Scarlet/Indigo finished 7-25-05

(--just got tired of seeing Jin/Mugen sex scenes --yeah, even I--and wanted to do something showing them in a situation of concern and affection. No episode spoilers, I think. Pure shounen-ai, no sex, no nudity, no yaoi as I understand the term. Champloo romantics, dig in. )

Mugen never had gotten used to sleeping under a roof, and tonight he was especially restless for some reason. The room at the inn seemed way too small for three people, even with one of them missing. He tuned out Fuu's grumbling--she was annoyed that Jin hadn't given any warning of vanishing for the night--but still couldn't relax, paced the mat for awhile, and gave up. Some nights you just aren't supposed to sleep.

The room had a tiny railed porch of its own, not even long enough to stretch out on, a single step down from the outside walkway. He sacked out anyway and propped his long legs on the railing by the step, gazed off into the cool night sky. Fuu's little snore came faintly from the other side of the paper window. It was finally quiet enough for him to stop chasing things in his head, and he wondered what the hell was wrong here. Had he picked up her irritation with Jin? Was there some badness on the way that wasn't quite close enough for him to smell it yet, just enough to ripple the water?

--oh, he should quit bullshitting himself; he knew what it was. The past three days. That long walk through the forest…

They'd taken a detour off the Tokaido Road, following a rumor Fuu had heard that might have been a sighting of her samurai, and cut straight through the woods along an old-single file path. But they didn't see (or smell) Fuu's quarry; hell, they didn't see anyone. Not a soul for three days. Once a herd of sika deer passed them by, running fast, but no more. Even in the day it was shadowy and spooky quiet and at night it was doubly so. Fuu had tried not to let on, but she was more than a bit jittery, and at night had quietly edged her little huddle of kimono and single blanket up to sleep close behind him or Jin.

Which had made it three times worse, because his problem wasn't the silence. It was that Fuu was the only female he'd seen in half a week, and he couldn't touch her. (Not that they had ever said so, exactly. He just knew it, and she knew he knew it.) Usually, when villages weren't so far between, he could ditch the family for a few hours and barter some girl, someplace, into lying down with him. The last one had agreed to go if he'd kill a big snake that was hanging around the house and making her scared to go out; the one before her had been mad at her boyfriend and done it for pure spite. Wasn't complicated. Usually worked just fine, and these two let him go with no more than a roll of the eye. But along this damn deserted path there'd been nothing and no one…just Fuu, who was off limits…

And Jin.

..ohh, brother...

Admit it, kid, there's your problem.

Yeah, he admitted it. And he was actually a little relieved Jin had vanished this evening, because …

...well, he had started to look good to Mugen, too.

No, not just look. Smell good. Sound good. After two days on the silent path, getting edgy and horny and debating whether to just go take himself behind a tree somewhere, he had started to notice something he never had before: why other guys looked at Jin. Why he fended off so many offers from strangers, doing it so quietly and finally that you might not even notice if you weren't watching. If you weren't already annoyed by others messing with the one whose death you owned.

It was something he gave off, like a fragrance, or a sound you sensed more than heard. It was a combination of the way he looked, both dangerous and fragile, too cool and controlled to be vulnerable but so thin, fine bones, china pale…and that downcast gaze, that unnerving way he had of submitting, withdrawing, there but not-there…to a certain type of man, he'd observed, this was catnip. Usually samurai, confident older guys, knowing the system as well as Jin did. It pissed Mugen off a bit, frankly: both that by custom, nanshoku, the ways of bushido, a handsome boy was there for men's pleasure first and his own life second; and that Jin--of all people--could ever accept that or consent to it.

But he had never smelled it, sensed it himself before this week. He'd caught his mind wandering over there more than once, wondering things he'd never wondered, watching without realizing it the way the silver-black hair spilled off the bare nape of his neck…and he was shook. If he, whose intimate interest in Jin was zero, could get the edge of this vibe and like it, how was it for those men who always glanced up when the ronin padded silently into sight? Whew. No wonder he got offers.

And Mugen was no-way sure Jin turned down all those offers, since, well, he wasn't back yet.

So, why was that bugging him? The guy had as much right to go get laid as Mugen did, neh? And speaking of that, since they were now back among humankind, why wasn't Mugen out taking care of that detail, instead of lying here wondering where Jin was?

Where he was. And how he chose the ones he gave in to.

Which was exactly none of Mugen's goddamn business.

But he couldn't shake it. How did Jin choose? Kami-na, there were enough shady babes out there who'd poison you and worse under guise of a night's fun; were there guys like that? If Jin's sense of danger fell second to his, ehh-you-know, as badly as Mugen's did at times like that, he could be risking his neck big time. Of course, guys were also more likely to be armed, but there he had no worries; Jin could handle that kind of threat in his sleep, maybe literally. But if he did get distracted that way--

strange as it was to even imagine Jin in that mood in the first place--

--Unjami-sama, what was the matter with him? Why-the-fuck-ever did he care?

He looked off into the silent, indigo-blue sky.

He just did. Did care. No getting around it. He shoved aside the weird shiver of having ever read Jin's soundless signal (damn, why wouldn't that go away?) ; what was gnawing him was the thought of Jin getting killed by some stranger in some pointless entanglement, which filled him with a knotted-up anger he couldn't describe. Did the guy not respect their promise to each other? Was the fact that his death was already stamped and sealed with Mugen's name not important to him? Did he not realize that he was just plain not replaceable, that Mugen had walked the roads of Japan fighting all comers for months and never met anyone remotely like this one, his perfect opposite, his rival by fate and destiny? This warrior no one else could even deserve to fight? Chea, like I'd promise the right to kill me to just anyone.

To imagine losing him to some goon who didn't understand, who didn't have the right to move between them, who hadn't had the pure and fiery joy of meeting him blade to blade…

..he was getting way too messed up about this. Give it a rest, already. He'll come catfooting in here by dawn and never say anything about it, you know it, and that'll be that. Get some sleep.

And he'd just started to doze when he heard the soft pad of straw sandals on the stairs.

He recrossed his blue-banded ankles on the rail, knowing the small motion would catch Jin's eye and tell him Mugen was awake. Saw the keen eyes flick in his direction and register the movement as he came along the walkway, wasn't surprised that he walked on without pause.

He waved. "Hoi."

"Good night." Jin did not even turn his head. He looked worn and tired; the weary, guarded hunch of his shoulders said he wasn't likely to stop and talk.

"Ought've told Fuu you were going out."

'I'll talk to her tomorrow." He still hadn't paused, was about to pass into the room--

"Dammit, look at me."

Jin stopped, deliberately turned his head, fixed Mugen with that cool level gaze. "There. Enough?"

"All right, all right. You look OK, I guess." Mugen turned his head away.

He was sure Jin would walk on then, but he didn't.

"You stayed awake all night just for that?"

"…couldn't sleep." Not sure whether to admit it, looked tentatively back at him. "I had a bad feeling."

"Because I wasn't here?" There was no reading Jin's tone, or his face.

"Well…yeah."

The grey eyes sharpened "I can't believe that would matter to you."

"Believe what y'like. I felt bad." Mugen scratched a calloused foot on the wooden rail, trying to sound less defensive. "I d'know, I just thought..something was wrong. Maybe you made a bad choice, or something."

Jin's eyes widened, he plainly couldn't decide whether to laugh at Mugen or slap him. The calm voice dropped ten degrees. "That is none of your business."

"I know." Mugen didn't look at him. "But I can't help it."

There must have been something in his voice, because if Jin was ever going to sweep off in a cold wave of black and blue he'd've done it right then…

"You can't help what, exactly?" Partly cool curiosity, partly…something…he wanted to know…

Oh, dammit….

He met Jin's eyes, half-defiantly. "Thinking about our deal. Thinking how easy we could break it by fighting the wrong guy. Someone who didn't deserve it."

Jin half relaxed. "I wasn't out having a duel tonight, if that's what you thought."

"Didn't think so. Man, I'm not that dense. You go off by yourself for the same reason I do. Not for the same stuff I do, maybe, but same what-for."

One eyebrow raised. "That was blunt."

"Yeah, I'm good at that."

"So…" Jin turned away from the door, walked over to sit on the step down to the little porch--

"--what is this about?"

Those eyes, color of the sea before dawn, those falcon eyes nothing could hide from, looking straight into him now…

Deep breath. "I know…I know you draw guys' attention. I know it's easy to get distracted when you're with somebody, and I just…I hope..that you're careful. I guess." (Gods, he'd made a mess of that...)

Furrow between the fine black brows. "Mugen, I'm very tired. Be clear. Careful of what?"

Sigh. "Of not getting killed. Not with somebody else."

Jin closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose with two long, straight fingers.

"Either you had some premonition that I'd been tricked into bed by an assassin, or you honestly can't hear yourself sounding like a jealous boyfriend. And we're both too tired to know which."

--was it possible, Jin wearily wondered, that Mugen was jealous? He did seem to have been looking at Jin more often of late, and not with the usual wary-to-mischievous expression. Was it just the isolation? Was there a point at which Mugen didn't care what he had hold of, so long as it acquiesced to be mauled? He'd never thought of that…

…not that the pirate boy would ever understand what Jin needed, what he did this for…

He had been an older man, a samurai, with calm eyes and a quiet, deep voice. He'd approached Jin courteously, observing the proper formalities: offered him sake', noted the beauty of the moonrise. Would Jin like to walk with him by the river? The moon's light through the willows would be even fairer on the face of one so handsome…

It was flattery, of course, but it eased his heart to hear it; words from the world he had lost, spoken in a way they both understood, as he'd spoken them himself to others. He had lived his whole life in that world, but now it seemed an ocean apart, its ways and rules unknown on this endless road.

And the man's voice was so soothing…how weary he was of always being on guard, always alone among strangers.

He had only, ever, felt safe when close to a man. Safety and peace: he had felt them when held by his father, so long ago; he had felt them in the arms of his first lover, the wise and gentle sensei Niwa Juunosuke. His heart had been so troubled when he arrived at Niwa-dono's dojo, but he remembered sleeping in his embrace, his soul at peace, the room so calm and still that the candle flames never flickered.

He wanted to feel safe for a while. That was all. He wanted to sleep and dream quiet dreams while someone else watched the night. And if the price of a night's peace was accepting the touch of a stranger, surely, there were far worse prices than that.

And the man had seemed like the right kind of stranger, at first…

"Aah, I do not." Mugen sounded more amused than shocked. Then serious again, though the tone stayed amused. "Guess he wasn't an assassin, then."

"No." No bloodshed. Only bruises he hoped Mugen couldn't see, and the self-anger of letting his longing overrule his better judgment. All of which would fade. But how could he have been so wrong? …

"And I'd rather you not make a point of worrying about that. I don't belong to you."

"But you do."

So suddenly intense that Jin startled, stared at him, shaken wide-awake.

"You don't get it. You're mine. Your death's mine. It's just you and me, you know that, no one else is near good enough. Can't stand the thought of some clown who doesn't get that having a shot at you." Mugen rose up on his elbows, leaned forward, dark eyes glowing with a deep, focused light. "You have to think before you just go off with someone. You aren't just yours anymore. You've got me to think of now."

He could feel the flat coldness of his voice, forcing out his irritation with Mugen, his anger at himself.

"I thought you knew what we were talking about. When I want…to be with a man, it's not to fight him."

" 'Course, I know that."

"Then since you don't want me yourself, what would you have me do?" (Couldn't check the sharp tone now, tired and frustrated, what on earth was the idiot getting at?) "Are you offering me something in exchange?"

...damn, he'd fouled this up badly; Jin was tired and sore and mad at him now, and there was no more time to convince him, or think of a better line. Mugen squared his shoulders and went for broke.

"..me. A friend. Someone who knows the shit you've been through. Someone…" deep breath. "Someone who'd stay with you all night and ask for nothing, nothin' at all, just to be there."

"You?" The sea-grey eyes held his tightly. "You'd do that?"

"I would." He meant every letter of it. "I would, for you."

It wasn't sex. It didn't mean sex. It meant…that no one had ever been his before. It meant something far too important to lose to chance, greedily cherished, way too good to share. Perfect opposite, other half, shadow soul. Mine no matter what. Mine till we die. Mine.

He didn't have to get laid to just not be alone.

Jin was staring at him as if he'd never seen him before He'd not remotely expected that.

What if Mugen..if Mugen could…

If he could trust anyone with his life, it was this one; his pride wanted a true duel so badly that he'd never think of stabbing Jin in his sleep. And…somehow he'd known, and he'd waited here, all night…

The deep brown eyes were steady, holding his face, willing him to understand. Asking to be trusted.

All he longed for was someone to sleep with. Beside. Someone else to watch the night for awhile.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against Mugen's knee. He felt Mugen's touch, warm fingers carefully examining the point where his neck met his shoulder, the dark bruises that must show there.

Very, very quietly, not judging. "Knew there was something wrong."

"A bad choice, yes." He didn't move.

"Not what you wanted?"

"No."

The hand stayed in place, steadying Jin as Mugen shifted his legs off the railing, sat up, slid closer to him. Awkwardly gentle, one arm went around his shoulders, one folded around his neck, drawing his head to Mugen's shoulder. He didn't resist, exhausted, a sigh of deep relief escaping him. A strong hand cradled the back of his head, smoothed the long hair down his spine.

He'd never been this close to Mugen. Spare, wiry bundle; he smelled of night sky and woodsmoke, salt of sweat and sea air, warm and alive. Jin leaned into him. The cold clenched fist in his chest loosened its grip, just a little.

"I don't want you that way. I'm not asking that." He felt more than heard the words, his head against Mugen's lean chest, bathed in the rhythm of his steady breath. Felt the slats of upper ribs against his cheek as the embrace tightened around him. "Just..stay with me. Don't go anywhere. OK?"

"All right."

So few words to say so much. He exhaled slowly. Warmth started to seep into his skin; the cold clench slowly opened and was gone. He had no reason to damn himself now. His eyes were starting to close. He could hardly be peace, this rascal, but he was a sword no threat could pass, a bonfire of warmth and light. Surely, he was safe here…with his closest enemy…

"…that was all I wanted…"

"Then you got it." He would sit there all night; he would not move till morning. The armful of lean muscle and silk felt impossibly slight and fragile. So fierce and deadly, so delicate; a war-falcon with a falcon's stare, with dagger talons, dark feathers and fine, hollow bones…

It was nuts, insane, but Mugen wanted to protect him; right then he swore in his heart he would keep Jin safe until the moment he stabbed him through.

He could smell sandalwood smoke in the sleek black hair, so different from his. Closed his eyes, slowly stroked the long silk spine, feeling the knots ease out of it one by one.

"After all, I can't let anything happen to you."

So long a pause that he thought Jin had fallen asleep; then a very soft chuckle.

"Because you have to kill me yourself."

(Because you love me, and you don't even realize it.)

"You know I do."

"…I know."