This story begins in the middle of a especially tough battle, although the band of the hawk were usually hired by some faction to fight their wars for them, this time it became a bit more personal, many Hawks met their end in the first charge, something quite unusual, for the band of mercenaries were usually the ones with the upper hand, even before Guts had join them. This, of course, caused the band of mercenaries to fight with a bit of a more emotional rage, rapidly gaining the momentum of the battle and significally lowering the enemy's morale, this included Guts, who had orders from Griffith to stand back and let the rest of the band take care of the fleeing foes, an order that Guts was gladly ignoring, leaving his leader and the principal members of the band behind to join the rest of the soldiers at their little slaughter fest.
It took almost two hours for the band of mercenaries to finish the enemy off completely, Griffith made no comment about that for he knew that the band had taken their time with the enemy, nor he completely minded, he too was affected for the high number of losses that fight had caused to his group. So as soon as the Hawks were all together again, they headed back to the city to claim their part.
The deal went smoothly, as usual, that probably had to do with the fact that Griffith did all the talking, never compromising more than necessary, never offending anyone if it didn't mean a higher reward, there was a reason the band was well known, aside from the obvious skill on the battlefield, they balanced it out perfectly with peaceful professionalism, at leas on Griffith's part, the only part that really mattered.
The band headed out of the city, some of the men were already starting a premature celebration on the ride home, some already singing, some already laughing and sharing their little stories of the battle they'd just fought, Judeau (and Pippin by extension) joined their comrades on whatever nonsense they were shouting to the air. It was a pretty pleasant mood, considering many comrades had still lost their lives that same afternoon, and it appeared Guts was a bit more affected by that than his comrades, for he stood silent, riding his horse next to Griffith, as usual, lost in thought.
Damn it. He thought. This shouldn't affect me like this, not long ago i slayed two Hawks and thought nothing of it! Why on earth should this affect me now!.
But in reality it didn't really matter the why, the only thing that mattered is that he knew that he was staring to care for the band, the fact that they had look past that he killed and crippled two of them was something to notice, well, most of them, he knew Corkus had been aiming arrows at him when on battle, and he sometimes felt some of the members looking at him, which was never a good signal, but even then, he knew the band had warmed up to him, and he had too for them, which in all honesty, was fairly new to him, to be on a group of people taking actual care of each other, no ill intention behind, no manipulation, he had to admit, it felt good, it made sleeping easier at night.
Then there was their leader.
The fucker wanted him, that much was clear, but it was only clear because he directly told him he wanted him, and in all honesty, the fact that it was so clear, just made everything that much more confusing, he wanted him as a soldier, no doubt there, but then again, what was with all the affection? Had he hired all his men like that? It wouldn't be that hard to believe, after all, the Hawk was something else, and his men seemed to adore him, but somehow he doubted it, he knew Griffith was no fool, and personally asking each one of his soldiers to join him in that manner was everything but practical. But then, why him exactly? Why was he getting promoted that easily?... why was Griffith always asking him to shower with him? Guts answered himself faster than he should have, and out loud.
-I killed Bazuso – fuck Guts cursed under his breath and prayed to whoever was hearing him that Griffith didn't hear.
-That you did, my friend – Griffith smiled and Guts just frowned the rest of the ride.
/
As predicted, the second they arrived at the little spot they decided to call home, everyone started getting busy, some men starting the fire, some preparing the tents, and some went hunting , all this were just preparations for the little feast they were going to have that night like they always had after a battle.
And finally, that night they had a celebration, the smell of beer and sweat was present in the air, Judeau was playing his Lute and Corkus was singing at the rhythm, or at least he was shouting at the air and clapping at what he thought was the rhythm, Casca was treating Rickert who had hurt himself while hunting with the men earlier that day, Griffith was actually eating with his men, laughing along with them and having a drinking competition with Pippin, who had been humiliating his comrades, by having the most resistance against alcohol in the whole camp, that is, until Griffith decided that he needed to defend his men.
Guts on the other hand, had retreated to a wide space, away from the music and the warmth, to swing his sword in silence and keep contemplating his new way of life.
It isn't bad at all, his new life beats the old one, there's no doubt about that.
Swing
Of course, rather than fighting for himself, he was now fighting for other people.
Swing
Or rather, he was now fighting for someone else, he mustn't forget, he's only here because he lost a hand to hand combat with the Hawk, nothing more, the only real thing tying him here was his honor.
Swing
Fighting for someone else's dream wasn't new to him, he was a mercenary after all, that's what he does, he makes someone else's dream come true for a bag of gold, but now he wasn't receiving a bag of gold, he was instead getting people, getting people to worry about, people that he now needs to protect.
Swing
People he wants to protect.
Swing
-Ah, yes, I do believe you scared that invisible monster away – A voice came behind him.
-Griffith? – Guts asked turning his head. He's drunk. He immediately noticed.
Griffith not only sounded drunk, but he looked drunk, there was absolutely no grace in the way he was standing, his eyes looked tired, like as if he was ready to collapse right then and there, whoever let him wander around in that state was, or just as drunk, or a fool.
-You're drunk – Guts repeated out loud.
Griffith took a minute to respond, but he did.
-Pippin was taking advantage of my men, someone had to beat him in his own game – Griffith explained, probably defending his acts.
Guts sighed.
-Why are you here? – Gust asked, actually trying not to sound rude.
This time, Griffith responded faster.
-I was actually a bit curious – he left it there.
-About what exactly? –
-About what you meant earlier, about you killing Bazuso, I must admit, I haven't been able to get it out of my head –
For god's sake. Guts had actually forgotten about that, and really didn't want to explain it.
Guts just turned around, starting to raise his sword again -Well, I did, didn't I? It was nothing – he said.
Griffith walked around him, facing him again, he looked no less drunk, and he nearly tripped over himself, but still managed to look determined.
-So were you just reminding me? – No, that actually sounded worse than what it really was.
-Not really, I was just wondering why you ever wanted me to join you in the first place -
Griffith's face shifted, now he was serious, eyes looked as sharp as ever and Guts could tell a hint of surprise, or anger inside them, Guts lowered his sword, just as Griffith seemed ready to speak.
-There's not a reason in particular, it's a combination of many reasons – Griffith explained, getting closer to Guts.
-You'll have to be more direct than that – Guts wanted to hear it all, he was stuck with this man, he at least wanted to understand the reason, he didn't got away when Griffith placed a hand on his', lowering his sword to the ground.
-Yes, I suppose I do – Griffith said, his face getting even closer to Guts' own, Guts could practically smell the beer that Griffith had drowned himself with, but that was not what Guts' mind was focusing on, his eyes were locked on the Hawk's lips, that were just a few inches away from his now, When the hell had he gotten that close?.
He didn't backed away, that's what scared him the most, he didn't feel the need to push the Hawk after the latter had first touched him… at least before he started throwing up all the alcohol he had drinked all over him.
-God dammit! – Guts pushed Griffith away from him and the Hawk continued expulsing everything from inside him, getting on his knees.
-At least tell me you won that drinking competition – Guts said, patting the Hawk leader on the back.
Griffith chuckled -You fool, of course I didn't – he said before finally passing out.
Guts actually found the sight quite amusing, until he realized that he's going to have to carry the Hawk back to the camp.
/
This ship is dead, isn't it?
I do get it, Griffith is an asshole and all, but I don't believe he always was, the fucker just got mad after that year of torture.
If you like this ship, and don't want it to die, write more Guts/Griffith this fandom for some reason lacks the Golden Age material that it deserves.
I'll write more Guts/Griffith, so if you somewhat enjoyed my writing, I got you somewhat covered.
BTW sorry if I messed up some of the grammar, English is a second language.
-EMVARE