[Week 69] [Word Count 400+ words] [Theme: Adored]
Title: Affection and guilt
Author: beyondthemoor on LJ
Pairing: Ensei x Shuurei x Seiran (friendship-love)
Fandom: SaiMono
Canon or AU: Canon
Word count: (approx. 2,400 words…)
Genre: angst/friendship-romance-bromance
Disclaimer: I do not own SaiMono! (Just some DVDs, art-books, manga. Maybe an altar…)
Summary: Bro-mance and romance and adoration. Sometimes, a bit of jealousy, too. Ensei x Shuurei x Seiran (friendship-love)
Prompt: Adored
AN: Rough, I apologise. I shifted POV so many times I think I confused myself! ;) This is pure fanservice. Written for the 'Adored' prompt on the saiun_challenge LJ comm. (Come check it out!)
It was when Ensei grabbed them both around the shoulders, that morning in the market, that Seiran realized the shift had occurred; that instead of screaming and hitting and trying to shake him off, Shuurei laughed and leaned into the embrace and teased right back; that Ensei's rakish grin softened and the lines around his eyes eased into something akin to adoration; and the usual irritation Seiran felt at his friend's presence instead changed to surprise, then suspicion, and finally wounded understanding.
And when he'd finally disentangled himself from his loud associate's wandering hands, and he'd told him off for assaulting his Ojou-sama in public, Ensei had had the gall, the sheer gall, to taunt him.
"I would apologise for making you jealous, but 'jou-chan doesn't belong to you!"
The careless words had stung with truth more than he'd ever admit.
As Seiran went about his chores that afternoon, his thoughts kept circling back to Ensei's jab.
He wasn't jealous of 'every man' who came into his Ojou-sama's life. Plenty of men had shown interest in her.
Even close friends.
The soldier's movements stayed a moment, his gait slowing, before he refocused and moved on again.
His eyes narrowed in quiet reflection as he remembered the camaraderie they'd all shared that morning in the market as they did their shopping.
Plenty…
A low exhale left his lips as he found himself getting worked up, and he forced a calming pace upon his increased heart rate. Plenty, but never before had she reciprocated.
Until…
It was when she looked up happily into another's eyes, her expression bright and expectant, her mouth slightly open, her laughter free, her arms sneaking out to curl through another's elbow, that he'd become unsettled.
And yet all the while during their outing, he'd felt her eyes doting and checking on him. Sometimes she'd been looking back at him for reassurance, to make sure he was close by, to know he was there in case she needed him. But not as often as usual. Not that morning. There was something different. Something in the routine had changed.
Seiran knew she adored him; she'd told him that he was her second favourite person in the world (and second to her father at that—a position that no man could ever challenge).
It was who else she adored, too, whose embrace she returned, that he became wary and jealous of. Because it was becoming clearer that she cared for more than one person in her sphere; as did he.
… and having a third in a relationship like theirs would arouse even further complications.
The banished prince could never overcome the limits of his position of retainer with regards to his Ojou-sama. For so long it had protected them and provided him with almost everything he'd ever wanted. Almost.
He had no claim to her to defend, and knew he was in no position to request one; he also recognized that she protected the unspoken bond between them all, and he felt guilty he could do no more for her.
Especially while another potentially could.
And he had no right to restrict either of their movements.
Another who had been his comrade in arms, another he almost saw as a brother of sorts, another who, he knew, could make her truly happy and who would be happy with her for the rest of their lives. Another he'd also, though he'd never admit it, be able to trust her to, to trust his own life to, because he knew it would be treasured and forever protected. He couldn't ask that other person not to care for the person he felt affection for, anymore than he could stop adoring her himself. He adored them both.
Within his chest, Seiran felt the curse of affection and guilt… because a part of him did want to ask the other to back off, to go away, to not be the person he was. Even if it deprived them all.
Because they adored each other, all three of them. As Ensei had said, it was obvious; as obvious to Ensei as it was to Seiran.
Because he adored them both; and she adored them both; and it was hard to tell sometimes where adoration left off, and love began.
Because, unlike love, adoring and being adored were safe…
…In a manner of speaking.
"It's because you're learning to share," wheedled Ensei under his breath, not-so-secretly enjoying his friend's discomfort. "Stop sulking like a child."
As he had been doing all day, Seiran ignored him; however, his patience was wearing thin at the other man's ribbing. If only Ojou-sama wasn't in just the next room over, he could…
"It wasn't a true confession; don't get your nose out of joint."
The large metal pot Seiran had been holding banged down heavily on the stove, and he felt his shoulders tensing as Ensei sidled closer, drying another pan, and leaned in.
"…Though it was nice."
Soft-spoken as they were, the words shot through Seiran's already jealousy-ridden composure and struck him full on.
Whirling, the silver-haired man grabbed Ensei's shirt-front in his fist and jerked him forward to glare at him, nose to nose, eye to glowing red eye.
"How dare you have her--," his furious words were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Seiran? Ensei? If one of you is free, could you please come help me for a minute?"
Turning to straighten up automatically and answer the young woman's summons, Ensei's confident grin faltered as his stomach received a rather vicious elbow, courtesy of a politely smiling Kou family retainer.
"Coming, Ojou-sama…"
Doubled over with one hand on the side of the stove to keep himself up, the shaggy-haired guest winced and curled his other arm around his middle protectively, albeit belatedly. He couldn't help it, though, when he smirked & muttered, "Royal brat never did learn to play well with others, did he? Especially not when it came to sharing." With a grunt, he pulled himself back up to standing again and went back to drying off the remaining dishes. "Or sharing his favourite person's attention, I should say…"
With a quick heave, Seiran tightened up the spare futon frame and Shuurei flopped the mattress down on top of it.
With a satisfied huff, she smiled at her almost-brother, almost-more in thanks.
"There! Everyone's was aired out today, so we should all sleep well tonight. Now, the sheets should still be over here. I can handle the rest myself, thank you, Seiran."
"All right, I'll head back to my own room, then--."
Near-silent footsteps heralded a new arrival, and Seiran felt his hackles rise all over again.
"Ah! How is our 'jou-chan? Already set me up for the night, I see. Well, that deserves a peck on the cheek—Oof!"
"Seiran!"
"Forgive me, Ojou-sama, I tripped on the futon."
Shooting a mildly reproachful glare at the normally peaceful man, Shuurei's attention flickered back to Ensei as she pulled him down and cradled his now-bruised head in her hands. Her fingers gently prodded through his scruffy hair to knead the lumps around his ears. "Really, the two of you… Do you need any ointment for this bruise, Ensei? It looks pretty sore. Seiran, could you go get the--."
"The freeloader can get it himself."
Eyebrow now twitching, Shuurei caught herself before snapping an order at him.
"Does this have anything to do with what happened this morning?" she demanded rather bluntly, releasing a hand from Ensei's head… and not realizing she'd grabbed one of his ears in its place.
Now caught, literally, bent over in the middle of a brewing argument, the normally sly man cast a quick look at the door and tried to wiggle free of his captor. With no success.
"Ojou-sama has no need to worry about--."
"I can tell when you're trying to distract me, Seiran."
His mouth hanging open, the man's silver brows furrowed a moment as he struggled to counter her remark without actually starting an argument or insulting either of them (he did not hold the same concern about insulting Ensei). He was completely taken aback, as was Ensei going by the man's shocked expression, at her words. Never had Shuurei ever chastised him in front of another.
"Perhaps I should leave to go get--," Ensei's subtle suggestion (a plea for mercy in disguise) was interrupted by a wince as Shuurei shook him to quiet him.
"Nonsense! Seiran was just about to apologise to you."
She looked at the afore-mentioned man expectantly.
"Weren't you?"
The silence was broken only by a muffled, crunching noise.
"Perhaps he'd like to apologise to me privately?" suggested Ensei jovially, recognizing the sound of Seiran grinding his teeth and trying not to laugh out loud.
With a quick, disbelieving glance that took in both men, the young woman considered a moment, and then acquiesced with a curt nod.
"Fine." She eyed them both another moment, clearly not trusting them and their fabricated 'truce'. "But if I see a single bruise on either of you, I have a list a li long of chores that need to be seen to, and you'll both be volunteering."
She walked to the door, and glared back one last time as she slid the door shut.
"Play nice."
(less than a second later)
The men ignored her huff of frustration as the sound of a freshly made futon went crashing, collapsing under their weight as one launched himself at the other to beat the ever-loving tar out of him, and the other, expecting it, laughed and dodged.
"She didn't need your help taking off her shoes!" growled Seiran, shoving Ensei's scarred face into the overturned futon.
"She wouldn't let me take the groceries!"
"Then why did you—from behind—how could you—your arms--."
"I just hugged her! I hugged you, too! At the same time!"
A very pronounced thump resonated as Seiran slammed the speaker to the ground, growling, "I know that!"
"Jealous?...." teased Ensei with a suggestive smirk. "Never fear, you'll always have a special place in my—oof!"
"Hands off Ojou-sama." A quick twist of a dark-tanned arm emphasized the point of the argument.
"Seiran—urk--, my oldest friend, have we truly parted ways? Or are you just attempting a trial separation? Perhaps, of my arm from my torso—argh."
Ensei slid out from under the silver-haired man's weight and, with a quick roll, was back on his feet, arms crossed as he smiled happily at his former comrade-in-arms.
"To think it happened over a woman, no less…"
"You're putting words in her mouth and taking them more seriously than she meant."
"You mean when I asked if she loved me or adored me?"
Seiran lunged again, this time catching Ensei around his middle and throwing him against a wall. Panting angrily, Seiran glared openly at his long-time friend and rival through his disheveled hair, holding a no-longer-hidden dagger to the man's throat. His normally smooth voice lowered a notch, and his face bit by bit became cold, then expressionless.
A line had been crossed.
"This situation is not a game, Ensei."
Without a word, the dagger was hidden again.
"Ojou-sama is not a toy."
"You mean when I asked if she loved me or adored me?"
It was the wrong thing to say.
Ensei knew it the moment it slipped out of his mouth, but there was no taking it back; he could only hope to make amends and minimize bruising, at this point. It had been a long time since he'd seen his closest friend so… emotionally expressive… and so deeply hurt, at the same time. Mentally chastising himself for not having realized how seriously his oldest acquaintance had taken his earlier remarks, Ensei resigned himself to mending the bridge of their friendship—but at the same time, he refused to let go of his goal. Neither could ask that of the other.
It had finally happened; they'd reached an impasse between them that would take a great deal to overcome. He knew Seiran was right in a way, though, he should never have spoken so flippantly about Shuurei, or her affections. It implied a lack of respect he did not feel.
He almost wanted to laugh that he and Seiran still shared so much in common, but he didn't feel that humour would go over very well at that precise moment in time.
Shoulders slumping slightly, the darker-haired man let a sigh slip through his teeth, and knew Seiran hadn't missed a moment of his internal deliberation.
It was so like the banished prince, to focus on the little details and miss the big picture.
"You know she adores you right back, don't you?" he said quietly, in case 'she' may overhear the conversation. "You're a very lucky man, to have someone so wonderful so devoted to you. I'm jealous."
A hint of the winter-cold ice in Seiran's eyes thawed at the unexpected admission.
"Seiran, think for a moment. You have a home now, a proper one where you're cared for; you have a family; you have a steadfast reputation; and you care for it all, too. You're devoted to her as she is to you. You adore her. It's obvious. I bet sometimes you even tuck her in to bed at night, kiss her on the forehead, and--."
"Enough."
"—and wish her well, walk her to work, encourage her when she has to stay late--."
"I said, enough," Seiran released the man from his hold, turning away from him slightly to walk towards the door, pretending to ignore the words though each one hit home.
"—and I bet you let her embrace you from behind and pretend you don't expect and love it, let her lean on you, let her do little things to help you around this house, too. I think the two of you adore each other, and I think--."
"I said, enough."
Ensei stilled, watching Seiran's slightly stooped back, his closed expression.
"I apologise," said Seiran quietly, not turning around. "Don't ever do that again, Ensei."
"You, either."
Seiran looked back at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"You're too obvious," clarified Ensei. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned casually against the wall that had caged him a moment earlier. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed that the connection between the two of you is more than that of family or simple friends. You can't let yourself be jealous of every man who comes into her life. Just sayin'," he put his hands up in a gesture of defeat.
There was a pause, as each man reflected on the double meaning behind the words.
The simple reply of, "I don't," ended the conversation, as the door slid open and shut between them.
THE END
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