Uncensored version found at: *AO3*/works/31047788/chapters/80638429

TRIGGER WARNING! Some discussions of the Iraq War. Some suggestive content.

The weather was one thing Cullen could not control in his plan for the day, and it was like the gloomy clouds were mocking him. They moved in until all of the sky as far as the two men could see had been obscured.

Around the time they finished exploring the garden, Cullen felt drops of wetness on his left cheek. Despite the forecast, it started to rain. But it seemed to be a short spell. If they left Sankei-en now and headed to Chinatown, it should clear up. That was Cullen's expectation.

He gestured to the young man. "You hungry? Let's go grab some lunch."

But Cullen was wrong. As they rode a local bus through countless residential blocks toward Chinatown, the autumn rain only intensified. Watching the droplets hit the glass pane of the window, Cullen was indeed glad he had enough foresight to have brought an umbrella.

As though he had read Cullen's mind, Tharin tentatively stated, "I don't have an umbrella."

This was an easy problem to solve. Cullen bumped his right shoulder against the young man and beamed. "We can share mine." Making lemonade out of proverbial lemons and whatnot.

Tharin quirked his eyebrows. "Um, aren't people going to stare?"

"Let them stare. We're together."

"You're gonna be obnoxious about it, aren't you?" The young man crossed his arms and smirked.

Putting his right arm around Tharin, Cullen let his eyes crinkle as he declared, "Yup. I'm definitely gonna be that obnoxious guy." Tharin gave him a sidelong glance, but there was no irritation.

They disembarked the bus at the edge of Chinatown in front of a large hospital building. People, especially the older demographics, stared at two large white men holding an umbrella together under the rain, but Cullen did not mind. In fact, he felt like shouting to the world that they were dating, that they were together. It was an exhilarating feeling that refused to subside.

After walking by a Chinese temple dedicated to Guan Yu, a general-turned-deity – Cullen had looked it up in advance –, the two turned left and went into a narrow street. Its width was wide enough for only one car. The temple side of it was lined with green bamboos.

Walking along the road for two blocks, they came upon an even narrower alley. With a reassuring grin, Cullen guided Tharin into it.

The young man's visage was dimmed by wariness. As if to break the tension within himself, he cracked a joke, "Is this where you rob and murder me?"

Cullen snapped his fingers. "Damn! How d'you figure out my diabolical plan? Now I don't know what to do."

Tharin rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips inched upward. Cullen loved making Tharin smile, and his heart fluttered.

The two-story brick and concrete buildings on either side of the alley had a bunch of neon signs and Christmas tree lights dangling from their walls, but Cullen stopped just under a rectangular sign that read "Café Maxim." Underneath the name of the restaurant written in crimson was an English description, "Hong Kong 1980s Nostalgic Cuisine."

"We are here," Cullen extended his free hand heavenward and declared proudly.

He, of course, had extensively checked out this place beforehand. As expected, the place had all the accoutrements of a typical Chinese restaurant. Red lanterns with golden tassels hung from the neon blue awning and the top of the restaurant had a narrow roof that was tiled. All the pillars were painted red, and there were pictures of restaurant specialties plastered all over the glass wall.

On the porch were two large plastic tables with steel stools surrounding them. On each side of them were two pots of rather common parlor palm. Still, Café Maxim was an adorable little place.

Despite the rain, the temperature was adequate for outside dining. In fact, the autumn rain seemed to add to the atmosphere. There was a man in glasses and a woman with a cute ponytail sitting at one of the porch tables, quietly conversing in Japanese while they shared what looked like sweet and sour pork and a platter of egg fried rice.

The delicious smell reminded Cullen that it was slightly past his usual lunch hour and that he was hungry. But more importantly, the people at the table seemed to be together. He looked at the couple and could not stop himself from smiling like a fool.

The inside walls were smartly decorated. There were framed pictures of Hong Kong and Hongkongese flags on the wall. It was a tiny space, and it did feel a little bit claustrophobic with the clutter. Yet, the restaurant seemed to be functioning well. There was another couple sharing a lunch.

A middle-aged man with thinning hair, probably the owner, greeted them in English and directed them to a table on the far corner. The man beamed as he handed them the menu.

This was Cullen's first time getting dim sum. But he had done in-depth research on Cantonese cuisine beforehand and knew how to navigate the menu. He had even come equipped with pictures of items he would order saved on his phone, which turned out to be unnecessary. The menu had English translations as well as Japanese names for dishes served.

Not that the translations were particularly helpful. Some of them were transliterations and some of them were just a listing of ingredients. Cullen eventually gave in. He opened the photo gallery on his phone and looked through the pictures with explanations he had prepared. He would have to rely on them to order properly.

Suddenly, Cullen realized his oversight. Nearly every dish in this restaurant had shrimp in it. How could he be so blasé? He asked hurriedly with a shard of anxiety poking at his side, "Are you allergic to shellfish?"

It was evident the young man had been staring at Cullen perusing the menu intensely. With his cobalt irises focused on Cullen, he answered relaxedly, "No. Why?"

"I was worried for a second. I think practically everything here has shrimp in some form."

"Nope, it's all good. I love shrimp."

Cullen emitted a discreet exhale. "Great. Here's my suggestion. We each get a bowl of shrimp wonton noodle soup, and then get two dim sum dishes to share? The choice is yours though."

A soft smile floated on Tharin's face, accentuating his dimples. Just like Cullen had done at the restaurant near Enoshima, Tharin smoothly weaved their fingers together on the table. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I…" Some dismal, anxious part of Cullen wanted to look around and check for other people's reactions, but he managed to suppress it. Instead, he focused his gaze on the bright blue eyes. "I wanted to make this day perfect for you, even if I don't speak Japanese."

Feeling unduly serious, Cullen squeezed the other man's hand and frowned. "Plus, I felt bad about dragging you to a book signing that you aren't interested in. You should at least pick whatever you want for lunch."

Tharin sniffed and shook his head. "Cul, I want to go. I want to learn what you find interesting. Besides, I'm an adult. You can't drag me to anywhere I don't want to go to."

Cullen could not stop an apologetic grin from seeping through. "Still, I… I'm sorry." He knew that part of him was apologizing again for that night at Shimbashi Station.

The young man breathed, "No more apologies. I won't allow it." His face shone with unbridled affection, and Cullen knew he had been vanquished.

They ended up ordering the four dishes as Cullen had suggested: two bowls of wonton noodle soup, an order of pork and shrimp shumai, and an order of deep-fried taro puffs.

They were all excellent. The soup was made from chicken stock and with a little bit of chili oil infused in it, it was just rich enough. The taro puffs broke apart with a merry crunch as he bit into it, and the shumai were flavorful with two different kinds of meat and shiitake.

Yet, Cullen could not have cared less what type of food they got as long as Tharin was here with him. It did seem excessive, this silent but unstoppable outpouring of feelings for Tharin, for the relationship. After all, everyone and everything seemed to remind him of the young man today. But it was as though the dam had been burst open, and all these feelings he had been consciously disregarding for the past month and a half were sweeping away his reason.

As Cullen watched Tharin expertly lift the last shumai with chopsticks and dip it in the soy sauce, he wondered if he could somehow preserve for perpetuity the emotions he felt whenever he spent time with the young man.

He had arrived at a simple truth. It was that he was neither willing nor able to deny that Tharin had become an integral part of his life already.

After lunch, which Cullen insisted that he pay, they took a leisurely walk around the enclave. When they arrived at the front archway of Chinatown, they asked a passerby to take a picture of themselves at Cullen's behest. They both wondered how it never occurred to them to take a picture of themselves in any of the places they'd been to, but Cullen wanted to start preserving memories.

Once they boarded the Minatomirai Line to head back to Yokohama Station, Cullen talked about nothing but Varric Tethras. He could not hide his enthusiasm.

"So, the genius of The Battle for the Greener Pasture is that he managed to actually befriend four interviewees and informants. He then tracked all of them down ten years later and conducted interviews all over again for the new edition."

Tharin did not seem impressed. "I hope the guy got permissions from his subjects. From what you've told me, there's some really personal stuff in there. Stuff that can get them killed."

Cullen wasn't sure, but he was not about to reveal that and tarnish Tethras's image in Tharin's mind. "I'm sure he did."

Feeling a bit vulnerable, Cullen sheepishly continued, "Anyway, my favorite quote from the book is when he describes an Arab refugee mother debating whether to leave Kurdistan for Jordan. 'Thus was Aliya, a woman who all of a sudden found herself blessed with much to lose, peering into tomorrow as something dark and unknowable stared back.'" He hoped that the fact that he memorized the line impressed Tharin at least a little.

But it was not to be. Tharin instead snorted. "That's hacky! He directly copied the line from Nietzsche."

"Is it the exact same quote?"

Looking suddenly scarlet, Tharin scratched his bestubbled cheek. "Well, no, I don't think… But still, it's very similar to what Nietzsche wrote."

Silence reigned between the two men. Cullen wasn't sure where to direct the conversation. That's when Tharin seemed to venture cautiously, "You know he's known for embellishing his interviews. I don't know if he can call himself a reporter and a nonfiction writer at this point."

Cullen harrumphed and crossed his arms. "Nonsense. Every story can be embellished… within reason."

"Hey, you can't bend the truth to suit your needs. That's just wrong."

It was difficult to respond to such assertion. It was not as though Cullen supported willful dishonesty in any form. He racked his brain for a logically sound counterargument, but none came. He soughed and held his hands up. "Yeah… Okay, you're right."

Cullen watched Tharin stare off into the space with an indiscernible expression. He asked once again to confirm, "Do you… want to head home? Forcing you to come with me is the last thing I want to do…"

It was apparently Tharin's turn to sigh. The young man discreetly squeezed his thigh. "Cul, I'm so sorry. I know how much you care about this author. I shouldn't have been so judgmental and confrontational."

Feeling relieved, Cullen took a deep breath. "No, no. It's all good. I love talking to you about stuff I'm interested about, and debating is a form of talking, right?"

"Forgive me?" The young man looked up with a notch on his brow, which Cullen wanted to wipe away.

So, he tried his hand at humor. "There's nothing to forgive. We're good, Mr. Polemic," said Cullen as he waved a finger gun at the young man.

Tharin made an exasperated noise, "…So that's how you punish me." But there was a smile at the end, Cullen was sure.

A suppressed laughter rang in Cullen's throat. It was too bad they couldn't kiss. There were a few Japanese passengers swiping quick glances at them.

When they arrived in Yokohama Station, they headed next door to a large department store that housed Kainokuniya on the seventh floor. It was 1435 by the time they arrived.

The bookstore was smaller than Cullen had expected. The crowd, however, was larger than he had expected. He had no idea Varric Tethras had this kind of pull here. The author really could claim that he was, in fact, big in Japan.

Tethras was a little person. He was sitting in the lobby at a huge table laden with copies of his new book. They overwhelmed the table, not allowing much movement for the writer.

Of course, the long line of dedicated admirers waiting to greet the author made the crowding that much more acute. Mostly Japanese with a handful of foreigners thrown in here and there, there must have been at least thirty people huddling around the table. Cullen and Tharin immediately queued.

Cullen thought about what he would say, about what he would do when he finally met Varric Tethras, the great scribe. Start out with a handshake? No, that could be construed as too forward. Maybe a "How are you?" No, that seemed… lame. He decided to be confident and just say hi, followed by a smooth motion to hand the author his book.

Yet when it was his turn to meet the author after the interminable wait, Cullen's plan just went out the window. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Cullen stood still, frozen in place with the book in his hands.

"Say something, Cul," nudged Tharin.

"Please sign this!" Instead of a greeting, Cullen shoved the book in Tethras's face. He could feel his cheeks flush from embarrassment.

Varric Tethras chortled. He jocularly said, "I hope this isn't so you can forge my signature on credit card applications."

With his heart thumping in his throat, Cullen clasped his hands together and declared way too loudly, "O-of course not!"

Tharin patted Cullen's shoulder and intervened with an explanation, "…He's a big fan, Mr. Tethras."

As Tethras looked through the book to find an empty page, Tharin evidently couldn't help but throw a sardonic comment at Tethras. "I think you'd be a great fiction writer." If Cullen were not too starstruck at the moment, he would have reprimanded him.

After signing the title page, which coincidentally was the only page Cullen had neglected to take notes on, Tethras grinned and whispered surreptitiously, "You might like Mr. Kirk Walras then, kid. If you're into awesome high fantasy stuff."

"Who might that be? A friend of yours?"

Tethras smiled enigmatically and impassively stated, "You'll have to find out for yourself."

As Tethras craned his neck to take a gander at the next person in line, Tharin blocked the view and leaned forward on the table. He said quite severely, "I hope all your friends are still doing okay in Iraq, sir."

A ghost of a smirk flitted across the writer's face. He was still his good-humored self as he answered, "Yep. I'm still in contact with all of them, and everything is hunky-dory. Well, as hunky-dory as things can be in the Middle East right now, I guess."

Tethras added with a little quirk on his mouth that seemed to indicate either hidden ire or overt amusement at the young man's naïveté, "Hey, kid, I'm no idiot. I know how things work in Iraq better than you do. Trust me when I say I've taken all the precautions necessary to protect my friends."

Cullen felt like he was going to lose his mind watching the terse exchange between Tharin and Varric Tethras. But he found Tharin's audaciousness admirable. If only he could be bolder and not freeze up in front of his favorite author…

As Cullen calmed himself down with steady breaths, he made a note to himself to remember the name Kirk Walras so he could check his books out.

It was 1510 when the two left Varric Tethras's book signing.

After the two exited the bookstore and Cullen managed to put the image of Tharin sparring with the writer out of his brain, he checked off one more item on his scheduling app and felt a quiet satisfaction. In fact, he was wrapped up with the last item – take the Keikyu Main Line and then a cab to return to the base – that he did not notice Tharin fidgeting beside him as they walked across a crowded department store.

When they crossed the walkway over into Yokohama Station, the young man tugged at Cullen's rolled-up sleeve. Cullen halted his steps and turned to look at the other man, who seemed rather determined.

Uh oh. The look was inspiring a nameless trepidation in Cullen. Had he done something wrong? Did he manage to hurt the young man again?

But he was definitely not ready for what came out of Tharin's mouth the next moment. "Come home with me."

"Sorry, what?"

"You have a lot of time before you have to be back at the base, and Shin-Kawasaki's a stop away. Come home with me. Please."

Cullen understood what this meant and wordlessly nodded. He felt his cheeks bloom with incarnadine spots. Tharin smiled the smile that could control Cullen's every movement, dictate every decision.

The two men were silent the entire time they were on transit. No straying from the set path, they did not stop by the neighborhood convenience store or idly talk about going to Kumi for early dinner. An air of intensity seemed to have enfolded them. They just kept going forward toward the champagne-pink apartment buildings.

The building entrance. The elevator. The third floor. Tharin's hands were quivering, Cullen was sure. The young man fumbled and dropped the keys as he tried to open the front door. Cullen bent down and picked them up swiftly. He inserted the apartment key in the lock and turned. Tharin's place bared its inside without much trouble.

After Cullen took off only one of his boots, Tharin turned and embraced him so hard that it seemed to push all the air out of his lungs. Cullen returned the embrace with just as much force.

Breathing in Cullen deeply, Tharin susurrated, "Fuck, I… missed you."

With his mouth purposely close to Tharin's sensitive right ear and his nose taking in the young man's citrusy scent as well, Cullen whispered back, "Thar, you have no idea how much I missed you…" Tharin shivered every time his exhale hit the earlobe.

Cullen knew he was fully aroused when he felt a hand over the hardness. With his hand playfully rubbing the front of Cullen's jeans, Tharin grinned wickedly. "I think I have some idea."

Lifting his hands to stroke Tharin's scruffy cheeks lovingly, Cullen somberly, but tenderly protested, "You know it's not just that I missed."

With his grin softening, Tharin nodded. "I know."

"Come on." Using his left sole to take the other boot off and haphazardly dropping it on the tiled entrance, Cullen pulled Tharin toward the bed. "I want to cuddle."

Suddenly looking uncharacteristically reticent, Tharin hesitated. As Cullen sat upon the bed and looked up, the young man asked warily, "Can I… be the little spoon?"

Cullen had no intention of ridiculing or deriding this sincere request. His heart was filled with affection that threatened to spill over. He let his eyes crinkle as he said, "If that's what you want, of course."

With a low hum of satisfaction, Tharin sat down on the bed next to Cullen and straddled his legs on top of the other man's lap. He stretched his arms across Cullen's torso and joined his hands by his right bicep.

The position was uncomfortable to say the least, with much of the young man's weight hanging from Cullen's side, and the men collapsed into a heap almost immediately. Breathless, they both giggled before enfolding their lips in a kiss that they had been waiting the whole day for.

It was a renewal, a tangible symbol of recovery and revitalization for Cullen. As they kissed, Cullen tasted the summer days that were already becoming a distant memory. The smell of breaking surf and the sun. The sound of slow trains and compact cars driving by as they frolicked in the waves. Even if he were to lose all his past memories of Japan, he would never relinquish this.

The remembrance of the unexpected first kiss amalgamated with the present and formed an antidote to the lingering remnants of listlessness and suppressed emotions he had been suffering for over a month. Tharin came back. He allowed Cullen back. Unmitigated joy filled the entirety of Cullen.

After they broke from the kiss, Tharin sighed in contentment and turned around. They huddled tightly and Cullen started to kiss the back of the young man's neck. At this hour, the smell of shampoo was giving way to the young man's natural musk, and Cullen felt comforted.

But the physical arousal was persistent. He could feel the front of his briefs strain and become wet.

The young man called out without turning, "Cul?"

"Mmm?"

"You're still hard, aren't you?"

Unsure about what to do and attempting to force his stubborn cock to stand down, Cullen meekly apologized, "Yeah… Sorry."

It was clear Tharin was stifling his laughter. "You don't have to apologize." He then began to grind his backside against Cullen, eliciting an unanticipated pleasure in the man's pelvis.

Cullen insisted, "You don't have to… if you don't want."

"You know I want to. I haven't seen you in almost two months." With that, the young man turned his large frame around. The intense eyes seemed to bore into Cullen's soul.

Tharin reached out and began to undo the belt on Cullen's jeans.

Cullen suddenly remembered. He had not anticipated this development and consequently did not come prepared for sex. With his nerves acting up now, he extended his right hand and laid it on top of the other man's hands to halt their movement. "Wait."

Tharin asked with a clear concern in his voice, "What's wrong?"

"Uh… I gotta warn you… I'm not wearing fancy underwear."

"So?"

His cheeks were aflame, Cullen could feel them. "It's the military briefs… They aren't exactly… um, attractive."

Tharin chortled with his brows raised. "I told you. You're sexy in anything you wear." The young man began to unzip the jeans. Cullen was sure he was pushing his hand in deliberately, attempting to maximize the contact and thus enhance the pleasure. "Besides, why do you think I've jerked off to your profile pic? I've been dying to see you in an actual uniform. And military underwear counts, right?"

It was Cullen's turn to chuckle. "Sure."

As Tharin teased Cullen through his well-worn briefs, he began, "Cul?"

"Yeah?"

Tharin's expression was extraordinarily earnest, as though he were solemnly proclaiming an indisputable truth. "Don't listen to other people. You're handsome and interesting. Period."

A volley hit Cullen's heart at that moment. The back of his nose tingled. "Thar… I…"

Tharin pecked Cullen's forehead. With his left hand now caressing the side of Cullen's emotional face, Tharin asked not at all seriously, "Did I mention how much I missed you?"

Cullen crinkled his eyes as the soft autumnal sun hit both of them. "Maybe once or twice."

After the two men pleasured each other, Cullen got up and off the bed to grab his shabby briefs. As he put them on, the young man asked, "Will you grab some paper towels?"

Without turning, he padded to the kitchenette and pulled a few squares of paper towel out of the dispenser. He handed them to Tharin, who thanked him as he wiped his left hand clean. The young man then reached for his underwear as well, putting them on with some trouble while lying supine.

In a fluid motion, Cullen settled down next to Tharin. He then pulled the young man into his bosom and they cuddled once again, this time facing each other.

"Cul?"

"Yeah, Thar?" responded Cullen languorously.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Boyfriend. The word provoked within his heart a peculiar pang that he had not anticipated. He knew this was a distinct possibility after their make-up, but he was nevertheless unprepared for it.

He redirected his gaze at Tharin to find the young man squirm. "I know it's presumptuous of me, but I… I'd love it if you would be… my boyfriend."

Heavy thuds reverberated throughout his body from his toes to his fingertips. The part that hated himself, the part that was most unwelcome tried to cajole him not to say yes. To reject and to run away, before he was truly branded as queer. Now that he was aware of its existence, it made its presence known that much clearer.

But Cullen was already tired of it. He was still afraid, but he recognized that he needed to be brave for his own sake. He fervently desired for this relationship to evolve into something more, to be claimed as Tharin's significant other. To belong with this man who forgave him so easily and who would support him through all of life's small and big obstacles.

To break the impasse imposed by the less savory facet of his person. To take a step forward.

When Cullen finally landed on a decision, he knew he had taken too long to give an answer. The young man's face was overcast, rain just a few seconds away. Cullen had to fix it and soon.

He once again kissed Tharin's forehead. Another whiff of the young man's scent flooded his senses, and he calmed down. He replied, "Yeah… Yes, of course. That's a yes." The corners of his lips kept climbing upward. He let them. "I'll be your boyfriend, Thar. If you'll be mine."

The brilliant smile Cullen adored so much returned to Tharin's visage. The young man then closed his eyes and burrowed into the other man's chest like a puppy.

"You make me happy," whispered Tharin.

It was better than any prize, any award Cullen could have won. He tightened the embrace and whispered back, "You make me happy too."

END NOTE

Well, I hope your teeth are all rotten from the sweet stuff. Mine sure are.

Next up, Cullen's little secret and his family.