a/n: Just want to quickly mention that because this is part of a series (set after Homeward and Shattered Chains), I recommend reading the previous two fics before this one, since this might not make sense without the context. ^^;

"If you keep looking at your watch, you'll miss this," said Slaine from beneath a thick, cream-colored scarf, which was wrapped so snugly over his face that it obscured at least half of it.

Inaho was about to ask what, exactly, in this perfectly ordinary backyard, on this torturously cold and sunless afternoon, was he going to miss, when suddenly a camera was pointed at him and the electronic imitation of a shutter sound drifted off on the snowy air. "I would rather miss that," he muttered in return, looking away. Did Yuki really have to buy Slaine a camera if all he was going to do was take pictures of him with it? He should be snapshotting this wretched snow that he wanted to see so badly, which not only was already very uncomfortable at his frigid toes, but had just begun falling again in a light flurry. But even with all his agitation, both from inherent risk of this little excursion, brief as it would be, and having allowed Slaine to extract an approval from him in the first place, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Slaine try to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Instead of landing in his open mouth, they were drifting into his eyes, and catching in his fluttering lashes. A particularly large, fluffy flake settled on the tip of his pinkening nose.

"I wasn't talking about the photo," Slaine clarified, once he'd successfully captured and tasted his bit of airborne ice, "I meant this." He gestured to their general surroundings.

It was quite pretty, but it was also cold and wet, and he couldn't put his hands in his pockets because they had to be able to easily move if Slaine started to fall. He never bothered with gloves anymore - they made it difficult to use touch screen electronics, even with those expensive capacitive kinds, and it was easier and more effective to put one's hands in one's pockets anyway - and so he only owned one pair, which he'd made Slaine put on before they ventured out. He rubbed his palms together and, receding as far as physically possible into the recesses of his hood and scarf, endeavored to ignore his watch for a few seconds and appreciate the fact that Slaine was really very happy.

Unfortunately, averting his attention from the very slowly passing time meant directing it towards everything else. If he had known it would begin snowing again today, he wouldn't have promised to take Slaine outside in the first place. Now there was nothing he could do about it, and regardless of the fact that he already knew better than to start a battle he didn't have the guts to win, he was finding that going back on his word, even on something as petty as this, seemed to have an unexpectedly strong effect on Slaine. Earning trust wasn't something he normally thought about, but suddenly it had taken a prominent place in his life, and he was realizing that maybe even the small things mattered, and added up. And anyway, difficult as it was for him to step back and allow poor choices to be made, he had to remind himself that even in matters of health and safety, Slaine should be allowed to make his own decisions.

Aside from the fear that even in the space of a single minute, Slaine would manage to overexert himself or otherwise attract some terrible accident, he didn't want to see this particular location again just yet. A cursory glance at Slaine's behest was plenty enough. And since Slaine had obviously not even thought of it, he did not bring it up. The anxiety he was sure must be noticeable would very easily disguise itself with his concern for Slaine's welfare, and general dislike of the cold. He watched tiny clouds of breath puff into the chill air before Slaine's slightly parted lips. Bright upturned eyes, reflecting the falling snow and the grey winter sky above, panned over the small landscape with wonder. He thought, for a moment, that Slaine looked rather fetching in the snow.

There was a soft sniff through the quiet air, and he gave a soundless sigh as he reached for the scarf that Slaine had pulled down under his chin, tugging it back up to cover his nose and mouth. "Ten seconds," he reminded.

Slaine pouted ever so slightly, but did not object. Instead, he caught Inaho's hands as they released his scarf, and each was firmly placed on a warm, pink cheek. "Thank you, Inaho," said Slaine, looking him straight in the eye from between his extended arms. Inaho tried to retract his hands, though the heat beneath them felt wonderful, but Slaine only squeezed them closer and smiled brightly. "Let's go inside now."

Slaine did not let go of his right hand as they shuffled back through the yard to the house, but rather stuffed it in his pocket with his own, with the casual explanation that if Inaho were to get frostbite, he would feel responsible. It was nowhere near the temperature required for that, but Inaho didn't feel like debating the matter. Slaine probably wouldn't pay attention anyway. When they entered through the backdoor, Yuki looked up from the couch, where she was buried in a very large blue blanket. Only her face and one hand poked out, presumably for the purposes of effectual breathing and remote usage. "Back so soon?" she leaned up slightly to see them better, "I would have run the bath before you went out if I'd known you'd be so fast."

Inaho had to wonder if she'd really intended to emerge from that cocoon at all that day. He would have liked to say that there was no need, they'd take their usual baths that evening… except a hot bath really did sound heavenly just then. "It's fine," he answered, extracting his captive hand and beginning the lengthy process of unraveling and unwrapping Slaine, "we need a few minutes to adjust to the indoor temperature first, anyway. I'll run it now."

Inaho hung up their coats and scarves - which were really his coats and scarves because they hadn't gotten around to buying Slaine any of his own yet - and, leaning down, scooped him up to head upstairs. Slaine had already strained his body enough for one day, and the stairs were an unnecessary stress that could be easily avoided. As he climbed them, he realized he probably should have asked before picking Slaine up, or given warning at least, but Slaine didn't say a word about it. He might have even looked a little relieved for not having needed to ask. It was all a bit confusing these days, having to remember Slaine's sensibilities, and attempting to read what he did and didn't want done for him without actually verbalizing it, but as much as Inaho tried, he still never could be sure he was doing the right thing. Next time, he decided he'd at least say something.

Ten minutes later, he was kneeling on the bathroom floor fighting a lengthy battle with Slaine's jacket, the second layer to his outdoor apparel. "How is it you can button a shirt with one hand, but you can't even undo a simple zipper," Inaho groused, leaning closer to inspect just how much shirt Slaine had managed to catch in the pull, and whether plain force would tear it or not. Eventually he threw in the towel, and hauled both shirt and jacket together up over Slaine's head. Slaine shivered slightly at the sudden exposure, even though the steam had made the bathroom quite warm compared to the rest of the house, and Inaho nearly went for his pants to speed up his journey to the hot bath, before remembering Slaine would likely rather do that part himself. Still, he hovered for quite some time as Slaine went about washing up, because as much as Slaine's frail appearance made him anxious, the possibility of his slipping or passing out again in his absence worried him even more. At last, Slaine was safely deposited in the water, and Inaho breathed a slight sigh of relief as he turned to leave the room.

"Aren't you getting in?" inquired Slaine from the tub, his open mouth dangerously near the surface.

Inaho resisted telling him to sit up and be careful. "Now?" he asked instead.

"Yes, now. You could use the heat."

Who's fault is that, I wonder, he bit back. "No, I'll take mine after. Let me know when you're done."

As his fingers hooked on the door handle, Slaine added, "you know, if you get sick, it'll be bad for me."

A valid rationale, but Slaine only pointed these things out when he had something to gain from it. It was both reassuring and disconcerting that his wiles had recently become so blatant - reassuring, in that at least he was open about it, and disconcerting, because even knowing full well what was happening, Inaho still couldn't manage to win. He was becoming something of a pushover, but perhaps the results weren't so bad. The door snapped shut as he released the knob, and he turned back towards the tub.

The water felt amazing. It rippled against his shoulders and relaxed his tensed muscles. The tub wasn't meant for two, but since neither of them were all that big, they managed to fit comfortably enough. For several minutes, neither said anything, and as his mind wandered, his gaze settled on Slaine. The soft definition of ribs just below his prominent collarbones, damp beneath the pendant that always hung there, gave him the uncertain feeling that he'd somehow messed up Slaine's diet. Getting him to retain weight felt like throwing mud against a wall and hoping some of it would stick, but he had to remind himself that not that much time had actually passed yet and recovery was a long road. At least the nutrients must be doing something. Slaine seemed more energetic, and that was an improvement.

"Inaho-" The sudden mention of his name pulled him from his reverie, and he looked up. Slaine was shifting and leaning forward, extending one hand to cup his left cheek. He sat perfectly still with a mixture of unease and curiosity as Slaine's fingers slid under the string at his temple and lifted the patch away. A thumb grazed gently, tentatively over where his left eye once existed, and thin fingers caressed the scarred, ugly edges of the hollowed space. By the time he could recoil from the touch, which no one but necessary medical staff had ever been allowed up till now, Slaine had already withdrawn his hand. He smiled, almost bittersweet, as he eased back into his spot at the opposite side of the tub. "Inaho," he repeatedly quietly, "these scars just mean we're survivors. That's all."

Inaho stared at him, wondering exactly how many reckless things Slaine planned to do in under 24 hours. He let out a shaky breath. It wasn't the scars that had been occupying his attention - though another time he might have fretted over those, too - yet the fact that Slaine was offering him such a bright outlook on some of the darkest moments of their pasts made him want to try harder to think positively, too. Slaine had certainly come a long way, and he would definitely be strong and healthy again. It probably wouldn't happen in six months, but he'd choose to believe that Slaine really would physically outmatch him one day.

"Hey-" Slaine suddenly exclaimed, looking oddly flushed, "are those… mine?!"

Inaho followed the line of the other's dripping finger to the bathroom stool, on which he'd neatly piled his clothes. Not understanding what exactly he was meant to be looking at, he turned back to Slaine. "Is what yours?"

"Those! The… the underwear!"

That was what he was turning so red about? Inaho shrugged. "I don't know. Does it really matter?"

Since Slaine was unable to do most household chores now, at least not regularly, they had fallen back on him, and sorting out their laundry, when they both wore practically the same things, was perhaps the least important task he could think of. Yuki had mentioned that maybe Slaine would like to pick out some of his own clothes for a change, and had even gone ahead and purchased a few shirts she claimed suited his colors and features more favorably, but Slaine himself had never indicated that he cared at all about fashion. He was happy about the shirts, of course, but Inaho had attributed that to gratefulness for Yuki's thoughtful gesture. In any case, underwear is about as basic as it gets, the only variation of note being in the size and style, and really there wasn't much difference between small and medium when one was the smaller of the two.

As he considered these things, Slaine was gaping at him incredulous eyes. "Yes! It matters! Do you steal my socks, too?!"

"Probably," he answered simply. The socks mattered even less. They were identical, all of them. How he could possibly be expected to stand there and separate them, when there was literally no way to tell them apart, seemed rather unreasonable to him. Besides, Slaine was always leaving them on his floor - if he cared so much, he should keep better track of them.

Slaine sank lower into the water. "I want my own color," he stated, crossing his arms over his chest. His sour expression could hardly be contested, and not wanting risk spending the remainder of their comfortable bath in an argument over something as trivial as the color of underclothing, Inaho simply nodded assent and let the matter go.

"Let's play something," Slaine suggested after they had dried off and dressed, and then hastily added, "not chess."

For once Inaho found himself in agreement there, and began thinking of what else they could play. There were still a few hours before he needed to start dinner preparations, and if he read he might just fall asleep. A game of some sort would be a good way to pass the time. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a single card game that Slaine wouldn't easily beat him at, and the rest required more than two players.

"How about a video game? You have a couple but you never play them."

Inaho glanced at his bookshelf. He hadn't bought the games - they sort of just ended up with him, from various sources over the past few years. One or two were Rayet's, which she'd gotten newer versions of, or decided she didn't like, or whatever other reason she had for foisting her unwanted possessions on him. There was one that was pretty good, though. It was a puzzle game that Yuki had bought him a few years back, and he'd gotten a little ways into it before other things came up and he never got around to finishing it. There was a two-player option, and it might be interesting trying it again with Slaine. He had to wonder if they had the cooperative stamina for it, but he suggested it anyway.

Slaine skimmed the back of the case. "Isn't this basically like chess, though?" he pointed out.

He hadn't really thought about it that way, but Slaine was sort of right. It was more puzzle than strategy, however, and they would be a team rather than opponents. But clearly mental challenges were not on the list of things Slaine wanted to do that day.

"Let's try it," Slaine continued before he could speak, "It looks fun."

Inaho paused slightly in surprise, and then nodded. "You can go ahead and put the disc in, I'll get us something to drink before we start."

When he arrived downstairs, Yuki was fast asleep, drooling a little onto the couch pillow. After extracting the remote from her clutching fingers and turning off the TV, he pulled the slipped blanket back up over her shoulders and brushed the hair from her face. She hummed softly in her sleep and scrunched down contentedly into the newfound warmth. It really was a nice afternoon for a nap, and the thought of a warm pillow and blanket waiting for him upstairs was extremely alluring, but he knew better than to let himself sleep during the day. Hopefully their game and the dose of sugar he was preparing would be enough to offset the drowsy comfort that came from sitting in bed with Slaine for any length of time. Over the past week or so, he'd fallen into the habit of dozing off in the middle of the day, and then he'd be unable to sleep well that night. Since he didn't have anywhere to be, it wasn't much of a problem, except Slaine had an uncanny sense for his wakefulness and inevitably woke up too, and then insisted on staying awake with him until he managed to fall asleep. It was nice to have someone there beside him again, awake or not, but it was all very intrusive on Slaine's own rest, and Slaine needed good sleep right now. Taking care of Slaine, if only in watching over him as he regained his strength and doing the simple things that were no longer easy tasks for him, like fetching snacks from the kitchen, was the least he could do in return. It also gave him something productive to do, which he desperately needed.

Slaine was already comfortably situated on his bed when he returned with two mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of leftover birthday cake. Almost immediately, Slaine noted the single slice.

"None for you?" he asked, brow furrowed.

Inaho generally wasn't much of a sweets person, though the occasional treat was nice, and really the only reason he had brought this for Slaine was because at the moment any and all calories, even empty ones, were worth putting into him. In an hour or so he'd make a proper afternoon snack, one of the six regularly scheduled meals Slaine ate daily.

"Inaho," said Slaine, and he turned to find a fork full of cake hovering in front of his face.

There was no time to question it, as the other looked determined to make him eat it whether he wanted it or not, and so he dutifully opened his mouth and allowed Slaine to stuff it with cake.

"We shouldn't share food," he muttered when he'd finished swallowing. As Slaine himself had said earlier, the possibility of illness was still a concern.

"If you get sick, I'm going to catch it either way," Slaine reasoned through a mouthful of cake, "You handle all my food, touch everything in the house, and breathe in my face all night."

Somehow that wasn't very reassuring, but Slaine had managed to justify the second bite of cake he was now offering. As it was placed in his mouth, he fully expected Yuki to walk in as she always did that these sorts of times, but then he recalled that she was soundly sleeping downstairs. Her cake was really good - she'd improved a lot over the years - and now that he'd had two bites, he sort of wanted more. Rather than succumb to the temptation to go to the kitchen and retrieve a slice of his own, he picked up a controller and began going through the game setup.

"Did you even add chocolate to this?" Slaine stared critically into his mug. "It just tastes like hot milk."

He was about to explain that the milk was to provide him with extra calcium and fat, and that due to the accompanying cake, he had added less chocolate to reduce Slaine's overall sugar and caffeine intake, when he glanced into his own mug and saw that Slaine was right. Did he add chocolate? Now that he really thought about it, he might have skipped that bit. What a time to space out. With a frustrated sigh, he reached for Slaine's mug.

"No, don't worry about it," Slaine shook his head, moving his hand away. "Hot milk is fine."

They locked eyes for a second, and he was almost surprised that Slaine did not seem amused by his absentminded blunder, but rather was looking at him with a hint of concern. The silent is everything okay? he'd seen countless times in Yuki's eyes over the years, was now becoming just as common in Slaine's. Really, such a simple thing as this was nothing to worry about. But then, he was hardly eligible to judge what was or wasn't worth fretting over, as he seemed to do most of the stressing in this house these days. He sipped his milk resignedly as he waited for Slaine to join the game.

"I'm ordering pizza," came Yuki's voice from the bedroom doorway, "what do you two want on it?"

Inaho opened his eye and blinked a few times as his pillow slowly came into focus in the dim lighting. Then he squinted at his phone for the time. Again?! It was well into the evening. So much for not napping. He must have fallen asleep when they paused for Slaine to use the restroom.

"Anything is fine," Slaine answered. Inaho followed the voice to see him sitting upright in bed beside him, reading with his back propped against a pillow.

Yuki glanced between them, "You sure?"

Slaine nodded, and when she had left, Inaho rolled onto his back, retracting his arm from around Slaine's waist, where it had somehow wandered in his sleep, and letting it drop back onto his pillow. "You could've woken me," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eye.

"Mm, you seemed really tired today, though."

It was true, but he had no idea why. He'd gotten good sleep the night before, even gone to bed early.

"You're relaxing more," Slaine added, "That's good."

Maybe Slaine was right. He had probably been chronically sleep deprived over the past few months, and just like the time he'd overslept at the prison, now his body was playing some kind of catch up the minute he managed to grab onto a bit of a respite. He sat up, hoping the awful grogginess of waking after dark would soon pass. He wanted to lay back down and revel in this pleasant state of existence, to dream of nothing as he sank deeper into the soft, warm blankets, with Slaine watching over him. Instead, he leaned to the side, letting his head rest on Slaine's shoulder, and closed his eye. If only he could freeze this exact minute, live each of these precious seconds as long as he wanted - but that was impossible. They were already slipping away.

If he wanted to keep these moments, he would have to begin marking them down in his memory as reminders, for the days when he would stumble into those murky depths of foreboding thoughts and desperate, miserable hours, where nothing really seemed worthwhile. This was worthwhile. Every minute he spent with Yuki and Slaine and Inko and Rayet and all of the people that truly cared about him was worthwhile. Time was more than a number on a wristwatch, more than a deadline, more than a measure of efficiency. Time was life, and life was sharing experiences, hearing someone call your name, tasting sweets lovingly prepared, feeling the warmth of another's touch. If he could remember, he could find his way here again. After all, Slaine was walking along beside him, just a heartbeat away. He relaxed against that reassuring shoulder - so fragile, yet stronger than it should have to be.

"Hey, don't fall back asleep." Slaine poked his cheek, and he felt a gentle press just above his forehead. "Let's go downstairs and watch a movie with Yuki."

Inaho lifted his head slightly, and gave a tired nod. "Mm... okay."

a/n: Well, this was meant to be a lot less angsty than it turned out to be, but uh... I hope it was still a fun read. ^^;