Samurai Flamenco (Blind AU) - samflam_69min: Smooth [Gotoyoshi]

[scriveyner]

Title: samflam_69min: Smooth
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Blind AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 958
Summary:

Gotou's hands were bigger than he remembered – warm, too, and surprisingly gentle. He knew it was Gotou, even without words – that tang of stale tobacco that clung to his casual clothes was a dead giveaway – although Gotou took his hand and greeted him mock-cheerfully. Masayoshi could hear the strain in his voice, the forced casualness – he put out his hand and Gotou took it, drew it to his face, let him feel to confirm his identity.

So much touch. Had Gotou ever touched him this much, before? It was strangely bitter, the emotion that burned in his throat – Masayoshi swallowed around it, responded just as mock-cheerfully, his false face trained from years of standing before a camera. He didn’t let the pain creep in, as he brushed his fingertips over the bridge of Gotou’s nose. “How was work?” Masayoshi asked lightly, as Gotou’s hands carded through his hair, finding the edge of the soft cotton bandages to change them.

“Quiet as usual,” Gotou said. “Someone brought in a lost dog, but the owner came looking for it not long after. Slipped his leash and ran after a cat, she said.”

“Ahh,” Masayoshi tilted his head slightly, to aid in unwinding the bandages. “What type of dog was it?”

“Some kind of mix,” the pads of Gotou’s fingers were just slightly rough. Masayoshi wanted him to brush back into his hair, to cup his face with those warm hands. “I’m not good with dog breeds. It was black and brown, very friendly.”

“I wish I could have seen,” Masayoshi said with a sigh, and felt Gotou’s hands hesitate, just a moment. The bandages came completely off then, and Masayoshi lifted a hand to rub at his face, but Gotou caught it.

“Don’t touch,” Gotou said softly, his face close enough that Masayoshi felt the warmth of his breath. He turned his head slightly, as he felt the cool press – so gentle – of a washcloth over one eye.

“You don’t have to do this,” Masayoshi said suddenly. “Gotou-san, you don’t have to-”

Gotou didn’t respond, but this time there was no hesitation as he softly cleaned Masayoshi’s eyes. Masayoshi bit his bottom lip, and Gotou said, “does it hurt?”

It wasn’t that it was painful, but Masayoshi couldn’t articulate the feelings that had coalesced in his chest. Whenever Gotou leaned in close – to check on him, to reassure Masayoshi that he was nearby, to clean his eyes and change his bandages – his breath got short, his heart started to hammer in his chest. He wondered what sort of expression Gotou was wearing right now, and the panic that he would never know again squeezed in his throat.

“Masayoshi?” Gotou asked, concern now in his voice. Masayoshi put his hands out, found Gotou’s face with his palms and felt Gotou go still. “I’m here, I haven’t gone anywhere,” Gotou said, and the reassurance in his voice, the worry – those were real, not the false cheer he had greeted Masayoshi with. Masayoshi brushed his fingers over the rise of Gotou’s cheeks, back into his hairline, pulled him closer still, unsure of what he wanted except that he wanted Gotou close. He wanted to feel the heat off of his skin again, and Gotou tilted his head, didn’t pull back away from Masayoshi, let him pull Gotou close.

“Hey,” Gotou’s breath was warm. “Masayoshi…”

Masayoshi wet his lips again, why were they so dry? “I need,” he started to say, but he wasn’t certain how to finish that sentence. He needed his sight back, he needed the clock turned back, he needed Gotou here, now – and he felt Gotou exhale a breath of resignation. I need you to kiss me.

Maybe Gotou had developed mind-reading powers, because he took Masayoshi’s face in both his hands, closing the distance between them, brushing his lips over Masayoshi’s almost chastely, rough and warm and bitter. He’d been smoking, Masayoshi could taste it just on that faintest touch – and he parted his lips as Gotou’s warmth receded.

He couldn’t see, but he knew Gotou was blushing. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said softly. “Another…?” He couldn’t be shy, like this – he had to ask for it, he couldn’t know if Gotou’s reaction was pity or revulsion or something he couldn’t quite hope for, not yet.

This time Gotou’s mouth was less hesitant. Masayoshi’s closed eyes burned, and he realized after a moment that tears were squeezing out. Gotou brushed his fingers over Masayoshi’s cheeks, and then the cool press of the washcloth returned, as Gotou soothed him softly. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m scared,” Masayoshi said, hand falling to Gotou’s chest, catching in the familiar material of a sweatshirt. He held tight to it as Gotou washed his face again, cool smooth washcloth eliminating the tracks of his tears.

“Me too,” Gotou responded, and Masayoshi smiled, to know that he wasn’t alone.