Impostor

Warnings- Short, Bizzare, Yaoi, Femto x Griffith x Gatts concoction, Spoilers for Femto and the reborn Griffith

Disclaimer- All characters are copyrighted to Kentarou Miura and maybe Dark Horse Comics.

They have this down to a science now. After eight hours, his eyes snap open. When Femto sleeps, Griffith wakes. When Griffith looks in the mirror, expecting to see his reborn body, all he sees is Femto.

Griffith sits up in the big Victorian bed salvaged just for him. He doesn't think anything of the silk sheets paid for with the blood of his men. His only thoughts revolve around the pile of old, yellow papers on a shabby desk. These are his only means of communicating with the Godhand floating around his consciousness, outside of the bizarre shared dreams. He needs to read these papers before anyone steps in and asks him about things he doesn't know about.

'May twenty-second', Femto wrote, spelling out the number. 'I got you a present. Check the bed.'

If life were simpler, Femto would represent bad and Griffith would be good. Femto may be evil now, but Griffith is far from good. Still, the demon's schemes can blow Griffith out of the water.

He tip-toes to the bed again, analyzing the malignant lump in the bed. He hadn't noticed it before, but it's big; too big for a woman. Griffith furrows his brows and licks his lips and pulls the covers off the lump slowly. He half expects a dead animal, but knows Femto wouldn't lower himself to sleep naked by a dead horse or dog.

The hair is black. The skin is tanned and bruised in many places. The exposed neck is marked with a brand, but it's scabbed over and not raw and bleeding with his presence. Griffith understands immediately.

Femto tried to give him Gatts.

Of course, the man in his bed is not Gatts. The lump is too small, too young, too stupid. Stupid enough to catch Femto's eye and then get on his bad side. Or maybe Femto's good side, considering the Godhand's thirst for blood. Thankfully, the lump's chest rises and falls as he sleeps.

Griffith has to wonder. He feels fine; perfect even. Gennon always made him hurt, feel useless, feel like nothing, as had the few other men Griffith had been with. It doesn't make sense to wake up in bed with a person, both naked, having not had sex.

He slides the blanket lower, passed the navel. Not enough scars, he noted dutifully. The covers reached scratched, swollen knees and Griffith feels sick. Blood seeps between the lump's legs. Griffith thinks briefly of Caska, then imagines redo-ing the event on Gatts' body. He finds himself pitiably aroused and dresses quickly before slamming the door on the lump. The impostor. The fiend. He doesn't worry about it being here when he returns.

Someone would tell the lump about his strange mood changes.

Author's Notes- So. Hopefully you got this a little bit, but I've been mulling over the idea of a sort of partnership of minds between Griffith and Femto as opposed to a merging. Of course, I don't see much of a sudden outburst of sex between Griffith and Gatts after the Godhand ceremony, but I certainly see it happening before and those feelings would definitely linger. Well, hopefully you get a third of what delusions I'm sharing.