The commander's twice-daily rounds of the camp were mainly for the sake of his men. His authority and the respect the man himself was accorded kept the rank and file from speaking anything other than praise and pleasantries, so his walks gained him no real useful information. The geniality that was part and particle of his personality, however, kept his presence from being an unwelcome restraint on the men during his visits. There could not be the sort of familiarity and openness between them that would let him hear all of the doubts and true complaints that some no doubt harbored in their breasts, but he continued his habit of wandering from group to group as the morning and evening meals were served, whenever circumstances permitted it.
When the soldiers were breaking their fast, he inquired as to how they had slept and encouraged them for the coming day. Among the cheerful good mornings and inquiries in turn were easygoing complaints about things that he had no control over and therefore could not feel any real blame for, such as the weather. When they were at their final meal of the day, he asked how they had fared since morning. If they had been resting, he would make mocking inspections and claim they were grown fat and lazy. If they had been fighting, he spent most of his time in the healer's tents. Even when he was not immediately before them, the men he commanded knew he was with some of them, somewhere, and it had the same effect as if they'd been able to experience his hearty smiles and spirited laughter in person.
The commander never found out anything really important or useful, but that was not the point. His purpose was to make the men he directed feel more than just his authority; he wished them to know his care. And when the visits continued, day after day, week after week, during every meal that they had the opportunity to take sitting down, even the soldiers who had not known him before this war grew to feel that his concern was real. He cheered the men with his presence and interest, received official concerns through the proper chain of command, and heard about what the men were really thinking from his priest.
Though both commander and priest received offers of a morsel or draught as they made their separate rounds, neither ever partook. The commander refused to take even one bite out of the mouths of his men, and the priest generally laughingly refused on the grounds that he had no wish to endanger his figure by eating more than he ought. They both visited around the camp, taking opposite areas and traveling clockwise like moons circling the same planet so that everyone got at least a nod or smile from one or the other. It was theirs to begin each exchange, but most of their time was spent in listening, not talking, and they saved the bulk of their breath for when they sat down together for their own meal. Then the commander got to hear the gossip.
Tonight was no exception to the routine; the two sat down to table in the tent they shared and soon as the servants had withdrawn, Fai related the little complaints and concerns that he'd picked up while on his rounds. What the men could not rightly say to the commander's face or even filter up through their captain without seeming accusing or disrespectful, they could hint to the priest, knowing that it would eventually reach their leader's ear.
As a religious figure instead of a military one, even one of the least ranks could speak to Fai freely; not quite as an equal, but as to one of a nebulous, almost neutral stature. The foreign-born man had status as the Lord of Suwa's son by marriage and the chosen one of the heir to Suwa and the Tsukuyomi's personal bodyguard, as well as in his own right as the second priest of the Suwa Province, but even all this was balanced out by the fact that he was not native by blood. Add to this the man's natural charm and glibness of tongue, and Fai was very effective indeed as the unofficial channel to the commander's favor, and the commander's not-so-secret ear among the men.
The priest did most of the talking during dinner, though the commander did his share of filling in the silences in giving his decisions and answers and opinions, and in sharing the news that the outriders and message birds would bring in. It worked out perfectly well, for Fai tended to eat less and quite frankly, loved to talk. And when tea and dinner were cleared away and new teapots hot from the fire or bottles fresh-chilled in the river brought in as the lord wished, and the servants sent away for the night, the priest and commander ended their talks, and Fai settled down for chat with his father-in-law.
At home, this tended to be the time of trial for Kurogane, when he would sometimes question aloud his decision to let Fai meet his parents. The wizard had never known such a family intimacy of two generations gathering together, night after night, purely for the joy of each other's company and conversation. The blonde could not remember his father and only had vague, melancholy memories of his mother, and while he still held on to some cherished happy memories of his brother, they were always tinged with the bittersweetness of rejoicing in each other's love because each other was all they had. It had been a desperate, starved childhood, and his youth had been happier only by comparison. He'd laughed and smiled and sung and danced and been heartbroken or lying to himself through it all.
Upon finding himself in the middle of a warm and loving family such as he had not believed he would ever be a part of, Fai had at first kept himself hesitantly along the fringes of these - to him - intimate moments. He would sit by his husband but keep out of the conversations, especially when they touched on memories that he had no part of, almost feeling like an intruder due to his awkwardness and inexperience in how to be a member of such a family. He had learned how to be a true lover, sharing heart and mind as well as body, but being such a son as the Lord and Lady of Suwa deserved was daunting to him.
As Kurogane had taught Fai all over again what it was to smile and love, so did the twice-orphaned mage's new parents teach him what it was to be a beloved child. Fai had found his father-in-law to be as open and accepting as Kurogane was direct, and his mother-in-law's serenity and gentleness outshone even her matchless beauty. And they were all three of them kind to him and protective of him, each in their own way. Fai had been awed, had his hesitations very quickly overcome, and finally had his heart utterly overwhelmed by it all, and one night had wept uncontrollably from sheer gratitude. Kurogane had been driven nearly to distraction by the vehemence of the blonde's tears as well as his inability to stop crying long enough to even speak the reason for the waterworks. When Fai had finally dried up - possibly from sheer dehydration - and been able to explain, the ninja had seemed torn between exasperation at the somewhat anticlimactic revelation and anger for everyone, fate included, responsible for the tragedies the wizard had suffered that made his current simple happiness so unbearably wonderful.
After getting a painless bonk on the head with one knuckle and a soft kiss, Fai had gone to sleep that night, eyes swollen and head aching and feeling like he might die from how happy he was and how fearful he was that it was all a dream. He'd woken up the next day refreshed and rejuvenated, and thrown himself into his new happiness with an enthusiasm that still took Kurogane aback sometimes. The ninja was a bit more formal in some ways than his parents thanks to all his years at Shirasagi, and even after three years, hadn't quite gotten used to seeing Fai cover his mother in kisses or hearing the mage reassign the "Kuro-Daddy" nickname to his father.
Fai had given him a new nickname of "Kuro-Hubby" to make up for it, but the ninja had still sulked a bit.
The cozy after-dinner chats continued for Fai even when the family was whittled down to only two members and the home scene was replaced by the canvas walls of a tent, and he was both warmed with gratitude for the blessing and made melancholy at times by remembering those who were absent. So as not to let himself fall into distracting depression, he made concerted efforts to keep his thoughts reined in tightly, and also did his best to remain cheerful during these quiet evenings when they could spare a whole hour or two instead of just a handful of minutes before needing to rest in preparation for the next day's battle or journey.
Today, however, his father-in-law steered the conversation deliberately into a conversational bramble.
"Have you thought on what I said?" the dark-haired man asked, after a companionable silence to let the meal settle. Fai nodded slowly and set his cup down carefully so as not to make any unseemly clatter with ceramic against polished wood. Though he'd been busy all the afternoon and early evening, the blonde had still had enough time to revisit and refine his thoughts, and he was ready to answer.
"I know him; his strength comes from within," Fai said, smiling softly down at his cup as he thought of Kurogane. "And he knows me even better than I know myself. I believe he would never need to seek out a bondmate for himself and would refuse to be someone else's bonded one for the sake of my feelings even if he might wish it out of kindness or need."
Red eyes were intent on him and the dark head nodded slowly, in approval or agreement, or perhaps both. Fai thought that perhaps the simple query and response might close this particular conversation, but then his father-in-law posed another question.
"And if you found later that he had taken a bonded one, for whatever reasons might befall him? Would you forgive him?"
Blue eyes blinked, and the wizard took a moment to consider. The question had already occurred to him as he'd thought over the main question, but he'd dismissed it more than decided upon it. After asking himself once more what he would do, however, the answer was still the same. The blonde head shook slowly side to side, but there was a smile curving the wizard's lips.
"There'd be nothing to forgive, would there?" he asked rhetorically, and this time instead of a nod, he got a smile, slow and warm. "He'd never do anything to betray me. Or rather, I should say that he would never betray himself. If he takes a bonded one, it will be because it was right to do so."
"After all you've suffered at the hands of others, one might have thought you would suffer more from blindness and jealousy," the lord commented, his tone more wondering than suspicious, and again Fai shook his head and smiled.
"I've drunk enough of that poison," the blonde replied. "He's never given me anything but honesty, brutal or no, and nearly ten years has been enough time to wear down even my misgivings."
"Good," replied his father-in-law with a chuckle. "We have not failed utterly in raising him then, if you've nothing to reproach me with on that score."
"You know the respect and regard I have for your son," Fai said, letting his eyes and tone speak the passionate assurance that this super-private culture wouldn't let him express in words. Less was more in this language, and the wizard had grown to appreciate the difference between leaving things unsaid and not needing to say anything, more and more over the years.
"I do know it," his father-in-law agreed. "And because I know it, I will now express concern over the fact that you denied utterly any desire to find a bonded one for yourself." Red eyes watched attentively as Fai went through a quick succession of reactions, his face changing with every new emotion; surprise, embarrassment, offense and anger, disbelief, confusion and doubt. He had considered the concept of bondmates from the perspective of the men he served and the man he missed, but hadn't applied it to himself. Rather than letting Fai possibly sink into unease over whether there was reproach hidden in the gently spoken words, the lord spoke again.
"There was a time not long after my son brought you home and announced his intentions that I drew him aside to have him talk to me of you," he confessed, and then patted the floor of the tent near himself, inviting his son-in-law closer. The blonde's expression turned quizzical at this turn of the conversation, and the little crease between his eyebrows smoothed out as well as he quickly stood and moved his cushion over so that they were only a foot or so apart, sharing a corner of the table instead of sitting on opposite sides.
"I'd never met one so foreign," the dark-haired man continued, "and it wasn't just these otherworldly looks of yours; every gesture and nuance and all the turns of your mind were something out of a different land, and I could not be certain...no, I knew I did not understand you. I could not rightly agree to be your father and offer you our name and the protection of our household without knowing you better, so I had my son tell me about your travels together."
"We told you everything when we first arrived," the puzzled listener commented with a tip of his fair head.
"What my son tells me when you are sitting next to him and what he tells me when he and I are alone are sometimes two very different things," came the amused reply. "He would not speak of the concern you gave him, nor the pain, while you were before him, and those were the things I wished to know. What made him fear for you. What made him angry."
Slender shoulders drooped a bit at the thought of all the communications Kurogane could have made on those topics. They'd long ago cleared away the misunderstandings about what the terse and sometimes tactless ninja had meant when he'd told Fai that he hated certain types of people. Yes, he hated certain types of people. But he hadn't berated Fai for being one. He'd berated Fai for acting like one when the ninja knew that the man was made of better stuff. There were still so many conversations - or lacks of one - from so many worlds, though, where the blonde's quick wit and glib tongue had been used against the fierce warrior like weapons.
"That must have taken a long time to tell," Fai murmured, his smile a bit sad now. He was put right back into surprise, however, at the reply he got.
"A fifth of an hour or so," the lord said after a moment of thinking back. "I suppose it was long, considering how little he likes to talk sometimes. It would have taken less time, but for every darkened or weak moment, he went on to praise the strength you'd grown into."
"Tell me what he said," Fai requested, suddenly puppy-eager, but he got laughed at and patted on the head; a meet gesture for his childish demand.
"I'll do better than that; I'll make him tell you when we all meet again," the lord promised, and such was the man's influence that for once his son-in-law believed wholly in the idea instead of fearing that it would never happen. "But I will tell you what I understood."
The blonde head nodded, the wisps of shorter hair waving about the expressive face. The princeling-turned-priest could playact with the best, but years of being loved and - more importantly - letting himself be loved had made keeping up a facade more of a skill than a habit. While he had taken upon himself the mantle of polite distance that was natural in this country and especially among the highborn class he had married into, Fai dropped his guard when he was in private with those he loved best. Though the conversation had so far had some awkward moments, he was still relaxed here in the presence of the only family member he still had within miles of himself, and all his thoughts showed fairly plainly upon his face.
"My son is strong, as are you, but your strengths are very different," his father-in-law began. "As you said earlier, he carries his strength with him. It is almost no merit, for he is like a dragon; he is strong because he is who he is. He was born so, and so he simply is. You...your strength was earned, I think. Blood and tears and the ashes of your heart. Perhaps it's because you're his chosen one or because I remember the picture you drew once of the tattoo your king gave you, but I think of you as a phoenix. You live passionately and sometimes burn in your own fires, and rise again." A long, thoughtful pause, and then he spoke again.
"I think you're starting to singe."
"No," Fai protested, that little wrinkle back between his eyebrows and his spine straightening. "I'm fine. I know I've been broken before but I'm stronger now; I've laid my past to rest and-" He would have gone on to say more, save that a large tan hand was raised now to stop him, and he subsided, both in voice and in posture.
"I know you're strong; I just said so," the taller said reassuringly, and not without amusement. "I don't think you were ever weak, then or now. I think you don't understand how best to maintain your strength. Think of it as another aspect of your health. You must eat and sleep and take exercise to maintain it. My son's strength comes from within, so all he need do is be true to himself and his own principles, and he has an endless source of strength. Your strength comes from having those to love and letting yourself be loved in turn. Without this, your wellspring begins to dry up. Heed the hard-earned wisdom of your elder." He said the last in a persuasive tone, though he grinned as he said it, and the blonde sitting near him snorted and smiled in reply.
"I'm older than you," Fai reminded his father-in-law.
"You were born before I was," the man both agreed and argued, "but I have lived more than you have. Now pay attention, stubborn little kit." The vulpine nickname cancelled out the reprimand, and the blonde smiled despite the topic they were on.
Fai's unusual coloring and powerful magic had earned him some suspicion when he'd first arrived in Nihon to settle as a permanent resident, and a rumor had taken hold that the Lord of Suwa's heir had been bewitched by a mischievous fox spirit, or "yako". The somewhat malign moniker had been softened into the more affectionate nickname of "zenko" or benevolent fox spirit as people had gotten to know the strange stranger better, and Fai himself had adapted to his new world. By the time he entered the Kurogane household officially, people were actually congratulating the young master on finding and binding such a powerful and lucky spirit to him, and Fai was called "zenko" almost as often as he was called "priest". But only his father-in-law called him "kit".
"It's been four months," the dark-haired man said, resuming a more sober and serious air. "I haven't heard you mention my son nor my wife unless I force you to it. I know you must think of them often, as fond of heart as you are, but you're either stifling or turning your face from your own thoughts, and it's beginning to wear on you." At this, Fai could feel protests welling up inside his throat all over again, and it seemed to show in his face, for he got another placating gesture.
"You're far from breaking, but 'far from breaking' is still not 'perfectly sound', and just as we repair even a single broken stitch in our saddles as soon as we have the opportunity, I will not let you begin to wear down if it can be prevented. We have another week or so before the other battalions join us, and a few days to properly order the regiment, and then we ride. And three days after that...we decide the battle." The air in the tent seemed to grow close and heavy as the commander so succinctly laid out their near futures, and Fai thinned his lips and grew a bit tense as the man continued speaking.
"We will win the war - I am as sure of it as I can be - but I am no dreamseer like my Lady, to catch glimpses of our future. I do not know what awaits us. I do not know what awaits you, and I will not have you strained to where a sudden shock undoes you, even temporarily. I do not mean that I fear you'll break as you did in Infinity, but the consequences will be just as dire if you lose command of yourself so far as to become heedless of your own safety for even five seconds. Let the wards warp, and you may suffer guilt over the lives lost because of it. Let your guard drop, and you may pay an even greater price. As commander it is my duty to ensure that my priest - one of my weapons - is battle ready. As a father, I owe it to my son to ensure his chosen one is returned to him safe and sound. As your father, I would keep you happy for my own sake." The Lord of Suwa let these ideas sink in for a moment, and he soon saw in Fai's face that the mage was past the impulse of defensiveness and taking in what was being said.
"You mustn't overdraw your bow or stuff your pack too full," the pseudo-older man said, relating these little nuggets of common sense with a fond smile. "Neither should you strain your heart too much. Not you, with all your history of loss and depth of feeling." The deep voice was strong with conviction and the wisdom that experience brings, not education, and then grew gentler as the lord exhorted his son-in-law to take care of himself, not just watch over others. "Speak of those you miss. Do not let delicacy toward me keep you silent even of your mother. Take comfort from the good memories and hope for more in the future. Weep if you miss your husband and be not ashamed of it. And let someone hold you and keep you warm if you are lonely and yearning. Let yourself be comforted."
Fai listened and understood, agreed with most of it and was yet bewildered by the remainder.
"What are you saying?" he asked finally in a plaintive voice. "That I should run out and find a bonded one for myself? I understand what you say. I do. But you cannot think I could find any comfort in the arms of a stranger or friendly acquaintance."
"No, I cannot," the other agreed, and then smiled again as Fai quirked his eyebrows up in incomprehension, feeling as if he'd somehow lost his way in this conversation and now stood in the middle of a mist without knowing when and how he'd gotten there. The blonde waited, but the sometimes quite loquacious - at least in comparison of his son - man had fallen silent for the moment and just looked at Fai, waiting.
It was the look of a parent, a guardian, a teacher; someone born to guide and protect and love. Patient, not simply because the man was patient, but because he expected Fai to have the intelligence to understand what was being said sooner rather than later. The red eyes were expectant and the corner of the man's mouth was tugging up into its habitual amusement. It was the look of someone waiting for their companion to get the point of a fable, or find the humor in a tale.
Fai thought about it. The idea that he was to find a bonded one among the men in their camp was not what his father-in-law was trying to communicate. But when he attempted to discard the entire idea, he was left with nothing. This particular portion of the conversation had begun and continued and ended on the idea of Fai finding comfort for himself, and the topic all along had been on bonded ones. So he was being encouraged toward the idea of finding a bonded one for himself, but not among the many strangers and acquaintances. Someone, instead, whom he knew intimately enough to be able to enjoy another sort of intimacy with. Someone he knew and cared for and trusted and...
"You're joking," he blurted, eyes gone wide and lingering formality lying dead on the floor. The lord took this casual, almost insolent familiarity in stride and only smiled yet more and shook his head.
"Why do you think he assigned you as my priest, when he found that he could not keep you by his own side?" he asked, and watched in surprise and then comprehension when his son-in-law's face went slack in shock and then crumbled.
"He didn't tell you that he'd tried to take you with him," he murmured then, in a low voice almost as if only speaking to himself, and now he sighed and shook his head, all traces of amusement gone temporarily. "That stubborn, prideful idiot."
Fai involuntarily laughed at hearing the word "idiot" applied to Kurogane for once, but it was a short, breathy little thing that he hastily suppressed with one shaky hand in case it turned into a sob. He missed his beloved more than ever now, and the longing he was being encouraged to express instead of smother and ignore almost overwhelmed him. He looked this way and that, casting about on the mats and table and canvas walls for something to focus on and failing to find a decent spot to anchor his mind. Blue eyes finally moved to lock with red ones, but Fai remained silent, unable to think of anything to say. He could hardly order his thoughts, all jumbled and confused and disturbed by emotion as they were.
"You needn't change anything," his father-in-law said after a long look. "If we were mistaken, and you will suffer no less strain in bearing your loneliness in silence than if you asked me to comfort you, then let it be so."
Distracted by the discovery both heartwarming and heartbreaking that Kurogane had indeed attempted to keep the two of them together, the wizard had missed the other implication in the other man's words, but now he snapped his head up in startlement as one word in particular caught his attention.
"'We'..." quoted Fai in a slightly choked voice, dropping his hand away to land on the table as if for support. "You two discussed this?" Hey Dad, off to war. Keep my spouse warm for me, will you?
"Not in so many words," replied the taller, with a snort at the idea of such a conversation. "When he took leave of us-"
"'Us'?" Fai then squeaked, voice and blood pressure rising with each new fragment of information. "Mother was in the room?" Oh by the way, he likes having his hair touched, too.
"Don't interrupt when your elder is speaking; it's rude. And of course she was." His tone was more teasing than scolding, but not much of either. The watchfulness and concern that had made him draw Fai aside for the beginning of this talk during the afternoon was more apparent now as the priest's composure unraveled. "I tried to convey to you that this thing is known and accepted, and I meant by all," he added quietly.
Fai wanted to faint. Apparently three years wasn't long enough in a country to negate the possibility of culture shock. The blonde had thought he'd done a fairly good job of taking in the concept of bondmates in a short period of time, but having to apply it directly to his own life was spinning his head on his shoulders. He did his level best to pay attention when his father-in-law continued speaking after Fai's unthinking interruption, but it was hard to listen over the sounds of his brain breaking.
"When he took leave, he told me to take care of you, and to let you guard me as you would," came the explanation, and then a question was asked. "And what did he say to you, when he parted from you that morning?"
"...to keep you safe, and...to let you take care of me," Fai answered in a faint voice. Oh but surely Kurogane hadn't meant this.
The dark head nodded, and Fai was given another lengthy, assessing look. The blonde had preserved his calm while considering the concept of bonded ones in a general way, but Fai now feared that he wasn't weathering this closer-to-home conversation very well. When his father-in-law spoke again, however, there was no chiding or unkind humor, and no pressing. Just...options.
"So then, let me take care of you," the man said in a mild, conversational manner. "Whether that takes the form of my being the one to whom you can speak freely, or whether you wish me to be your bonded one, is yours to decide. I can lend you what comfort you wish; ear, shoulder, arms, or all. You understood earlier that there is none of the wrongdoing or betrayal in the men finding bondmates for themselves. And you also understood that he, who was born and raised here though you first met him in another world, thinks of it as a right and good thing when it is needful. So try to understand now that he made certain you would have someone you could turn to, and I am offering to be that one, for only one reason; we care for you."
Fai struggled and his father-in-law waited, the air grown hushed and quiet as if even their tent was anticipating the wizard's answer. With day's end, the hum of background noise that all the conversation and bustle of the camp created had died down, and all was quiet both within and without. A strange reluctance to break the silence grew over the mage, but he knew that he was expected to respond in one way or another. The problem was, he had no idea what to say.
"I don't know what I want of you right now," Fai finally confessed a bit helplessly. As it often was, the wizard found that the anxious anticipation he'd been suffering through was far worse than the actual event.
"You don't have to," came the reply, easy and understanding, and it took some tension out of the slender shoulders. "Sleep on it if you wish. For as many nights as you need. I only drew you aside earlier today to begin this conversation because I thought you were showing signs of strain, not because I thought you were already beginning to break under it."
Fai thought it unlikely that he would be able to fall asleep, all full as his head was, but he decided that admitting it would sound too much like a thinly veiled request to be invited to bed to do otherwise than sleep, so the wizard kept his mouth shut. He smiled and nodded and then thanked his father-in-law for his attention and concern, and the short remainder of the evening slipped speedily through his rather taxed mental fingers.
As soon as he was lying upon his sleeping mat, however, time slowed to a crawl and he watched its progress with wide eyes despite all circumstances being favorable for slumber. The night was peaceful but not too eerily quiet with the rivers, horses and night birds providing a soothing murmur, the weather was open and the temperature just chilly enough to make the weight of his blanket welcome. Neither was there anything within the tent to keep him from sleep. The lamp was doused, wisps of a breeze filtered in through the lightly fastened entrance to the tent to keep the air from turning stifling, and his tent-mate didn't snore.
As for himself, he was well, unwounded and washed up. The simple robe he wore to sleep in was clean and comfortable. He was warm, dry and fed.
To counterbalance all this, he missed Kurogane so much that it was causing him physical pain. In an effort to be strong - stoic and reliable like the man he so loved, the men he so respected - he'd been repressing the tendency to dwell on all that made him worry and fret. It wasn't the way he was meant to properly deal with stress, however, and his commander had called him on it. Insight had been provided by Fai's husband and action taken by Fai's father-in-law, and now the blonde lay curled around his aching, burning heart and struggling with the idea of the comfort he was allowed to ask for.
His mind kept whirling around everything he'd been told. He understood the concept and value of bonded ones. He knew that while the personal values and morals that he'd grown up with weren't wrong, per se, it was for his happiness that he adapt himself to the differences found in his third - and final - home. It wasn't as if there were any major differences, in fact. Murder and adultery and stealing were still wrong. There were just some minor adjustments.
When he reasoned things out thusly, it sounded simple. But when he imagined crawling a few feet across the matting and being drawn into his tent-mate's arms, he squirmed and buried his face into two fistfuls of blanket, confused all out of composure. And he did imagine it despite himself, because he'd gotten to the point where he couldn't deny that he desired comfort, and that of a physical kind. A childhood spent yearning for human contact had formed him into an adult with a bit of a hedonistic streak where touch was concerned, and after four months away from his lover, he realized that he was starving.
Fai might have found settling down in Nihon a bit hard due to his ingrained craving for physical affection, since the people of this country were averse to casual physical contact. Instead of kisses or hugs or hand-clasps, people exchanged nods and bows and eye contact. The only time Fai saw a woman sitting in a man's lap was if she was being hired out by the half-hour, and if someone was holding your hand as you walked down the street, it was because you were too big to be carried but too young to be trusted not to toddle off in a different direction.
Kurogane had made the necessary circumspection more than bearable, however, by indulging his clingy beloved whenever they were alone. As Fai had grown more comfortable in his new home, he'd begun to test the waters and had eventually discovered the invisible boundaries within which he lived. With his husband and in-laws, he could be utterly unrestrained. Before most of the senior servants, he could still cuddle and hand out light kisses at will. Under other eyes, he needed to keep his more affectionate tendencies under wraps. It had turned out not to be so bad, however, for privacy was so valued in Nihon that despite the sheer number of servants roaming about, most of the time he was left alone with his companion of the moment unless they actually went into the kitchens or stables or some other part of the manor generally considered to be the servants' domain.
Fai had even discovered a new delight to be found in forced restraint. He hadn't understood the charm of delayed gratification until coming to Nihon and finally, finally understanding that "tomorrow" was not such an unknown, uncertain thing. There was now a charm in waiting for things - a kiss, a meal, a holiday, a change of seasons - because he could be almost certain that if he only waited, he would receive. Death still loomed, but at a distance instead of around every corner. They no longer had to live out of packs, never knowing when Mokona-chan would sprout wings and whisk them away to another world. And he wasn't just a convenient bedmate; he was Kurogane's until death.
The blonde now had a room, and furniture, and boxes of off-season clothes in storage. He had feasted on yellow cherries until the end of the season and had been able to look forward to tasting them again the next year. He had made new acquaintances and had been able to look forward to getting to know them better. He had congratulated men on their wives conceiving and had been able to look forward to seeing which parent the child resembled most when it was born. And when he'd been on his best behavior before guests but had found a moment in which to surreptitiously give Kurogane a fond look and a particular smile, he'd looked forward to being ambushed later in a quiet hallway and then dragged off to a conveniently empty room.
He'd known how to wait fearfully. Kurogane had taught him to eagerly anticipate.
For years now, Fai had been indulged - shamelessly spoiled, even - in his desire for love, both emotional and physical. Kurogane was many things but shy was not one of them. The ninja desired privacy, but once that was supplied, he met, matched and sometimes even outstripped Fai in depth of passion and desire for intimacy. Once he'd finally rooted out the cause of Fai's tendency towards clinginess, Kurogane had even ceased complaining about heat and discomfort and willingly allowed his sweaty, sticky, contentedly purring lover to fall asleep while glued to him, nose to toes.
Seven years of being the man's lover, five years of knowing - really knowing - he was loved, and three years of perfect happiness of family and home were bad preparatory work, in a way, for going off to war for such a one as Fai. It had been four months since he'd touched and been touched by his husband, three weeks since he'd even heard news of him, and now that he was allowing himself to actually miss the man, the bereft blonde suddenly felt as if he'd just curl up and die if he wasn't held and soothed. He wanted Kurogane, not just for sex although the gods only knew he wanted that pretty badly, but simply to hold and be held, to gaze into crimson eyes and listen to deep, even breaths. Knowing that he couldn't have Kurogane at that moment led to thoughts of what he could have, and then he was writhing and trying to drown himself in his bedding again.
He wondered if he could suffocate himself in his blanket and pass out, because sleep wasn't happening naturally.
"Stop thinking so loudly; you're keeping me awake," a deep voice noted dryly, and Fai startled and then laughed a short, helpless laugh.
"I apologize," he murmured contritely, and tried to settle down, both body and brain. A futile attempt, he knew, but he had to at least try. He kind of wished in a wry, not-really-meaning-it kind of way that his father-in-law had kept his mouth shut. Was there something in this bloodline that made its members physiologically incapable of letting him mope?
"Never mind the apology," the other man said while propping himself up on one elbow, and then patted the mat he lay upon much as he'd done to the floor earlier when inviting Fai to sit closer 'round the table. "Come over here."
Though generally obedient to this man's orders, there was a decided hesitation at this point from the blonde, and there came a chuckle from the shadowy figure.
"I'm not going to throw you down and devour you, kit. Just come here."
This was met with another silence, perhaps a bit heavier than the one previous due to the mental images now hanging in the air somewhere between the two beds, but the Lord of Suwa was a patient man and waited quietly. If he was amused at the blonde's uncertainty, he only indulged in a grin, not a laugh, and his expression was lost in shadows. When Fai realized that the man was serious, he flipped back his blanket and crept over, a ghost in a pale grey robe. His wide blue eyes caught at what little light there was, and the loose strands of his hair drifted about his face as he moved, gold bleached to silver in the darkness.
Fai knelt, full of curiosity and with random expectations flitting in and out of his head, and looked seekingly at his father-in-law. Instead of further speech, there was a large hand sliding up along his bare forearm and then over his sleeve. Before the wizard could do much more than take in a quick breath and feel his heart kick against his ribs, he was unceremoniously grabbed by one shoulder and turned. One blink later, Fai was once again on his side on a sleeping mat with a blanket settling cozily over him.
The sleeping mat and blanket, however, were not his own, nor was the warmth seeping through his robe and into his skin. Fai turned his head and tried to peer up over his shoulder, but got his hair ruffled into his eyes and had to squint them shut. The fond, parental gesture made him laugh breathily. It was too much of a contrast to the ideas that had flashed through his mind at the initial touch of that calloused, gentle hand.
Whatever his mind might try to claim in its more careful moments, his immediate - honest - reaction to the fingers running up his arm was difficult to argue with. He had wondered if he was about to be dragged down for a kiss. He'd even thought that he could predict how it would be; a gentle but insistent tug down, everything at a slow but not-too-slow pace that would leave him time enough to turn his face away if he wanted but not enough time to over-think and get skittish. He'd imagined warmth of breath and skin, he'd wondered if these lips resembled Kurogane's in taste and feel as well as look, and he had wanted.
But instead of being tugged down for a kiss, he'd been tucked in and given a pat on the head. He just had to laugh.
"I thought you said you weren't going to throw me down?" he asked in a stage whisper, combing his bangs out of his eyes and pillowing his head on the cloth-covered bicep conveniently nearby.
"I said I wouldn't throw you down and devour you," came the reply, accompanied by a chuckle. "I said nothing of throwing you down and mussing your hair."
"Ah, I see." There was a thoughtful pause, and then he chirped up again. "I thought I had to ask first before you became my bonded one?" Fai queried, turning his head again to peer sidelong over the muscular arm draped along his own and falling across his hip.
"You do. But you're not in my bed as a lover right now. I'm soothing a fussy child who won't go to sleep."
Fai couldn't argue that one. He wriggled a bit to settle himself more comfortably, accepting his cozy fate for the night and pondering.
"I thought-"
"You think too much," interrupted his tent-mate turned bed-mate, and then growled out his next few words in a way that tickled at Fai, both against the curve of his ear and somewhere underneath his breastbone. "Go. To. Sleep."
"Yes Kuro-Daddy." A snort ruffled Fai's hair at this playful acquiescence.
"Scamp."