A/N: Desert AU, but not related in any way to my other fic Sight. So if any readers of Sight are here, heads-up that this is not set in that universe. This is probably more faithful to the desert universe depicted in the ending, although I did take some liberties with Haru and Makoto's backgrounds.

The moonlight is a cool warmth—a soft, feathery kiss against his skin.

He dreams the dream that always comes to him on the nights when the moon shines especially bright in the night sky.

He dreams of the deep blue water of an oasis, of a boy floating serenely in the water, a little secret smile playing upon lips washed in moonlight. Makoto knows this to be a dream, so he doesn't hesitate to shed his clothing and dive after Haru.

With a rare, playful twinkle in his eyes, Haru darts away from him, swimming farther into the centre of the pool of water.

Underneath the surface of the water, Haru's intentions are startlingly clear.

Come catch me.

It comes like a thief in the night to steal the very breath from his parched lips.

He awakens to the tinkling sound of a hail of pebbles on the glass pane of his window.

"Makoto, are you awake?"

Makoto stifles a chuckle at Haru's impatient tone; it had been almost a week since their last midnight journey to the oasis just outside of town and Haru must be itching to get into the water.

"I am now," he whispers back.

"Hurry up," the reply floats into the room.

The beaded curtains part, and then Haru is crouching on his windowsill, an arm braced against the frame. The moon behind him outlines his silhouette, its light catching the edge of the scimitar hanging from his waist. His blue eyes appear dark at first, but when Makoto smiles at him the way he knows Haru likes—not that he'd ever admit it, of course—they brighten, illuminated by a pale fire that burns inexplicably hot, consuming his thoughts, leaving only room for Haru. Only Haru and his piercing blue eyes.

"Are you ready?"

It is a question that Haru always asks, and the reply is ever-constant, unchanging even in the wake of the passing years that they had known each other.

"Of course, Haru."

And he would let it, because he thirsts for it too.

Their first meeting had been an accident.

At the crack of dawn of a day in the middle of the hot season, his father takes him to the lesser-known of the two wells in town that haven't run dry. It's early enough that people are only just waking only up, so they have the well to themselves.

He begs and pleads to be allowed to work the pulley to bring the bucket up from the bottom of the well, and somehow he manages to convince his careful father that he is strong enough to do it.

He peers into the dark depths of the crudely-designed well, suddenly fearful of the unknown lurking within. But he wants to prove that he is no longer a child; of course, he has barely even reached half his father's height, but something as mundane as that has never stopped a child from claiming adulthood, and Makoto is convinced that the fact that he no longer needs help with tying the sash around his torso is a sign that he has joined the ranks of the older boys who are trusted with duties like fetching water and tending to the camels.

So despite the almost crippling fear, he grips the worn rope, but before he can pull the rusted metal bucket up, he sees something that makes his heart beat faster for a completely different reason.

In the inky darkness at the bottom of the well shines a color so blue that Makoto could not possibly have described had he been asked to. Memories of stories told of mysterious beings in the water—stories of Marid—wrap their strands around his mind, because surely only a Marid can have such captivating azure eyes.

Like the sky, it glimmers with a secret promise. Like water, it reflects his own wide-eyed surprise, only infinitely more breathtaking and beautiful. He yearns for it the way the earth yearns to touch the sky, and it seems just as unattainable as the far-off horizon, but that doesn't mean he won't try to reach for it.

Without meaning to, he lets go of the rope in favor of stretching his short, stubby fingers down towards the blue. To his surprise, pale fingers part the darkness, reaching up. Makoto leans farther, the whole front of his body pressed uncomfortably against the rough stone of the well.

"I can't reach!" Makoto cries. The distance between their fingertips is only a few hand-spans, but to him, it may as well be fathoms. With tears that he can't explain even to himself, he launches himself forward in a last-ditch attempt to touch the Marid in the well.

"Makoto, that's dangerous!"

His alarmed father grabs the back of his thode in time to stop Makoto from tumbling headfirst into the well.

"But Papa!" Makoto struggles against the cage of his father's arms. "I want to touch the Marid!"

After minutes of bawling that Makoto would later look back on with more than a little embarrassment, his father calms him down and takes a look into the well himself.

He gasps, reaches down with his long arms, and pulls out a waterlogged boy that appears to be around Makoto's age. He wears the blue of the nomad clan that passes through their village every so often, but then Makoto supposes it isn't all that ridiculous to think that Marid can take on any human form they wish.

Skin paler than Makoto's but still bearing the mark of their constant desert sun, black hair that offers hints of a deep dark blue when it catches the light just so. Every little detail carries the scent of graceful stillness, and it's so very befitting that the djinn of the water would choose a form so like the placid surface of a hidden oasis.

Makoto dashes forward and takes the boy's cold hands into his own warm ones. Water drips from his clothes, staining the golden sand into a dark, murky brown.

"Are you a Marid?" he whispers reverently. He stares up into that blue that had entranced him so.

"No," the boy replies. He shakes the water out of his hair, and Makoto marvels at how elegant he makes such a simple gesture appear.

"I'm Haru."

"Hey, Haru?"

"Hmm?"

Haru's camel easily bears their combined weight, but the pace of its trots is noticeably slower. Makoto doesn't mind, because between the serenity of the moonlit desert dunes and the warmth of Haru's back against his chest, he thinks that if time stopped right here, at this moment, that would be just fine.

"Do you remember that time when me and Dad found you in the well?"

Makoto rests his chin on top of Haru's bare head. He had forgone the turban—they both had—so Haru's dark raven locks are free to flutter in the wind. They tickle his nose every so often, but Makoto doesn't mind at all.

"What about it?" Haru asks. He clicks his tongue at the camel, and they speed up a bit.

"Nothing," Makoto chuckles. "It's just that I remember thinking you were a Marid back then."

"Then you followed me for days because you wouldn't believe me when I said I wasn't," Haru adds with just a taste of mischief in his tone.

Haru tilts his head back, a teasing smirk on his face. He takes one hand off the reins—Makoto automatically reaches for it before they lose control of their camel—and reaches up, tugging lightly at Makoto's hair to bring him closer. Haru's breath is cool against his flushed skin.

"Do you still think I'm a Marid?"

"No," Makoto replies. "Haru is Haru, right?" he finishes with a cheeky smile.

Haru flicks his finger at Makoto's forehead—a half-hearted scolding that they both know he doesn't mean.

Makoto tightens his arms around Haru—a silent apology that isn't really needed but is appreciated nonetheless.

"If I was a Marid," Haru breaks the comfortable silence. "What wish would you ask of me?"

For once, Makoto doesn't have the answer. Or rather, he does, but the answer is not something he can easily say to Haru.

I would wish to be with you.

Makoto tenses up. Haru can be skittish when it comes to matters of being free to be himself—surely this must be a by-product of being raised in a clan of nomads who pride themselves on their independence, and so is not something to be taken lightly. Therefore, such a selfish wish—to ask Haru to bind himself to Makoto—is something he could never ask of Haru.

But he wants to. More than anything, he wants to give voice to his innermost desire, to ask Haru to stay behind when his clan leaves the North for the warmer South at the start of the cold season.

His fist curls into the reins, the rough rope digging into his palm. If he asks, would Haru choose to leave his clan just to stay with him? Would he want Haru to give up all that just for his own selfish reasons? Seeing him at least for a few months every year should be enough, shouldn't it?

Just when did I become this greedy?

Haru must have sensed his discomfort for he takes the reins from Makoto's hand.

"Never mind. It was a stupid question."

He digs his heels into the camel's sides, and they go flying off into the night. For the rest of their journey, Makoto sits in silent contemplation.

"We're here."

The barely-contained excitement in Haru's voice is not lost on Makoto, nor is the way Haru looks to him, almost as if he is asking for permission.

But that can't be true, Makoto tells himself. Because Haru has no reason to, not when it's Makoto who needs him more than he needs Makoto.

Still, he smiles and nods. "Go on. I'll follow in a bit."

Makoto watches fondly as Haru sheds his clothes as he runs towards the placid oasis waters. He turns away out of propriety just before the last article of clothing hits the ground, although it's more the principle of the thing than the actual need for it; he's seen Haru naked so many times that he's gotten used to it, and he accepts the nakedness as just another facet of Haru that he's allowed to get a glimpse of.

He takes his time walking to the shores of the oasis, doesn't hurry with disrobing the way Haru does. He isn't uncomfortable with removing all his clothes; Haru doesn't bat an eyelid when he drops his thode under the nearest palm tree, only raises a questioning eyebrow at Makoto's slow pace.

Haru holds out a hand to him, beckoning him into the water. Moonlight makes the still surface shine like a doorway to another world. Haru's reflection is distorted and blurry but still recognizable.

Makoto can't help the grin spreading across his face any more than Haru can help the smile his lips form in response.

"Come on. The water feels nice."

"All right, I'm coming."

When Makoto laces his fingers with Haru's, neither of them question it. When Haru gently pulls Makoto into the water, Makoto isn't afraid. When their eyes meet under the mirror surface reflecting the pale light of the moon, it confirms their bond as surely as a kiss.

Haru leans in, presses his forehead to Makoto's, and smiles that little secret smile that is a mere hint, a sliver of a thought, but is as intense as the light of the desert sun.

Makoto closes his eyes, allows Haru to share his warmth because no matter how much Haru requires of him, it would never be enough to repay what Haru gives him with every look, every smile, every word.

He pulls Haru close, and gives him everything.

The moon is an arrant thief, and his pale fire he snatches from the sun.

But that which is given freely cannot be stolen

So the moon becomes a reflection of the sun's blazing light

And the sun looks upon its silvery light with a smile.

"Haru? You know that question you asked about what wish I would ask for if you had been a Marid?"

Haru's feet kick out, propelling himself backward and pulling Makoto along with him. The water feels good under him so Makoto allows himself to be tugged along. Haru's thumb languidly draws circles on Makoto's palm, his eyes closed as they drift lazily in the water.

"Well, I think I have an answer for you," Makoto continues. He stares up at the full moon in all its splendor.

"If I could wish for anything in this world," he says, his voice dropping to a low murmur. He turns his head, and sees Haru looking at him with those bright blue eyes.

"I'd wish for you," he finishes with a wistful smile.

Haru's silence scares him, because this time, he can't read the expression on Haru's face.

"Why would you waste a wish on me?" Haru finally asks, bewilderment pulling the corners of his mouth down. "You should wish for a lifetime supply of water or mackerel instead."

"Eh?" Makoto laughs because that sort of simple wish describes Haru more aptly than any word can. "I suppose water would have been a close second, although Rin might get mad about us stealing his business."

"And mackerel?"

"Ah, I'm not so sure about that."

Makoto turns their intertwined hands so his is cradling Haru's. "But my first wish will always be for you. That won't ever change."

"In that case," Haru mumbles. "Consider your wish granted."

Makoto's eyes widen with shock. He flails wildly in the water, and it's only thanks to Haru's steadying hand that he doesn't go under.

"Haru?!"

"You heard me," Haru grouses. "Don't make me say it again, idiot. I was going to tell you that I'm staying behind when the clan leaves, but then you had to go and say something embarrassing."

Haru averts his eyes, a tint of red spreading across his cheeks. "Stupid Makoto."

"But," Makoto splutters. "Are you sure? I mean, what about your family? Your clan?"

"It's not like I'll never see them again if I stay," Haru states matter-of-factly, his words punctuated with an eye-roll. "Besides, there are hardly any oases in the South as beautiful as this one."

His gaze roves around the palm-ringed waters, softening when it comes to rest on Makoto's face.

"Haru…"

Haru pulls away abruptly, his face turned away.

Ah, maybe he's a bit embarrassed?

Haru tosses a look over his shoulder—a red-cheeks, pursed lips kind of look that sets Makoto's heart ablaze.

"You and Ran and Ren can be my new family. Auntie and Uncle too."

The moonlight illuminates Haru's form, and the last of Makoto's inhibitions fall away in the wake of Haru's words.

He touches a finger to the small of Haru's back, runs it up his spine, urging Haru to turn and look at him.

They don't need words, not like this, not when their thoughts mirror each other's so perfectly.

Under the watchful eye of the full moon, their lips come together in a kiss.

Spurred on by the moon's quiet elegance

The sun shines brighter

And during times when his light dims into mere embers of sunset

The moon rises, and his spark is lit anew

And so it goes.

A/N: This was written for the Free! shipping relay over on tumblr. Our team prompt was a quote from Timon of Athens: "The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun." I incorporated that into the story but the rest of the a-little-more-than-slightly cringeworthy text masquerading as a poem of sorts is from the bowels of my mind.

Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed this drabble-ish thing I did. And check out the shipping relay on tumblr since there's a lot of good works there (but browse the pairing tags if you're an exclusive MakoHaru shipper since the relay featured a lot of pairings like MakoRin and stuff).