"Come in."

He smiled when he saw Frankenstein and Frankenstein smiled back, slightly red in the face. Frankenstein put down a makeshift tray onto the bedside table before going to bow his hand crossed over his heart.

"Master."

Frankenstein had been awfully strict with himself after his return. Raizel was unnerved by the sudden…distance between them, the way Frankenstein kept his eyes carefully lowered, how he rose when Raizel entered the room, how he did not dare sit in Raizel's presence, the way he seemed to stop himself from stepping too close. After a long moment Frankenstein was still paying respects and Raizel remembered he had to give him leave.

"Rise, Frankenstein," he said, sitting up in bed, "Please."

Frankenstein dipped his head quickly and rose. "Good morning, Master. Did you have a good rest?"

Raizel nodded, it was what Frankenstein needed to see.

"Are you in any pain at all?" Frankenstein asked in a meticulously level voice. Raizel again noticed that Frankenstein was averting his eyes. "Are there any feelings of dizziness? Of discomfort?"

Raizel reached out his hand but Frankenstein didn't see it. He clutched back at the covers. "No."

Something relaxed in his shoulders. "That's…good. I didn't mean to interrogate you, but I just…" Frankenstein broke off and cleared his throat. "Anyway, if anything changes, Master will tell me, won't you?"

Raizel nodded. "As you wish."

Frankenstein huffed at that and his lips quirked up into something of a smile. "May I help you get ready for the day?"

Raizel nodded and Frankenstein went to a knee to present the cloth and pail of water he'd bought in. Raizel hardly had a morning routine back in the old days — as a human, Frankenstein required sleep and woke up at the break of dawn, but Raizel often went months without touching his bed. When Frankenstein managed to convince him to do so, he was always there, up before him, a pail of water and facecloth ready for his use. As Raizel used the cloth, Frankenstein spoke.

"I hope Master won't be displeased. I know you told me you wanted to learn to live in this new world and adhere to its changes. This is considered…er," Frankenstein started, pail of water in his tray starting to ripple under him, "…old fashioned of me. This society has 'running water' that comes ready-to-use from a pipe system built under the house. It's connected to a wider network that brings water straight to 'taps' in the sinks and basins. You have one in your ensuite," Frankenstein explained, and Raizel's eyes lit up.

"But I wanted to do things the way you know it, just for now." Frankenstein put the pail aside when he was done, and remained on one knee. "…I want to do it for you. I want to do everything for you, today."

Raizel just sat in bed, unsure how to reply, so he didn't. How much had changed that Frankenstein had to go to these lengths just to say something like that? It sent a wave of melancholy through him — his bold, beautiful Frankenstein, just as unsure as he was. But Frankenstein was asking for permission and waiting for an answer. Raizel nodded his head strongly.

At that, Frankenstein smiled and left the room. He came back with something he was familiar with — the white Yeran High uniform and a pair of dress shoes.

"I made this suit jacket and trousers from your old measurements, but I apologise if it's no longer exact. I'll have to retake your measurements to be sure, but for another time." Raizel watched Frankenstein lay the outfit on a chair without creating a single wrinkle. "At least, you won't need to use your power to conjure it out."

Raizel swung his legs over the side of the bed when Frankenstein chose the moment to bow again, his hair falling over his face and veiling it.

"May I?" he asked, hoarse in a way Raizel hadn't heard in a long time.

Raizel felt Frankenstein's spirits drop in the moment he didn't answer. Then, Raizel lifted a hand, touching Frankenstein's hair. Frankenstein was visibly taken aback for a moment, but then kept still. His hair was longer than Raizel remembered, flowing down over his shoulders and curling in his fingers, but just as soft and fine and he wondered how long he could keep doing this without making Frankenstein feel weird. But Frankenstein did not feel weird, he leaned in. He shifted as if he wanted to brush his cheek upon Raizel's hand, but had refrained himself in midst of doing it. His lips quivered as he drew back and let Raizel do as he wanted.

Raizel combed his fingers through Frankenstein's hair and let it trail out of fingers. Finally, he moved his fringe to the side and tucked the longer part behind his ear.

"Frankenstein."

"Yes, Master," Frankenstein answered immediately, his voice strained just a bit.

"When you first arrived at the mansion with enemies at your heel, surrounded by strangers; when you saw how the Clan Leaders regarded me," he said softly, "you were never afraid of looking at me."

Frankenstein's frame stiffened.

"Please, look at me," Raizel said, and Frankenstein took it as an order as his head snapped up and his eyes went wide, glaringly wide. Frankenstein dropped his arms weakly to his side as he made himself look in Raizel's eyes.

After their meeting in the office, Frankenstein was eager to bend the knee, eager to show his allegiance, to prove his loyalty, as if there was ever anything for him to prove. Even if things had changed and he had lost that part of Frankenstein's trust, Raizel could never fault him. Frankenstein was never at fault. But no — Frankenstein so clearly wanted to give Raizel everything he'd given him before. Except his gaze.

There was an indescribable look on Frankenstein's face, deceptively youthful, but un-deceptively beautiful. There was worry and hurt and force in his look, and Raizel couldn't quite stomach the tinge of shame in his eyes. There was so much yearning. Raizel wanted — he needed to give him what he wanted, but he didn't know what it was. Right now, it was too hard to ask. Frankenstein would not tell him — he would disregard it and push it down and deny himself for the singular reason of not inconveniencing Raizel, as if anything of Frankenstein's could ever inconvenience him.

So Raizel said, "Frankenstein. Help me get dressed."

And Frankenstein nodded. "Yes, Master."

Raizel took Frankenstein's hands, taking him by surprise again, and guided them to his body. There, Frankenstein smiled and began undoing the buttons one by one.

The reason why he'd starting doing this — dressing him — was rather morbid. It was just after a particularly draining battle with a coup d'état against the Lord. A small branch of Central Order Knights who went often into the human world returned with ideas of expansionism and exception, and saw themselves as under the rule of a weak Lord. The Clan Leaders were present, but none dared step into the business of the Noblesse. Even the Lord stepped back when Raizel had made up his mind that it was his duty. For it was, and it was his responsibility to act.

And then Frankenstein, worried, terrified Frankenstein, burst out of the crowd and volunteered to do the deed for him. His charred soul was not made for killing like Raizel's was, and it was Raizel's shortcomings that had made someone like Frankenstein have to learn to kill so expertly, until it was like second nature, like breath. It was him that did not do enough to stop corrupted nobles from hurting the humans Frankenstein loved so much.

Frankenstein did not see it that way. Frankenstein was scared of very little — but that day he was terrified for Raizel. It was terrible irony. It was then that Raizel realised how much Frankenstein was willing to give, as he knelt in the dirt and called him what Raizel needed to be for him from then on. It was too much. Frankenstein, Raizel sighed as he thought against the closed curtains of his window, Frankenstein gave too much.

So Frankenstein had escorted Raizel back to the mansion and convinced Raizel to rest. When Raizel had woken up, Frankenstein had provided a facecloth and pail of water, as well as a new set of clothes to stop him from using aura.

When he took a mighty long time trying to undress himself, Frankenstein flung his hands over Raizel's and clutched them so tight it hurt. Just a bit.

"Please," he'd said, Raizel's trembling hands making his own hands tremble too, "let me do it."

Raizel couldn't stop his fingers from trembling for the longest time.

"Please allow me to do it," Frankenstein said.

Frankenstein parted Raizel's night clothes and carefully peeled it from his body. This time, Frankenstein took care to watch his face and not his bare chest as he clothed him with the new shirt. His movements were painfully slow, but Raizel found himself not wanting it end, for some reason. After being kept at such a distance since their meeting, being close to Frankenstein made him happy. These hands, the very same that evaded Clan Leaders and had slain monsters, that had cured and killed and worked — they were a nimble artisan's hands, a sure doctor's hands, a harsh hammer of hands — they moved gently on him with an air of familiarity.

Raizel stood as he let Frankenstein disrobe his pants, held his shoulder as Frankenstein held up the uniform for him to step into. Frankenstein did up the zipper and reached for the next article.

"Please stand still as I do up the belt, Master," Frankenstein said.

Nothing much had changed in this routine, and it was calming. Frankenstein was just as professional as always.

There was a time where he was not so professional.

Raizel's duties had called him to the outer skirts of Lukedonia to subdue a known traitor. It was an ambush. Raizel had walked into quite an elaborate trap. It would have been no matter. After the fight had finished and the enemies were sentenced, Frankenstein ran to where Raizel was, blood on his hands after he'd cleaned up on his end.

Raizel was tired and caught off guard — and it was so stupid of him to have been caught off guard, as if he had the luxury to expect the end of an unpredictable fight. Frankenstein had stopped in his step, his face going inexplicably red as he suddenly turned in the opposite direction.

"Master!" he said, jittery, "You….you're disrobed."

And then he slapped his hand over his mouth as if he'd said a curse word instead of stating the obvious, which was not in fact obvious for Raizel who had gone against Frankenstein's wishes and 'conjured' out his official Lukedonian wear to do the job before it had been ripped apart. Raizel looked down and frowned deeply. Was he getting so sloppy that being caught off guard on the off time saw him mussed and top-nude? It was unforgivable — and now he had soiled himself to the point of embarrassing Frankenstein.

But it was not that — Frankenstein saw it as himself embarrassing Raizel, for some reason Raizel could not yet grasp.

Raizel lifted a hand to make himself clothed. Before he could, Frankenstein had garnered his strength to turn around and whipped what was left of his blouse off of his bare back. He quickly draped it over Raizel and did the buttons up at lightning speed.

"Forgive me," he muttered, red-faced, as if there was anything to forgive, "it's dirty, but it'll have to do, forgive me."

But Raizel could only remember that the clothes smelt of Frankenstein — that indescribable and familiar and comforting smell of the one curled around his soul, protecting it, mingled with it. He had just understood that humans had a particular smell to them, since nobles had none. It got to the point where he had to pretend not to be too disappointed to return it as Frankenstein peeled it off him, and burnt it with his purple flames right before his eyes.

And then it had become a silent race between them to see who could find and finish an enemy before the other so that they other of them would not have to dirty their hand.

In another event, Frankenstein had gone to hunt down a noble criminal and had not come back for weeks. Raizel was worried as he had been trying hard to hide a set of injuries he'd undoubtedly acquired from his regular training brawls with Ragar, and then a final one with Gejutel who'd summoned his soul weapon.

Uproar started in Lukedonia as Raizel unceremoniously left the mansion grounds and walked everywhere he'd never been before, getting lost on his own people's land. Worry soon melted into a deep, heart-pounding fear, going up his spine and setting fire in his guts as Frankenstein closed the bond to him. If he was unconscious (or deceased — no, no,) he wouldn't be able to open the bond to him. So Raizel made the objective decision to force the bond open and—

Frankenstein gasped, spasming at Raizel's sudden arrival and totally unable to cover himself as Raizel's eyes widened as they skimmed across his bleeding, gaping wounds.

"Master…" he said, eyes strained, ashamed. "Master I'm going to, that is, I'll be fine." Frankenstein winced as he poked himself trying to hide the emergency sewing needle on him that he was currently using to pull one part of his left breast back to the other.

"Please," he said, long legs splayed out before him, the rest of him stiff and guarded as he tried so hard to bow to Raizel without the use of his lower half. Then, and Raizel's heart wanted to tear itself out of his ribcage — and he would have done it if it could do any good for Frankenstein — Frankenstein's voice broke as he looked away. He wasn't even trying to cover himself anymore, not trying to close his legs.

"—Don't look at me," he said suddenly, "Master, please don't look at me. Don't look. I beg of you, please don't look at me—"

So Raizel shut his eyes, shut them tight and it was better that way — that way he couldn't hurt what he thought was Frankenstein's pride, and it would stop his tears from running in one fell swoop. Raizel used the connection to come close and Frankenstein didn't — or maybe couldn't — protest as he touched his heart and did what Frankenstein would beg him never to do again. Raizel used a sliver of life-force to heal his wounds.

Frankenstein was silent as Raizel used his aura to make clothes appear out of thin air. Frankenstein was silent as Raizel turned around and pulled an exhausted Frankenstein's weight over his back and carried him the long way round back to the mansion, so no one would see them.

"I'm sorry you had to see me in that state," Frankenstein said later, "it was…unprofessional of me," he said, as if being professional was what mattered most to him, as if Raizel had ever thought differently about Frankenstein based on how he looked.

Now Frankenstein placed two leather shoes before him. "These are my shoes, there was no possibility for me to create a new pair of shoes in one night, so I found the ones most suitable for a temporary arrangement." Frankenstein sighed, clicking his tongue. "They'll probably be a bit too long…"

"That's alright," Raizel said.

Frankenstein huffed mirthfully. "Please take a seat again, Master."

Raizel sat back on the bed. Frankenstein knelt on both knees, rolling socks onto Raizel's right foot with gloved hands. There was a soft look on his face when he slipped his foot into the shoe and put it up on his knee to tie the laces.

"I apologise," he said suddenly. Raizel looked from the shoe to Frankenstein, from Frankenstein to the shoe, utterly confused.

Frankenstein laughed croakily and tied the shoe just a bit too tight. "I mean, I apologise for before. For — all that time. This past day I refused to — I was too cowardly to look at you. I feared that you could disappear right before my eyes. Or maybe I've finally gone mad wanting to see you again, that I might think this tugging in the bond we share is false, as if something like this can be imagined."

Raizel blinked. He nodded slowly, taking every word and every possible meaning they could convey, trying to understand.

Now Frankenstein lifted his head high, holding Raizel's stare with an earnest look. "It's been so long, Master. It's been too long. I searched for you so long that I stopped. And now you're here."

A wave of heat flooded Raizel from his chest to his stomach, making him terribly weak. Frankenstein sighed quietly and, without breaking his sight, bent to kiss the toe of Raizel's shoe. A soft and gentle reminder of just how much Raizel was to Frankenstein, for him to do this, and it ached. Raizel gasped and his brows furrowed.

"You're here," Frankenstein continued, making it look like pulling a sock over a foot like it was the most elegant job in the world. "You're back," he echoed, quieter, and then, not daring to look away a moment more—

"Master. I missed you so much."

Frankenstein bent to kiss his left foot. Then he fitted it into the shoe and neatly did up the laces.

Once he was done, they were both breathing heavier.

Raizel rose quickly from the bed and bent to help Frankenstein up. Then he just looked into Frankenstein's eyes, just as afraid as him to let go, for the moment.

"My…" Raizel paused. "My cravat, Frankenstein."

Frankenstein's smile widened. "Of course."

Frankenstein removed his gloves to pull the standard cravat over Raizel's shoulders and then tightened it to his collar. With expert movements, he began tying a complicated knot. Raizel talked as he did it.

"….No more apologies. I do not want to hear any more apologies."

"Forgiv—" Frankenstein reacted, "Er…yes. As you wish."

"But I am sorry for taking so long. Frankenstein, you don't need to fear. I don't want you to be reserved or hold me at arm's length. I will not leave you again. I will never leave you so long as I live," Raizel said, in the small space between them as Frankenstein leaned in, leaning his head on Raizel's shoulder.

Frankenstein swallowed. "Back then, when I was out of commission and unable to move. I…didn't think you would come to find me. I almost wished you didn't. But when you disappeared and I stopped looking for you," Frankenstein lifted himself off of his shoulder. "I knew you would come to find me."

Raizel lifted his hands, clasping Frankenstein's face tightly. "Thank you for being here for me to find."

He pressed a kiss to his lip. A short, sweet peck. He looked back, seeing Frankenstein's astonished face and his hair ruffled by Raizel's fingers. Frankenstein smiled, his smile turning into a beam, into a toothy grin, into an overjoyed laughter.

Without warning, Raizel turned them around and gently lowered Frankenstein onto the bed.

"Master…" Frankenstein echoed, besotted, "What should I do?"

Raizel smiled. "I need you to undress me, Frankenstein."

Frankenstein swallowed. "Please think of my labour, Master. Why don't you undress me first?" Frankenstein bared his neck, huffing hard — as if dressing Raizel had been the most laborious work in his long life.

Raizel paused, giving a serious look, and then nodded severely as he put his hand on Frankenstein's chest, swiping backwards and stripping his clothes away in a single move. And this time he didn't shy away, didn't try to hide himself in the slightest. Raizel pushed himself back onto the bed, trailing his nose up Frankenstein's bare chest and wetting it with his breath. He breathed in deeply, savouring his scent. It was Frankenstein that opened their bond and all coherent thoughts fled their minds at the exact same second. He cried out, and Raizel burrowed into Frankenstein's neck as Frankenstein whimpered without shame, digging one hand into the back of Raizel's brand new clothes and mussing them without regret.

For what was this much when their souls were touching everywhere, singing, moving, loving.

"Frankenstein," Raizel said, nuzzling his ear, "Frankenstein, Frankenstein, Frankenstein…"

"Master!"

And Raizel sighed, startled and intoxicated by Frankenstein; and Frankenstein writhed under Raizel's hold, crying out, wanting to answer Raizel's every call.

"Master! Yes, Master, Master, my Master—"

Raizel pressed his lips once more to Frankenstein's, putting the room back into silence. And then, looking up, Raizel's lip quirked up.

"Master?" Frankenstein asked weakly.

"I will make it up to you," Raizel said, "for ruining your hard work. I promise I will make it up to you."

With a tip of his head and a small bout of aura, Raizel's clothes disappeared off of him as well.

Frankenstein nodded agreeably. "I have never doubted you, My Lord."

End.

Thanks for reading I wrote this in response to everybody's need for fic so it was done in one go and probably not in best condition...