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Kazuha is not usually one for a loud party, but this is a special occasion, and besides - to please Gorou, he'd do just about anything.
Years have passed since he last set foot in Inazuma. The life of a wanderer has its perks, but he has never felt that his freedom was complete, not when home was the only place he couldn't go. It's strange, being back here, but feels natural and comfortable at the same time. The soldiers of the resistance have gone out of their way to welcome him, in any case. Even if he did feel out of place, they would have squashed that insecurity at a moment's notice.
All night, he's been sitting off to the side of the festivities nursing the same cup of wine, and every time someone passes, they salute him and thank him for being a decisive factor in their victory at Nazuchi Beach that day. He's flattered, but he reminds each soldier that they need not thank him. Their cause is as important to him as it is to them, and their general, well, he is even more important to him than that. When word of the impending conflict had traveled to him, practically on the wind, he had turned the Crux fleet around fast enough to make Beidou's head spin. She had been annoyed by his insubordination at first, but ultimately, she understood. Kazuha has spent enough time under her protection for her to understand where his heart lies.
Speaking of which - it's been a little while since he's laid eyes on Gorou. Scanning the crowd gathered around Sangonomiya Shrine, Kazuha's scarlet red eyes dilate in the low light, straining to see. He's not worried, just curious. Where could he have gone? Surely he wouldn't be in bed already, and definitely not without finding him first to wish him good night.
Kazuha's mouth puckers into a subtle pout at the possibility. He would have liked to walk him home. They haven't had a moment to themselves yet. Between the battle, the aftermath, and now this raucous affair, it's been difficult to hold Gorou's attention for more than a few minutes. The general has been pulled in a million different directions today, and yet the only thing Kazuha had wanted was for him to turn towards him, and flash him that silly, fang-tipped grin that never fails to bring color to his monochromatic world.
He's beginning to feel sorry for himself when a fawn-colored blur flies at him from the left, completely unannounced. Despite his training as a swordsman and its contribution to superior reflexes, Kazuha is wholly distracted by his own self-pity, and thus, successfully caught off-guard. The cup of wine he has been holding goes sailing into the darkness, probably lost off the cliffs around the shrine, and the samurai hits the ground with an embarrassing thud. A weight settles on top of him, and a familiar voice reaches his ears.
"Kazuha! I found you!"
"Ow... Gorou, that hurt."
"Sorry, sorry, I've just been looking everywhere~"
The general of the Watatsumi resistance kneels over him, his long, fluffy tail swishing through the air in the background and his soft little ears poking attentively out of his brown-and-white hair. Gorou is beaming like he's just come across a fortune's worth of treasure, but his turquoise eyes have an unusual, hazy look to them. As focused as he is on the boy beneath him, he still seems far away, and his words had been a little slurred just now. He hiccups quietly, and Kazuha catches a hint of red painted delicately across his cheekbones.
Amused, he smiles up at him. "My, my, how much have you had to drink?"
Gorou flushes even deeper at the accusation. "Not that much. Leemee alone."
"I don't mean to scold you. This was a big day for the resistance. You should enjoy yourself." Kazuha chuckles. "It's just not like you to tackle me."
"Sorry," Gorou apologizes again, and he flops down on top of his friend, hugging him around the neck tightly. "I'm reeeally sorry~"
"You're... ah, you're crushing me." Patting the boy on the back, he tries to signal that he needs to tap out, that this is hurting him. It goes completely unnoticed, and he wiggles uncomfortably, but stills at the next thing that comes out of Gorou's mouth.
"I missed you so much, Kazu."
What makes him pause is his complete sincerity. If there is anything that Gorou is, it is honest, and genuine, but there is a heaviness to this confession, even for him. It's like he's speaking his deepest, most heartfelt truth, something he has been holding onto for the longest time and couldn't wait another second to unload. Even as he says it, he goes lax against Kazuha's body, as if a literal burden has been lifted from the narrow shoulders that already carry the weight of an entire nation. Suddenly, Kazuha couldn't care less if the air is being squeezed from his lungs. He brings a hand up to rest on the side of Gorou's face, which is tucked into his the scarf draped over his shoulder, and whispers in his ear: "I missed you, too."
Gorou fully purrs into his neck. "I'm so glad you're home. Juss wanna be with you."
"Mmm, well, you're with me. I'm not going anywhere." As the boy starts to nuzzle into him desperately, Kazuha finally forces himself up, pushing against Gorou's body weight to get himself into a sitting position. "Hey, easy. It's okay, I'm right here."
But he seems inconsolable now, clinging to Kazuha as if he will disappear if he lets go. He can't even blame Gorou for feeling that way, seeing as they had parted on rather abrupt terms to begin with. They had gone from traveling together with the resistance, spending nights in each other's arms and sleeping under endless, starry skies, talking about forever, to nothing. Just nothing. Kazuha had fled Inazuma without the chance to tell Gorou what was happening. The general, then just an officer, had found out days later, days, and that had given him plenty of time to agonize over the very real chance that his friend - who had been becoming much more than that - was dead and gone. It had been hell.
Some alone time is long overdue. They have much to unpack, that is abundantly clear, and the fact that Gorou's emotions have been cut loose of any restraint by a heavy dose of alcohol just adds to the urgency.
"Alright, let's go, you." Kazuha prods Gorou out of his lap gently so he can stand, and then offers his hand to pull him to his feet as well. "I'm taking you home."
The general grabs his hand and wobbles upright, but he only makes it a few steps before he stumbles and almost falls flat on his face. Kazuha catches him and laughs warmly, but it only earns him an embarrassed growl in response.
"Stop laughin' at me."
"You know I don't mean it, Gorou," Kazuha hums reassuringly as he snakes an arm around his middle. "I've just never seen you so clumsy. Where's that sure-footed archer that used to dance circles around me?"
"He's off duty," Gorou grumbles, hanging onto his friend for balance. They make it a short distance more before he sways dangerously, almost taking both of them off the side of a precipice. Kazuha pulls frantically in the opposite direction and saves them from what might have been certain death. He reasons, privately, that he could have used his Vision to break their fall, but it's a little funnier to imagine dying that way. After all they've been through, for that to be how they meet their end together?
In spite of himself, he snickers quietly at the thought, and Gorou's tail puffs up in self-defense. Noticing the change in his body language immediately, Kazuha bites his tongue and redirects. "I'm just going to carry you. I don't want you to fall, puppy."
Two brown ears flick forward, standing at full attention at the use of that little pet name. Gorou hasn't heard it in years; after all, he's standing next to the only person with anywhere near the privilege of addressing him with such familiarity. He is the general of Sangonomiya Kokomi's noble resistance, fighting a civil war against the almighty Shogun. There is not another soul in all of Teyvat who would ever dream of calling him a "puppy". But when Kazuha says it, the word melts him from the inside out, like the sun over snow. The irritated frizz of his tail fur dies down, and the fluffy appendage begins to sway lazily from side to side, conveying his pleasure.
"Carry me?" he asks, his voice small.
Nodding, Kazuha stands himself in front of Gorou and beckons for him to hop on his back. "Yeah, like when you would get hurt in training, you know?"
He does know, and he remembers perfectly the way he used to almost fall asleep with his head on the samurai's shoulder on those long walks back to camp, breathing in the smell of tea and sweat from Kazuha's silver hair, feeling the secure hold of his strong arms in the bend of his knees. How the boy would patch up his wounds so attentively back in their tent, and then cuddle up with Gorou under a soft, warm blanket until they both fell asleep for the afternoon, bone-tired and battle-weary. It feels like it was a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once, but not even something as immutable as time could take those kinds of memories from him.
Carefully, Gorou grabs Kazuha's shoulders and pulls himself up. His arms circle around his upper body, crossing over his chest, and he relaxes against his back with a content sigh as Kazuha holds the rest of him, shifting a little until his weight is more balanced on his hips. "There, good," he murmurs, and he leans his head back to nuzzle at the boy fondly. "Don't let go."
"Never," the general answers with a playful nip to his nose.
The walk back to Gorou's cabin is, luckily, a short one. It's only another five minutes before Kazuha reaches the door and pushes it open with his foot, but when he goes to place Gorou on his feet, he almost drops him on the hard, wooden floor. His friend is all but passed out already, head lolling lifelessly to one side, a series of tiny snores tickling at Kazuha's ear. He can't help but smile. It's just like old times, in a way.
As he backs himself up to Gorou's bed and lowers him gingerly onto the mattress, he hears a whimper and a sigh, and turns to see that his friend is awake now, looking up at him with bleary, half-lidded eyes as he snuggles into his blankets. "Comfortable?" he asks, and Gorou nods with a wide yawn. "Get some sleep then, okay? I'll see you in the morning."
Kazuha turns to leave but feels a tug on his clothing, holding him firmly in place. He sighs and looks back over his shoulder. Sure enough, Gorou has a fistful of his sleeve, which he pulls on stubbornly to stop him.
"Don't go," he whines, his voice thick with intoxication and fatigue. His ears have flattened to his head in distress. "Please?"
"I'll be right next door. Don't worry."
"Stay with me." The boy's eyes are big and sad as they stare into his, pleading with a million words he couldn't even begin to find right now. Kazuha can read it all on his face, without any more being said, perhaps because he feels exactly the same way. It doesn't matter whether he's next door or across the room. Any distance between them is too far, after what they've endured.
I don't want to let you go either. Ever again.
"Okay," he whispers, his gaze softening as he turns back to the bed and leans down to hug Gorou close. "I'll sleep here." The general arches into him without hesitation, pulling at the front of his robes and burying his nose in the fabric.
"Need these off," he growls, and starts to fumble with the belts and sashes holding Kazuha's outfit together. His hands are useless, and his expression grows adorably frustrated as he struggles to accomplish anything.
"I can undress myself, thank you very much."
And Kazuha does just that, standing right at the side of Gorou's bed, without an ounce of shame. He shrugs off his scarf, then his robe, and kicks off his shoes before stepping out of his pants. Each article falls to the floor gracefully as it leaves his body, and the entire time, Gorou is watching, captivated, until he's left standing before him in nothing but a pair of tight, black shorts.
There's a certain tension in the room now, and Kazuha would be a fool not to notice it. The look on Gorou's face is hungry, and he's seen it before, on so many early mornings and late nights in so many resistance camp tents. It speaks of the things they'd do when everyone else was asleep, how they would cup hands over mouths to stifle their moans so no one would interrupt them, how they mapped every inch of each other's bodies in those moments so they would never forget a thing, if one of them were to die. But they're very much alive right now, aren't they? And both of them know what follows from here, when you've just taken off your clothes in front of the person you love most, and have a warm bed to share, and all the time in the world.
But Gorou is also drunk, and that somehow feels wrong. Would it be too much, too soon? Probably, he admits to himself, with ample disappointment. Not wanting to rush back into something that has been dormant for years, Kazuha resolves to keep his hands to himself for tonight. There will be plenty of opportunity for them to explore this when they both have clear heads. He is a patient person. He can do this.
"Do you need help?" he offers. Gorou is half-dressed; though he had shed much of his armor and accessories earlier in the day, he is still wearing the top and bottom of his uniform, and has enough buckles and belts to get through that Kazuha imagines he might have a hard time.
"No, I got it," Gorou slurs, fiddling with the collar of his shirt and undoing the buckles there. He slides the top over his head and tosses it to the floor, and Kazuha's breath hitches in his throat at the sight of the boy's chest; slim but muscular, and perfectly smooth, without a scratch to be found. Despite his size, Gorou has always been a capable, nimble warrior. It's obvious that in the years that have passed, he has outgrown his youthful penchant for sustaining injuries. His more advanced skills speak for themselves, in that he not only survived a confrontation with Kujou Sara and the Shogun's forces this morning, but walked away unscathed.
The samurai has to scold himself, internally, as his wandering mind has already encouraged some warmth to build between his legs. He can't have that. Hands to himself, remember?
Gorou's shoes fly by Kazuha's head and land somewhere by the door, and then the boy is wriggling around on the bed as he shimmies himself out of his pants, tossing those aimlessly behind him. He, too, is now down to his underwear, and he shivers for a second before diving back under his comforter. Poking his head out, he gives Kazuha that toothy smirk he's been waiting to see all day. "C'mon, Kazu, get in bed already."
He doesn't need to be told twice. Climbing up beside him, Kazuha settles under the blanket, smiling as Gorou edges closer. He pulls him into his arms, and the general's body slots into his embrace like he's always meant to have been here, nestled right against his chest. It's like putting the final piece into an unfinished puzzle. Their breathing starts to sync up, but he can feel Gorou's heart fluttering anxiously, and he pets lovingly at the space between his shoulders, encouraging him to relax.
"Shh, Gorou. You can rest. I've got you."
"Mhm," he purrs, "missed you so much, Kazu...s'much..."
"I know, I know. I'm not leaving again. I promise."
"Do y'know I love you, Kazu?"
Now it's Kazuha's heart that starts to quicken its pace, and it must be so obvious, because Gorou tilts his head up to look at him, and he tilts his down at the same time, and suddenly they are nose to nose and eye to eye, and their mouths must meet just the slightest bit, because he can taste the faintest hint of the wine that has loosened Gorou's lips to this point.
Love. They've never talked about that before. They had talked about many things, and about spending the rest of their days together, but back when they hadn't known how many days they had left... love had seemed selfish. Neither had wanted to set the other up for a loss like that. Things are a little different now. There is hope where it hasn't existed before. But is it the cynic in Kazuha that wonders if that hope is going to be as short-lived and impermanent as everything else seems to be, in this cruel world of theirs, that takes so much more than it gives? Maybe that's why he can't find it in him to tell Gorou the truth: that he loves him too. That he always has and always will.
There is far too much vulnerability in that word, but how can he deny the boy who is staring into his soul right now, so eagerly, as if the sun rises and sets with him? How can he, when Gorou is not only his sun, but his moon and all his stars, the air he breathes, the center of gravity that grounds him through anything and everything?
There are other ways to say it, and he needs to say something, if not with his words than with his actions. So when Gorou presses himself up to close the minuscule gap between them, he welcomes him wholeheartedly, and the two meet in the middle in a slow, tender kiss. As with most things about coming home, Kazuha finds it awkward at first, but somehow his body remembers, and tells him this is okay. Everything is okay.
Gorou's hands ghost their way along his body as their lips press together again and again; one reaches up into his platinum hair, threading through it gently, while the other settles on the jut of his hipbone and pulls them flush together. Kazuha gasps into the boy's mouth and grunts as he holds back a more suggestive noise that tries to follow. His eyes nearly roll back in his head when he feels Gorou's slowly hardening length brushing against his own. "Careful, puppy," he warns, but caution dies with a jab from the general's tongue as it slides greedily into his mouth.
"You taste good," Gorou growls between kisses, and the hand on his friend's hip slides over the curve of his bottom and squeezes, and Kazuha comes undone, a broken moan escaping from him involuntarily.
"Ngh, gods," he groans, and his body betrays him, bucking forward and crashing their hips together, crushing their lengths between them. His fingernails dig into Gorou's back as he clutches him more tightly, and the sound that comes out of the boy is unbelievable, something between a whine and moan that is so full of need and want that Kazuha isn't sure he will ever think straight again. His tail is flapping around wildly underneath the blankets, the soft fur brushing against Kazuha's legs every few seconds, and suddenly Gorou's slender leg slides between his knees and nudges them apart, and his hand follows to paw at Kazuha's bulge through his underwear.
"Want you so bad. Please?"
"G-Gorou, shit, I - " Kazuha pants, trying to keep a coherent thought in his head long enough to form a sentence. "I don't think we should, you're - "
"M'fine, really, fine," Gorou mumbles, but his kisses are sloppy, and his eyes are clouded over with something much more than arousal. He's not fine. He's had too much to drink, and is getting carried away. How bad would Kazuha feel if he woke up sore tomorrow and didn't remember why? Awful. He'd feel awful. He doesn't want to take Gorou back that way. He wants it to be gentle, full of all of the devotion that he has kept alive in his heart in the time he's been away. He wants him to remember every second of it, because it will - gods willing - be the start of a beautiful life they'd once only dreamed of.
Kazuha reaches down for Gorou's hand, patiently removing it from between his legs, and interlaces their fingers together with an affectionate squeeze. "No, shh. We need to stop."
"Kazu, pleeeease~"
"You're drunk, Gorou. I can't." The samurai plants a kiss on his cheek and nuzzles at the spot, as if to infuse it into his skin. "I know you've waited so long for me. I'm just asking for a little longer." Gorou sniffles, and it breaks Kazuha's heart to think he might make him cry. But that just goes to show how far gone he is. With his wits about him, he would never cry over such a thing.
"How much longer?" the boy wails, lower lip quivering.
"Let's see how you feel in the morning, hmm?"
"B'what if I - "
"I will see to it that you're given some space tomorrow. I think you've earned that, after the way you led your men on that beach today." Touching their foreheads together, Kazuha grins at him, drinking in the pure, blue wonder of Gorou's eyes up close. "The Shogun herself couldn't interfere. I'll be all yours. I swear it." He leans into the implicit trust that he knows they have for each other. Kazuha's word is his honor; if he promises it, so it shall be, and Gorou will understand that.
There is a lengthy pause as the general considers the proposal, and then the hand that has been in the other boy's hair starts to stroke at it, brushing his bangs out of his face. Gorou squints at him. "Swear on your life?"
It's all Kazuha can do not to laugh out loud. How dramatic. "Of course. May lightning strike me if I fail you."
"Nooo, I don't want that," Gorou mumbles, and he blinks heavily, already starting to fade. As frisky and filled with intent as he had just been, he is truly exhausted, and it's catching up to him as everything else slows down. "I was juss kiddin'."
"Shh, puppy, I know. Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."
Kazuha watches as his friend finally lets his eyes close, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering as he settles. He drops Gorou's hand, which he has been holding all this time, and rests his arm across his waist, draping it over his back and tracing feathery circles against his skin to soothe him. He's pleased to see that it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep; in minutes, his breaths become more measured, his exhales slow and silent. His poor, tired body has gone limp into the bed, and if it weren't for Kazuha's arm around him, he would probably tip backwards and away from him. But he just pulls Gorou closer, safe and secure, and presses a kiss into his mussed up hair.
"Good boy," he purrs, and he drifts off to sleep with the afterimage of that sweet, handsome face to keep him company in his dreams.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Gorou is up with the sunrise, conditioned to the schedule of the military whether his hangover agrees with it or not. His pitiful groans wake Kazuha beside him, and the silver-haired boy immediately rolls over to check on him, his dark eyes already full and alert.
"That bad, huh?" he teases, and the general pushes him away playfully.
"Don't start."
Kazuha chuckles, but is watching carefully, waiting for any indication that Gorou might remember the events of the night before. He certainly hadn't been surprised to wake up with him in his bed, so he seems to have some recollection... or is that just their level of comfort with one another? Would it have been more concerning for him to have woken up alone?
"I should never have started drinking that whiskey," Gorou grumbles, covering his eyes with his hands as if the weak sunlight is burning holes in them.
"Ah, so that's what it was," Kazuha says as he fingers one of the boy's fuzzy ears. He expects for his hand to be slapped away while Gorou continues to lick his wounds - his pride being among them - but actually, it seems to be consoling him. His tense posture, bracing against what is likely a raging headache, eases up gradually with each little stroke to his fur. All jokes aside, seeing him so uncomfortable is not sitting well with Kazuha, and so he asks, quietly, "What hurts, puppy?"
There's a test here, too; will he still be okay with that name, without the liquor in his veins?
"My head. Just my head. Why is it so bright already?"
Relieved by his non-reaction, Kazuha feels confident enough to scoot himself right alongside Gorou, taking him into his arms and resting his head on the pillow right above his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad that's all. To be honest, I expected worse."
The boy just sighs, and his head droops until it comes to rest on top of Kazuha's. "I bet you did. I'm sorry for the way I behaved last night."
Oh, so he does remember. All signs so far have pointed to that conclusion, but the confirmation of it still leaves the samurai a little breathless, and he pauses before he says anything, thinking about how he wants to respond.
"Don't be," he finally whispers, nuzzling against his friend to reassure him. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I had my hands all over you, Kazu."
"Since when are your hands not allowed all over me?"
"But you told me to stop..."
"Only because I was about to have my hands all over you," he explains, "and if I'm going to do that... I want you to remember it." He pulls away and Gorou's hands drop from his face to see where he is going. Their eyes meet, and the general seems confused, but Kazuha is unblinking, steadfast in his feelings. "I had to be sure that you'd always remember what it felt like for us to be together again. Not just together, but together, body and soul. Do you understand?"
Gorou is quiet for a moment, processing this, but he eventually nods, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I do." He reaches for Kazuha and brings him close again, leaning in to press a delicate kiss to his lips, which is received warmly.
Kazuha turns his head a little, pecking at the boy's cheekbone as he talks. "I figure you deserve that much. You've waited for me."
"Mmm. I have."
"How's your head?" he asks, trailing kisses down to his jawline, then to the soft spot underneath, and then further down still.
A little mewl of surprise comes out of Gorou's mouth, and his grip on Kazuha's shoulders tightens as he presents his neck to him more fully. "It's... aah, Kazu..."
"Still hurt?"
"N-Not so much now..."
"Ah, excellent news," Kazuha hums. Ever so gently, he pushes his friend onto his back and hoists himself on top of him, kneeling with a leg on either side of his waist. His lips barely leave his body in the transition, sucking little love marks into the skin from his throat to his collarbone until the boy is short of breath beneath him. When he stops suddenly, Gorou looks up at him, completely dazed and flushed bright red. He regards him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You still want me, puppy?"
"Y-Yeah," Gorou gasps. "Yes. More than anything."
"Hmm, well then," Kazuha mutters, spreading his hands across the general's chest like it is territory for him to claim. He cocks his head to one side and smirks. "What do you say we make up for lost time?"