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"Are you alright?"
He watches her with a quizzical expression. Casca seems...distracted. He gets the feeling that whatever fret that has been plaguing her thoughts lately must be serious. Besides, Casca rarely lets anything sidetrack her from her work.
"Fine," comes the terse reply.
He frowns. It most definitely must be something serious if she feels obligated to keep it from him. Perhaps it has something to do with Guts or...
"We'll be leaving soon, make sure you get your men ready. Getting down to Vritanis will take at least a fortnight's worth of travel by horse."
"Yes ma'am." He gives her a mock salute, raising his hand to his forehead.
She smiles. He likes it when she smiles.
'It's getting awful cold, we best be sure to get a head's start before winter really starts setting in."
"Yeah, we should get going as soon as possible," she agrees, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.
Neither of them say anything after that. He focuses his attention back onto the horse in front of him, brushing it's coat with gentle methodical strokes.
A beat.
"Judeau?"
"Yeah?" He looks up from his work.
"Do you think going to Vritanis is the right decision? I mean, I know we're not safe in Midland, but who's to say that things will be better in Vritanis? I've been hearing word going around that they're on the brink of war. Once we get there, what'll happen? Plus it's almost winter and Griffith is still recovering and-"
He brings his hands up, effectively bringing her short rant to a halt. She looks up at him with a worrying expression. He returns it with a reassuring smile.
"I think we should go. Staying in Midland is definitely not an option unless we want to stay in hiding forever. If we stay, we'll eventually be killed, Vritanis is our best bet. It's safer there, I'm sure of it." He gives her a resolute nod, indication of his certainty regarding her verdict.
"Besides you've never made one wrong decision in the last ten months, don't start doubting yourself now."
She smiles back at him, her shoulders drooping slightly as she lets out a sigh.
He notes that it sounds neither relieved nor reassured.
Something terrible, he fears, must have happened.
He walks shakily around the wagon. They're pitching camp here for the night. He feels it's best that he stretches his legs out for a bit while he still has the chance. There will be more than enough days to spend in the wagon once they leave for Vritanis.
He notices them before they notice him.
Her and him.
Him and her.
His arms wrapped around her waist, their lips smashed together in a desperate kiss.
He feels as if a bucket of ice has been dumped on him. He watches them in morbid fascination, praying that this has all been just one huge misunderstanding, a mistake, that she had just tripped near him and their lips had accidently collided, willing them to pull apart.
When they do not, he turns away, gripping his arms tightly to one another.
When had this happened? When had they become so close? His mind is numb and before he knows it, there is red.
When did I become so blind?
This must not be allowed to continue, he decides.
"Are you alright?"
He frowns down at Griffith who has spent the last three minutes staring sullenly down at his own pale hands.
"It's too cold."
Guts hadn't expected a reply, but nonetheless he is quick to get up, closing the opening of the tent.
"That good?" He asks.
"Yes," Griffith smiles gratefully back up at him, drawing the thick quilt closer to his own body.
"We'll be leaving soon," he comments staring around the tent for his own bedding.
"Yes for Vritanis," comes the quiet reply.
"Yeah," he smiles when his head touches the pillow. He's exhausted and more than ready for sleep to take over.
A cold hand on his stomach has him snapping his eyes wide open. The tent is dark but he can feel Griffith's soft warm breaths on the side of his neck, something that seems strangely like a kiss being planted on his jaw, and boney ribs rubbing against his side.
"You were always so warm Guts."
He stays absolutely still as those soft lips press about his face from his cheeks to his nose before finally resting on his own parted lips.
His heart begins to thump painfully in his chest, he can't think. Half of him wants to push that boney cold corpse off of him, to yell at Griffith because this is...it's...
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
It's disgusting, vile, humiliating. It's a disgrace...it...
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
...It feels so good.
He feels his own arms wrapping tenderly around the slender waist. In response, Griffith deepens the kiss, his thin hands fisting themselves into Guts' short hair and the whole thing feels so good. Griffith's lips are so soft, his body so smooth and slender in Guts' arms.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
In a spur of the moment decision, his head still filled with heat and sinful lust, he flips them over with surprising force.
A pained cry has him pulling away.
"It's nothing," Griffith is quick to respond, his breathing still heavy and his cheeks flushed a bright pink.
But the moment is lost and like an avalanche, reality comes crashing back down.
"I-I'm sorry," he says even though it had been Griffith who had started the whole damn thing. He doesn't bother waiting for a reply. With his body still hot from the kiss, he decides to leave the tent.
In his haste, Guts fails to notice the small devious smirk spreading slowly across his leader's face.
He always gets what he wants.
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