Author's Notes: Inspired by my KHR dressing. That place is so wonderfully enabling as of late which spawned this little piece. Note, I didn't bother to beta this. I'm sure I will at some point but I'm sick and as any writer knows, when the muse fairy strikes, there is no denying it.
Summary: The law of nature will not be denied.
Pairing: 8018 (Which I believe is Hibari and Yamamoto but the only number I know for sure is 27 and 69. ;A;)
Warnings: Yaoi, obviously.
Disclaimer: This has been written for the sole entertainment of the writer and the readers. The author claims no copyright to this piece save for the nature of the writing itself and any unrecognizable characters. Absolutely no profit (except amusement) has been gained from this piece. Don't sue, it's not nice.
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It is only nature.
It begins when one sees the other fight and marvels at the beauty of it. Clean, neat and simple, but with all the brute force of a raging ocean in that it is endless and untiring. His eyes snake over that lean body, toned with uncountable years of fighting, punishing and, though he is loathe to admit it, protecting. He'll smile fondly when the mission is done, laugh as is his way of things, and ask if the other's interested in grabbing a bite to eat.
When he receives the expected brush off, he'll only smile some more and pester the being eternally. That is their way.
Now reverse the situation.
He watches him fight, and it is disgraceful. He is weak. He has moments of hesitation, never strikes to kill and always, always fights so irresponsibly. Yet despite his better judgement, he is enthralled. There is a surging force behind every blow and though he is certain when a movement is wasted, it never is. He is like the tide of an ocean, constantly shifting between peaceful and crushing. He finds, while watching him fight, that it is hard to not feel the corners of his face quirk up a little. His fingers will tingle with the adrenaline that says "I want to crush him."
The situation is changed.
They are fighting each other. One who is relentless and overwhelming and seems to surround him at every turn, crushing him under the weight of his pressure. The other who is evasive, quick to strike and quicker to draw back like the dodging swallow engraved into the base of his blade. It is poetic in a sense, even they agree. They who brought them together and were raised into the great warriors they are alongside he and him. They who watch the fight and dare not interfere because the aura exuded off of them is extraordinary. One that clashes and harmonizes; a heart wrenchingly beautiful ballad.
When the fight is done and he has won, both will withdraw to their respective rooms and nurse their wounds. The clock will tick and the hours pass. When night falls a door clicks open when no doors should make a sound and there will be footfalls when all should be asleep. Gracefully, like the dodging swallow he is, he will slip into the other's bed and lean down to press a soft kiss to impossibly soft lips which frown.
Outside, a heavy cloud will block out the moon and the tiny patter of drops begin to bat against the window panes.
Inside, he will now kiss red marks against the other's skin. Those that he applied with such force earlier, he now treats tenderly like soft waves lapping at ocean shores. As for him, his fingers will trace sharp red grooves in the pale plains of ivory, his fingers that had been so quick to make and leave those marks now linger, tracing them gently.
Both inside and outside the harmony of two implausible things will continue.
It is only nature.
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Omake
When the rain ceases to fall and the morning sun disperses what remains of the cloud, then the mist will arrive.
... but that's another story for another time.