Samurai Flamenco - September [Gotoyoshi]
Sep. 28th, 2016 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scriveynerTitle: September
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1391
Summary:
September was a rough month. It wasn’t even a thought that Gotou had, it was simply a fact; a tidbit of knowledge that settled in his life. Whenever he flipped that calendar over from August to September there was just a moment’s pause, his eye drawn like a magnet to the date, pen already in hand to circle it. It was an effort, standing there, staring at the calendar on the wall, but after what felt like an eternity he dropped his pen lower and circled a different day. Then he took a deep breath, capped the pen, and stepped away from the wall.
It shouldn’t feel like a gut punch just to look at a day, a date, a number and yet there it was, his breath sucked back into his lungs, heartbeat deafening in his ears. He stood outside his apartment as twenty minutes became an hour and a single cigarette morphed into three.
It was the clatter of Masayoshi coming up the stairs, dragging his collapsible bicycle behind him that broke Gotou’s reverie. Masayoshi was huffing as his tawny head cleared the top of the stairs, and it was not due to exertion, his gaze snapped to Gotou’s and Gotou realized, with mild irritation, that Masayoshi was about to launch into a new rant about either smoking, smoking in a non-smoking area (a classic), or some combination of the two and he really didn’t have the patience for it today.
There was a moment of silence, and then something unusual happened. Masayoshi’s blue eyes softened and his sour expression at finding Gotou smoking right outside the apartment seemed to melt. Gotou stubbed out his current cigarette on the metal railing and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t tell me,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “Am I going to get a jump on your speech today? How does it start, ‘I know you don’t mean to be a bad influence…’”
That was enough to wipe that unsettling expression off of Masayoshi’s face entirely. “That’s not how it starts!” he said with a huff, stopping beside Gotou and placing his bicycle on the ground. “You’re making fun of me, that’s rude.”
“You’re slow,” Gotou said as he tucked his mostly-empty package of cigarettes into his pocket. “I’ve been making fun of you for well over a year now, and you’re just noticing?”
Masayoshi puffed out his cheeks when he pouted, and as cute as that could be Gotou really wasn’t in the mood for it. He shook his head in resignation, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “What’s that look for?”
Masayoshi shoved the convenience store bag into Gotou’s chest, which actually hurt a bit. “I thought I was doing something nice,” he said. “We’re eating curry for dinner tonight, no arguments!”
“Right, right,” Gotou said, rubbing his chest with one hand as he peered into the plastic bag. A fresh package of curry mix, a few cans of Gotou’s favorite beer, and the newest Jump. “Are we back on manga again?” He rescued the Jump from the damp beer cans and tucked it under his arm as he held the door open for Masayoshi. “I thought you were mad at it.”
“I am,” Masayoshi said. “But I saw you sneaking a chapter the other day from the stand, it’s only right to purchase it if you’re going to read it.” Gotou conceded the point wordlessly because he knew better than to argue, and hesitated a moment, looking at Masayoshi’s sneakers in the genkan.
“Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, and by his tone it wasn’t the first time. Gotou glanced up at him a little guilty, then heeled off his shoes in a practiced motion. “You’re acting funny, do you feel all right?”
“I’m fine, just constantly astonished by how oblivious you are,” Gotou said lightly. He pushed the copy of Jump back to Masayoshi’s chest and set the bag on the counter. “If we’re having curry again tonight you’ve gotta help chop vegetables, no sitting there watching television instead.”
“Of course!” Masayoshi agreed readily enough that Gotou would have known there wasn’t anything on television tonight, even if he hadn’t checked the schedule as he was walking home. He let out a small, amused sound when Masayoshi hesitated right in front of him, and he cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What?”
Masayoshi stepped in close, into Gotou’s personal space. Gotou sighed and smiled despite himself as Masayoshi’s hands settled on his hips. Masayoshi rested his forehead against Gotou’s; and for the first time since he’d gotten home this evening Gotou’s heart beat right. Gotou inhaled deeply, his eyes closed, and relaxed against Masayoshi.
“Better?” Masayoshi asked.
“Yeah,” Gotou said, his eyes still closed. “Thank you.” He opened his eyes to meet Masayoshi’s, and snorted a little at the look he saw there. “What are you going to ask?” he said, drawing back a little.
“Can I kiss you?” Masayoshi asked, and clearly wasn’t thinking about his action when he wet his lips.
“Of course you can,” Gotou said. “You don’t have to ask any more, idiot.” Masayoshi didn’t give him time to even process or think about much else before he kissed Gotou, and Gotou thought with some amusement that if Masayoshi had kissed like this when they’d started out, they would have definitely ended up in bed sooner than they did.
When they parted, Gotou put his hands on Masayoshi’s face, and pressed his thumbs into Masayoshi’s cheekbones. “And what did I say about still calling me 'Gotou-san’? Why are we picking that up again?”
“Aaah,” Masayoshi said. “Habit, habit, I’m sorry-” When Gotou released his face and took a step back, out of Masayoshi’s arms Masayoshi rubbed his face with one hand. “You weren’t responding,” he said finally, as Gotou turned toward the counter. Gotou acknowledged this with a tilt of his head and not much else, and he could feel Masayoshi’s eyes boring into the back of his head. “You can talk to me, you know,” he said.
Gotou ignored Masayoshi for a moment as he crouched in front of the counter, pulling out a pot. “What do you want for your birthday?” he asked instead of answering Masayoshi, setting the pot on the counter. “This place is too small to host a proper birthday party, so we’ll have to go out…”
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and Gotou smacked the palm of his hand against the counter, then looked over his shoulder at Masayoshi. He recognized that expression, Masayoshi wasn’t going to let him off easy.
“It’s nothing, okay?” he said sharply. “Leave it alone.”
“It’s not nothing,” Masayoshi said.
“Look, do you want to eat tonight? Because if you’re going to give me the third degree, I’m not cooking.” Gotou turned back toward the pot, and almost jumped when Masayoshi’s hand very delicately touched his waist again.
“Then we’ll order something out,” he said softly, standing beside Gotou. Gotou squeezed his eyes closed, they felt too-hot and he was too tired of fighting the closed-off feeling in his throat. He leaned against his husband and let out a slow, ragged sigh.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1391
Summary:
September was a rough month. It wasn’t even a thought that Gotou had, it was simply a fact; a tidbit of knowledge that settled in his life. Whenever he flipped that calendar over from August to September there was just a moment’s pause, his eye drawn like a magnet to the date, pen already in hand to circle it. It was an effort, standing there, staring at the calendar on the wall, but after what felt like an eternity he dropped his pen lower and circled a different day. Then he took a deep breath, capped the pen, and stepped away from the wall.
It shouldn’t feel like a gut punch just to look at a day, a date, a number and yet there it was, his breath sucked back into his lungs, heartbeat deafening in his ears. He stood outside his apartment as twenty minutes became an hour and a single cigarette morphed into three.
It was the clatter of Masayoshi coming up the stairs, dragging his collapsible bicycle behind him that broke Gotou’s reverie. Masayoshi was huffing as his tawny head cleared the top of the stairs, and it was not due to exertion, his gaze snapped to Gotou’s and Gotou realized, with mild irritation, that Masayoshi was about to launch into a new rant about either smoking, smoking in a non-smoking area (a classic), or some combination of the two and he really didn’t have the patience for it today.
There was a moment of silence, and then something unusual happened. Masayoshi’s blue eyes softened and his sour expression at finding Gotou smoking right outside the apartment seemed to melt. Gotou stubbed out his current cigarette on the metal railing and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t tell me,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “Am I going to get a jump on your speech today? How does it start, ‘I know you don’t mean to be a bad influence…’”
That was enough to wipe that unsettling expression off of Masayoshi’s face entirely. “That’s not how it starts!” he said with a huff, stopping beside Gotou and placing his bicycle on the ground. “You’re making fun of me, that’s rude.”
“You’re slow,” Gotou said as he tucked his mostly-empty package of cigarettes into his pocket. “I’ve been making fun of you for well over a year now, and you’re just noticing?”
Masayoshi puffed out his cheeks when he pouted, and as cute as that could be Gotou really wasn’t in the mood for it. He shook his head in resignation, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “What’s that look for?”
Masayoshi shoved the convenience store bag into Gotou’s chest, which actually hurt a bit. “I thought I was doing something nice,” he said. “We’re eating curry for dinner tonight, no arguments!”
“Right, right,” Gotou said, rubbing his chest with one hand as he peered into the plastic bag. A fresh package of curry mix, a few cans of Gotou’s favorite beer, and the newest Jump. “Are we back on manga again?” He rescued the Jump from the damp beer cans and tucked it under his arm as he held the door open for Masayoshi. “I thought you were mad at it.”
“I am,” Masayoshi said. “But I saw you sneaking a chapter the other day from the stand, it’s only right to purchase it if you’re going to read it.” Gotou conceded the point wordlessly because he knew better than to argue, and hesitated a moment, looking at Masayoshi’s sneakers in the genkan.
“Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, and by his tone it wasn’t the first time. Gotou glanced up at him a little guilty, then heeled off his shoes in a practiced motion. “You’re acting funny, do you feel all right?”
“I’m fine, just constantly astonished by how oblivious you are,” Gotou said lightly. He pushed the copy of Jump back to Masayoshi’s chest and set the bag on the counter. “If we’re having curry again tonight you’ve gotta help chop vegetables, no sitting there watching television instead.”
“Of course!” Masayoshi agreed readily enough that Gotou would have known there wasn’t anything on television tonight, even if he hadn’t checked the schedule as he was walking home. He let out a small, amused sound when Masayoshi hesitated right in front of him, and he cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What?”
Masayoshi stepped in close, into Gotou’s personal space. Gotou sighed and smiled despite himself as Masayoshi’s hands settled on his hips. Masayoshi rested his forehead against Gotou’s; and for the first time since he’d gotten home this evening Gotou’s heart beat right. Gotou inhaled deeply, his eyes closed, and relaxed against Masayoshi.
“Better?” Masayoshi asked.
“Yeah,” Gotou said, his eyes still closed. “Thank you.” He opened his eyes to meet Masayoshi’s, and snorted a little at the look he saw there. “What are you going to ask?” he said, drawing back a little.
“Can I kiss you?” Masayoshi asked, and clearly wasn’t thinking about his action when he wet his lips.
“Of course you can,” Gotou said. “You don’t have to ask any more, idiot.” Masayoshi didn’t give him time to even process or think about much else before he kissed Gotou, and Gotou thought with some amusement that if Masayoshi had kissed like this when they’d started out, they would have definitely ended up in bed sooner than they did.
When they parted, Gotou put his hands on Masayoshi’s face, and pressed his thumbs into Masayoshi’s cheekbones. “And what did I say about still calling me 'Gotou-san’? Why are we picking that up again?”
“Aaah,” Masayoshi said. “Habit, habit, I’m sorry-” When Gotou released his face and took a step back, out of Masayoshi’s arms Masayoshi rubbed his face with one hand. “You weren’t responding,” he said finally, as Gotou turned toward the counter. Gotou acknowledged this with a tilt of his head and not much else, and he could feel Masayoshi’s eyes boring into the back of his head. “You can talk to me, you know,” he said.
Gotou ignored Masayoshi for a moment as he crouched in front of the counter, pulling out a pot. “What do you want for your birthday?” he asked instead of answering Masayoshi, setting the pot on the counter. “This place is too small to host a proper birthday party, so we’ll have to go out…”
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and Gotou smacked the palm of his hand against the counter, then looked over his shoulder at Masayoshi. He recognized that expression, Masayoshi wasn’t going to let him off easy.
“It’s nothing, okay?” he said sharply. “Leave it alone.”
“It’s not nothing,” Masayoshi said.
“Look, do you want to eat tonight? Because if you’re going to give me the third degree, I’m not cooking.” Gotou turned back toward the pot, and almost jumped when Masayoshi’s hand very delicately touched his waist again.
“Then we’ll order something out,” he said softly, standing beside Gotou. Gotou squeezed his eyes closed, they felt too-hot and he was too tired of fighting the closed-off feeling in his throat. He leaned against his husband and let out a slow, ragged sigh.
