keepingshop | ＩＮＥＶＩＴＡＢＬＥ

[ if asked in the car, Kimihiro would have opted for rest. Now faced with the yard and subsequent woods, he pauses a moment before yielding to his residual nausea and turning back towards the house. ]

Shall we have a look?

[ The cant of his head is playful as he heads back in without waiting, Shizuka in tow. He starts with the kitchen though which might be a mistake as then he ends up spending so much time in there that it's possible Shizuka would have been better off looking at the rest without him. He's assessing what he might make for dinner and also breakfast the next day as he does so, opening and closing drawers, cabinets, the refrigerator, so on and so forth. He's pretty much thoroughly acquainted himself with it when he stands up too fast, lightheaded. It's easy enough to lean on the counter though, letting himself re-orient before dazedly making his way to a chair or sofa or clean expanse of floor -- whichever comes first honestly -- to sit down. He does this all with an unconscious grace that he doesn't always invoke outside of his work, but sometimes it slips in, the near austerity of his motions really just the result of being careful.

Not sea-sickness, he thinks to himself dully. Is it something he should look into? He hadn't a sense of it before coming here and even now it remains as vague to him as ever, which isn't so common given how powerful he's grown to be.

Worrying.

Guilt gnaws at him to stop thinking about work but it's not like he leaves the Shop and the spirit world stops too.

And if it makes him feel this way it's usually...not the best sign.

His hands rest listlessly in his lap, and he closes his eyes to let himself breathe back some calm; some focus.

He'll do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done.

That is part of his job.

It's fine.

For now, he re-focuses on the smell of the woods, Shizuka's presence, and the gentleness of the quiet out here.

It feels, he thinks, very kind inside of its wild heart. ]

[On the contrary: he was content watching Kimihiro orient himself with the kitchen, checking the available dishes, cutlery, pots, pans, and appliances, the corners of his owm mouth tipped in a fond smile as he listened to 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and catches of phrase, the usual commentary. What they'd have for dinner and breakfast would be based on what they brought with them, to be replenished once they got to the local market and saw what was available.

Given how they were so near the sea, it was reasonable to expect there'd be a lot of seafood, cheaper than what they'd get back at Tokyo.

Before he could remark on this, however, he saw it - a break in Kimihiro's movement. Doumeki was immediately at his side, guiding him to sit on a chair he'd pulled back with a hooked ankle, and knelt before him.]

Oi.

[Gently, he cupped Kimihiro's cheek and checked for any changes in temperature, fingers dipping below that smooth jaw to feel his pulse. This wasn't normal - if this was motion sickness from the car ride, Kimihiro would've looked ill at some point during the drive.

Doumeki frowned.]

What happened?

Nothing, [ His knee-jerk response even now and he amends it almost immediately, ] -- nothing I'm sure of. Yet. [ It both amuses and frustrates him to remember how he would angst over Yuuko's way of wording things -- back when he didn't know any better, when he didn't understand. Now, unable to avoid it much of the time himself, painstakingly having learned and still yet learning the different dangers of how one says things and how one stays quiet, he has taken on much of her way of expressing himself. At the beginning it was too much; like he thought he could call her back by vesting enough of her inside of himself; Shizuka had been one person to point out he could not and while Kimihiro had said 'I know', he hadn't; not really. Not until enough considerable mistakes were made.

Shizuka's hand at his jaw then his fingers against his neck are all points of comfort; points of anchoring. Kimihiro's eyes flutter shut, only then realizing he'd opened them before at all. ]

I'm alright, [ he pauses, his own hand gliding up to cover his in an unintentionally delicate reassurance. ] If it's anything for me to take care of, I will.

[ And of course what he means is: I can. ]

But it's not here. It was...when we were on the boat.

[ Here perhaps he realizes a slight mistake; he hadn't told Shizuka he'd felt anything then, and indeed nothing else thereafter until now when his own body begged lenience for just a second, just to readjust with Shizuka close and the forest quiet not far and the gentle absence of most people if not spirits. It really is helpful, he can feel how much worse the miasma would have clung to him in a less pure place. Shizuka chose well; but then again, Shizuka usually does.

Not that he'll say so, but, the truth is the truth. ]

[Yet.

Doumeki listened without judgment, turning over his hand to bring their palms together, massaging the dips between sharp knuckles while the back of his own hand warmed Kimihiro's neck.

He had to concede that, most of the time, trouble found the Shopkeeper. Human niceties mattered little when the consequences of circumstances happened and the right time to deal with them came about. For this reason, he merely quirked an eyebrow at Kimihiro's lateness in communicating the specifics of what happened in the boat, and was at least glad he'd been brought into the loop now rather than during the return trip.]

Malevolent, or old?

[Apart from the place he planned to take Kimihiro to tomorrow, this island had other features that, in theory, would lessen their connection from their usual routine: it wasn't heavily populated, the forest was old, and it was an island surrounded by water: in other words, whatever things that tried to follow them should have been discouraged after they crossed the sea, and any ill intent other tourists might bring with them may very well have been dwarfed by the sheer age and austerity of the rocks and trees.

Deities of the seas were often seen as benevolent, though Doumeki hadn't met any of them, and Kimihiro never said if the Ame Warashi spoke of them. However, perhaps sea gods and dragons weren't the only entities that resided in the depths, and he wondered if that was what affected Kimihiro.]

[ It takes Kimihiro a while to answer, though in the interim there's the soft hum of his approval -- not that Shizuka needs such a thing, he supposes, but some habits are hard to unlearn and it's inclusive of if not limited to these auditory stepping stones Kimihiro has learned to employ when speaking with clients or tempestuous spirits or anything in-between. He doesn't treat Shizuka like these because Shizuka isn't, but even Kimihiro is given over to unconscious actions, filling spaces these days not with as much bluster but something more subtle.

Eventually he opens his eyes, half-mast, head tilted towards Shizuka ever so slightly. ]

Old. Not friendly but I wouldn't call it malevolent either; just...old.

Untrusting, maybe.

[ What he doesn't say: it doesn't feel like the kind of 'old' he associates with nature spirits or other beings; it feels human 'old'. A ghost rather than a water deity then. But why there? Well, inwardly, he grimaces; there are only one or two reasons when he really thinks about it. But the onset of the feeling had been so fast and when Kimihiro could discern it, it had fled or the boat had moved on, or something; he's still not sure which it was, perhaps both. But right now he just squeezes Shizuka's hand -- anyway don't worry -- and gingerly gets to his feet to return to the kitchen; dinner won't make itself, and if he's honest, he wants this to feel a little more like the trip they intended it to be than just another extension of his work.

Not that he exactly gets the choice, but he can make the effort and see where it gets them. ]

['Old' would suffice for now.

Doumeki nodded, returning the squeeze of that hand and letting Kimihiro stand. If he needed to know more, it would be mentioned at the right time. This, he trusted Kimihiro to do.

He got up from the floor and followed Kimihiro to the kitchen, leaning on the door frame and taking a few minutes to watch his partner's movements, from the steadiness of his hands to the ease of his gait: he wasn't about to explore the house if Kimihiro was in danger of passing out. Once it became (thankfully) clear that no such thing was going to happen, however, he strode forward to leave a kiss on his partner's nape.]

I'll be back.

[He'd inspect plenty of things on the way to the bedroom while he carried the rest of their luggage, from the functionality of the lights, to the maintenance of the tatami mats. Indeed, the place was well-cared for and aired out: he couldn't smell mold, and the the sea breeze freely drifted through the corridors.

By the time he returned to the kitchen, he was snacking on senbei, one of the complimentary snacks he found laid out on a tray back at the bedroom's dresser.]

It's clean.

[Best point that out in case Kimihiro got antsy enough at some point and managed to summon a feather duster from who-knows-where out of habit.]

[ By the time Shizuka is back, their dinner is well underway -- potato nikkoro-gashi, miso soup, tsukudani (kombu only), and hiyashi soba. Part of him wonders if it will be enough and then figures it will be if only because Kimihiro himself doesn't eat very much. At the beginning it was perhaps cause for concern and over time it became arguably less concerning and more strange -- that Kimihiro who values food so greatly, partook of it less and less. But once he did explain to Shizuka: "I get more satisfaction out of seeing people eat." and tactfully did not say because I can't remember the taste anyway. And, it's worth noting that he does eat; he's proud of the food he makes and the Doumeki litmus that it passes. He still makes everything with care and consideration; he always will.

The return of Shizuka with the senbei makes his eye twitch a little but there's no point in remarking on it when they both know something like that has no chance of ruining Shizuka's appetite in the least....

...and actually you know what he is going to say something after all except his attention gets taken by 'It's clean'.

His brows rise. ]

I should hope so.

[ Though he might double-check/inspect just to be sure later.

With a tasting dish he turns towards Shizuka, holding it out -- though he had deeply considered very briefly withholding it as a criticism of snacks before dinner and never mind that at the Shop they snacked all the time (where Shizuka and Mokona put all of it, well, Kimihiro isn't sure). The broth to pour over the soba is very simple like their whole meal's wavelength, and while it would be ideal to have chilled it longer, Kimihiro is vaguely certain it's fine -- not a lot to mess up with mirin, water, and soy sauce, if he's honest.

His dizziness from earlier is just a dull throb behind his eyes now, waiting expectantly for Shizuka to try the broth before he finishes up with things here., ]

[A missing sense of taste notwithstanding, Doumeki would give his partner a pinched look over dinner until Kimihiro ate at least enough to replenish his energy. While he could respect having only a small appetite, the fact remained that sake and tobacco lacked the necessary nutrition to maintain physical health.

All those sentiments, of course, weren't elaborated as such, and instead condensed to a single word: eat. Or, when he felt particularly chatty, You eat, too.

The senbei, by the way, were passable, but still no match for Kimihiro's.

That Doumeki drifted over when he was offered a taste shouldn't come as a surprise, and he slipped an arm around Kimihiro's waist as he dipped his head, lips meeting the tasting dish.

The broth itself might be simple to make, which was why making it memorable was a feat. Kimihiro delivered with consistency, balancing salt and sweetness, keeping it light. Tender. Happy, in a way that reached deep into his being carved from loss and sacrifice.

Loving, and Doumeki licked his lips and pressed them to Kimihiro's neck, forgetting for a moment that the packet of senbei he held still had a bite or two in it.]

Good.

[ Kimihiro doesn't quite preen under that single word or under Shizuka's mouth, but it's a near thing even as he sighs, his eyes closing briefly as he sighs. Then he opens them again, soft even as he retracts the hand with the dish so it rests with his wrist propped against the counter, not making any move to pull away from the curl of Shizuka's arm about his waist. ]

Of course it is, [ is what Kimihiro says even though they're both well aware he only ever asks Shizuka to taste-test out of both trust and the fact that he doesn't have any way to know. 'Of course' is a failsafe kind of response that lets Kimihiro have his pretense of not needing Shizuka's personal approval; and well, maybe it's not pretense.

He doesn't need it; he wants it, which arguably is the more powerful of the two because it's Kimihiro who so seldom lets himself want or admit to that want. The times are particular and entangled with Shizuka only these days and it's enough to make him flush but with his face looking forward, perhaps Shizuka only sees the red in Kimihiro's ears. It doesn't matter how long they're together in terms of how easily Shizuka makes him feel -- blush or grow warm or pleased even in gentle ways like this, ways that make the moments themselves feel like a home.

So of course he blushes; of course he airily bats at Shizuka's arms or wherever and says,] G-go sit down now and wait. And don't spoil yourself with, with --

[ A small gesture with the empty tasting dish at the unfinished senbei; is he pouting? Almost. Kind of. A little. But there's no real upset behind it. If anything, all Kimihiro sounds, is fond. ]

[He could see the shift before him between the acceptance of the compliment and growing self-consciousness, the red on Kimihiro's ears reaching tip to lobe. Smirking, Doumeki ever so lightly caught the lobe between his teeth and parted with a kiss, all just because he could.]

The last piece.

[For now. Or so he pretended this agreement was just for the senbei and not his impromptu snack plus that ear nibble, and he let himself be shushed away with a few munches on that last mouthful of cracker.

Not that he'd be too far away when the low dining table was within sight, and he made himself comfortable on one of the zabuton.]

[ He makes a sound as if to say 'Yeah right' but he does in fact believe him in regards to the senbei at least, and if the flush doesn't leave him in regards to the nip to his ear, well, that's unavoidable isn't it. The way he watches Shizuka out of the corner of his eye -- gently somehow strikingly calmly in a way that's hard to put words to -- is also unavoidable.

Dinner is not so different from home in that it's relaxed yet respectful. Kimihiro spends most of his time watching Shizuka eat, cheek pressed to his curled fingers and other hand missing his smoking pipe. It makes him think of Haruka, not too weirdly, given the nature of smoke and their encounters. Ah well. He must blink or even partially daze, because when he focuses back in again, some moments have passed. Meals are always done justice when Shizuka is present, and while his partner in crime isn't there to assist, he didn't need it tonight -- Kimihiro fluent in cooking for two as well as three or four or five. His own portion he finished if barely, but as is typical of him, his appetite is elusive at best -- something like a reminder of his semi-intangibility.

He lets his eyes shut again, aware of the smell of the sea and the forest, of the far-awayness of where they are, and of Shizuka whose whole presence can wend around Kimihiro if he lets it, which these days, he often does. ]

[The soup, soba, nikkoro-gashi, and tsukudani were all sampled before their steady one-way trip from bowl to mouth, the blend of mirin and soy serving as a base note to bring out each dish's ingredients. Indeed, this wasn't too different from home if he ignored the different patterns on the porcelain and the fresh breeze, his knee still touching Kimihiro's as he ate and paused on occasion to pour tea for both of them.

That Kimihiro finished before him wasn't surprising - it had always been like that even when they were still in high school, having lunch picnics under maple trees and sakura, or over at the stairwell near the roof. In those days, Doumeki found amusement in Kimihiro's unshakable habit of cooking for a small army in spite of all those loud protests and accusations, and he'd endured the threat to his ear drums because really, Kimihiro's cooking was peerless, and every bento box was one more serving to make up for the other food he'd been subsisting on up to that point, with no offense meant to his grandmother's culinary skills and his grandfather's favorite food stalls.

Those were good. Homely, even. On the other hand, Doumeki knew his grandmother agreed that Kimihiro's cooking was superb, and his grandfather talked frequently enough with Kimihiro.

So yeah. Flash forward to the present, Doumeki was still a glutton. Enough for him to check if there were seconds, once he was sure Kimihiro hadn't fallen asleep in the middle of dinner.]

Lie down if you need to. [If Kimihiro needed rest, there was little reason for him to push himself unnecessarily. Refreshment was the main highlight of this trip, after all.] I'll follow after cleaning up.

Edited 2020-05-30 14:38 (UTC)

[ Several times now, Kimihiro is fairly certain he's told Shizuka he can't say that, shouldn't compare his cooking and Shizuka's grandmother's! It mortifies him each time honestly while in the same turn it pleases him because if there's one thing Kimihiro does pride himself on it's not wish granting or finding dust where dust shouldn't possibly populate, but rather in his cooking even if he can't taste it himself. Even knowing Shizuka means no offense -- never in this case -- doesn't quite stave of the self-consciousness, but comparisons aside, it makes him happy -- dare he admit it -- to know the person he loves not only continues to eat the things he makes, but enjoys them. A few times in dreams, Haruka has made various comments about Shizuka's eating preferences, though most recent of which Kimihiro is now experienced enough to catch the potential double meaning of -- potential because he never could be sure with Haruka and knew in those moments vaguely what kind of nightmare it would've been to deal with both him and Yuuko at the same time.

Not that he wouldn't take it, given the choice.

Which is a dangerous line of thinking.

He blinks when Shizuka speaks, smiles lazily. He hadn't realized how tired he'd been lately, hadn't even honestly noticed the breadth of it here until they sat down like this, as if his body needed the physical indicator it could yield for a while and then promptly did. His eyes do not quite drift shut again and he leans back, arms stretched high in a way that has his sleeves falling down about his upper arms briefly.]

Not necessary. We'll do it together.

[ Is it stupid to like their little traditions, daily as they are? Is it childish?

The better question is, does Kimihiro care?

No.

Shizuka reminds him just by being present that in his own way, Kimihiro is allowed to want things and if he asks them of Shizuka, then they will be given if it is in his capacity to do so; and what does he want really, except time with him? Whether to nitpick or to eat or to wash or to wander, he thinks it would be such a waste to miss out on any of it when he doesn't know how long they will have it for.

For all Kimihiro knows, he'll stay like this forever and Shizuka will not.

But it doesn't bear speaking of.

Far rather, he would do as he says: stands and heads towards the kitchen with a handful of dishes balanced on everywhere from his delicate wrists to the splay of his fingers; he's gotten quite good at this too, it seems. ]

['Shouldn't' is a word Doumeki's heard every now and then when he bothered to pay attention to the expectations imposed upon him, and most he'd meet with silent dismissal or a blunt rebuttal.

In comparison to those, Kimihiro's mortification when his cooking was compared more likely stemmed from a sense of propriety that Doumeki himself only adhered to when he thought it was both important and appropriate. Whatever the case, he'd accept the chiding he got when his grandmother was out of earshot, shrug, and lay out an offering for his grandfather.

Food was something he held in high regard, not just for its own sake, but also for the one who prepared it. As such, the best he could do - or, rather, the best thing he believed he could do even when he was younger - was to eat mindfully and be sincere in his consumption.

Really, he wasn't one to disparage the enjoyment of personal traditions when he had plenty of his own, things he did by himself or with Kimihiro. The regularity of doing their dishes together was a pleasant thing indeed, and he wouldn't dissuade his partner unless Kimihiro was obviously ill and needed to lie down.

So Doumeki nodded and followed, bringing with him the other dishes. For all this wasn't their kitchen, it was easy to find their usual rhythm once they mapped out the minor changes in the layout, and in no time at all their bowls and plates were wiped down and arranged on the rack.]

[ By the time they're finished, Kimihiro has to concede some mild defeat to his exhaustion after all, but he does it in the preferred way of still appreciating the fact that they are together -- that they are together and, in theory, they have time more completely to themselves than usual. And that rather says something when one of the two of them doesn't even exist to most people, but perhaps it's balanced out by how much of the world doesn't consist of 'people' anyway, and Kimihiro certainly still exists to those -- creatures of nature, clients old and new. They could yet find him out here, he's almost expecting it after that experience on the boat clung to him all the way to the house, but for now they haven't quite. For now, he neatly hangs the dish towel so that it dries evenly before reaching his hands out for Shizuka.

They lace neatly at the back of Shizuka's neck and this more than anything else is an indicator of how tired but also how relaxed Kimihiro is, that he leans up to press his mouth fond and warm and always, somewhere underneath that light, a little scared -- of loss, of no longer having -- even as he kisses him a second time, this one more lingering than the first.

Shizuka has of course the taste of the food they ate for dinner, the drink certainly, but also something just distinctly him. It sort of stuns Kimihiro sometimes to realize Shizuka chose him and then he tells himself not to think about it too much because it's still too overwhelming a truth to look at very closely -- facets of the old him who was made of I don't deserve and I shouldn't be here a pin's drop away from surfacing when something so good belongs to him. ]

[He turned when he was asked for, and they stood close enough that he didn't need to step forward - like this, he put himself at Kimihiro's disposal, welcomed the fingers on his nape and the kisses lingering on his mouth, and drew Kimihiro into a third kiss, leaning forward and securing his arms around his partner's waist.

To him, there was no denying that just as Kimihiro sometimes still couldn't believe they were together, Doumeki considered himself fortunate that Kimihiro chose to stay with him. This was doubly true when, in retrospect, there were plenty of things between them at the time that were difficult to express, and Doumeki knew his own curtness wasn't necessarily helpful. In fact, he could attribute to Kimihiro his having to learn how to elaborate certain thoughts outside of academics, but a little discomfort and friction against his own reticence was well worth the effort in bridging the rivers of meaning that welled up between himself and Kimihiro without neither of them immediately noticing.

Fortunately for him, being demonstrative wasn't limited to using words. Doumeki kept his broad hand around Kimihiro's waist after their fourth and fifth kisses, guiding him out of the kitchen before glancing in question - bedroom or porch? Or bath?]

[ It doesn't serve anyone to dwell too much on 'what ifs' but sometimes, when he can't sleep no matter how tired he is, Kimihiro is plagued by them. He then tries to recall to himself moments like this to balance; to center. Shizuka has a way of telling him all of this is real in everything from the press of his mouth to the brace of palm and fingers and Kimihiro loves this just as much as the way Shizuka is mindful of what he says to him with his words too. He revels in it and then feels a little self conscious, but these days he knows, in all honesty, Shizuka means for him to do so -- wants him to have rather than have not.

It's only the pause in kisses that draws Kimihiro out of it enough to blush deeply and curl his fingers in the fabric of Shizuka's shirt none too lightly -- a contradiction to his neatening of it on a typical day -- as he peers up at him and murmurs, ]

Why did you stop?

[ Which in Kimihiro to Shizuka translates to: don't make me think. Because then he'll overthink even after all this time though in this case, if the question were put directly to him, his one hesitation would be that if they head for the bath he might fall asleep even if Shizuka doesn't stop kissing him. Something about the heat and steam always sets Kimihiro dizzy even when he's wide awake, much less dazed like this. ]

[His eyes darkened with interest when he heard the underlying question, and pressed his lips on Kimihiro's temple in promise.]

To get you comfortable.

[If Kimihiro fell asleep on him in the middle of making out, that was understandable. Kimihiro's sea encounter on top of them spending most of the day in transit was what it was.

With that in mind, Doumeki guided him to he bedroom, where he'd already set up a few wards to merely strengthen the foundation already set in place in the house's original construction. Everything else could wait until tomorrow, and when he guided Kimihiro down to bed and settled on top of him, it was with a kiss, the tip of his tongue tracing the line of his partner's mouth.

If Kimihiro wanted to set aside the burdens of the day and didn't want to think, Doumeki would gladly oblige.]

[ He'd known Shizuka had put into place precautions to reinforce the protection of the house, but even as used to Shizuka's wards as he is, he arches a brow at the strength of them when they cross the bedroom's threshold. It's only a moment of notice and then Shizuka is making good on Kimihiro's unspoken demand -- one of the really surprisingly lovely things about falling for someone who's already a person of few words anyway is that Shizuka also understands Kimihiro when he becomes like this. The causes aren't consistent; sometimes it's exhaustion that sets his nerves on edge and sometimes it's sadness and sometimes it's just the overwhelming nature of adoring one person and knowing the real danger of that. Sometimes.

Shizuka teases at his lips and it's the easiest thing for Kimihiro to open his mouth to him, thread his long fingered hands up into Shizuka's hair and keep asking him for things without making a sound.

Well, that's not entirely accurate; the sigh that gets lost somewhere between them, that, Shizuka might hear. They're certainly close enough. ]

[~~Doumeki Shizuka was his name, silence was his game~~

The absence of words was far from emptiness. There were plenty of other things to observe - the line of Kimihiro's spine, the angle of his head, the tapping of his feet on the floorboards, the crinkle on the corners of Kimihiro's eyes when he said certain things, the indirectness of his personal demands. All these Doumeki paid attention to as he willingly let himself be drawn to Kimihiro, didn't look away from those sharp cheekbones and dexterous fingers.

Why would he, when he cherished every secret thing that passed through them?

Here, a slide of his tongue along Kimihiro's. Here, the taste of his lower lip, the drawing of a sigh, Doumeki's broad hands a slow, deliberate trail on Kimihiro's sides: this is your shape and you are cherished.

Shall he pull off those glasses and set them aside? Kimihiro won't be needing them for the rest of the night.]

[ ~~what a legacy~~

When this was newer, Kimihiro had a ridiculous habit of repeatedly more or less 'ruining' the moment (not exactly, not in the way that they never continued, but a break nonetheless) by squirming beneath Shizuka and covering his face with both hands and looking up at him through splayed fingers before using those same hands to press against his chest as he also pressed his face to his neck and just...stayed there a while. Embarrassed? Very. A tad out of sorts that it took so little to make him unravel underneath him? Extremely. It took what Kimihiro can only -- blushingly, frustratingly, slightly irritably -- imagine amounts to a great deal of Shizuka's patience that he willingly gave to Kimihiro -- the permanently instilled sense that no matter how 'easy' Kimihiro became with Shizuka in this way, it would not detract from his interest. To be honest, if he accidentally thinks about it even now, Kimihiro will become mortified because it's shameful isn't it? Shizuka has never given him less than 100% of his regard and Kimihiro's own insecurities still got the better of him for so long -- sometimes still do. And it's this kind of thought process that sometimes leads to: Shizuka deserves better.

But Shizuka smooths his hands down Kimihiro's body like an old prayer and Kimihiro is selfish like this, how he soaks up all of his attention and his time and his loyalty. The sigh is a few threads of sound that spool out warm and encouraging, definitively lost when he deepens the kiss only to gasp out loud for how Shizuka tastes him -- the deliberate, quiet, proof of being wanted. Because even when he used to remark more on Shizuka's expressionlessness or his stoicism in demeanor not just relegated to his face, Kimihiro knew he was handsome; knew he was reliable; knew he was not undesirable. It's part of why he did say those things, as if to make himself feel like he had control over any other thoughts.

He doesn't though, not really, not where Shizuka is concerned.

Kimihiro's knee-jerk response is to cover Shizuka's hands with his, pausing the removal of glasses, thumb skating across his wrist but it's just an impulse, and he lets his hands fall away, letting him take them and set them somewhere out of the way. It makes it easier anyway, for Kimihiro to angle up and kiss Shizuka's jaw, the sharp line of it to beneath his ear like he could tiptoe his desire along his skin with kisses. He considers Shizuka's mouth with his gaze half-cast, lashes low, but opts for pressing his mouth beneath the eye they share, one of his hands, sliding from Shizuka's chest to the side of his neck where it curls gently. ]

[~~all part of the brand~~

There were quite a few things Doumeki still hadn't admitted to, and that included the role the pipe fox played in understanding just how ticklish and, therefore, sensitive Kimihiro was. Doumeki's fingers might not be covered in fur, but it was hard to not draw similarities with how Kimihiro squirmed then and now.

It wasn't that he was a saint, but that he already knew what to more or less expect, including having embarrassment as a first layer of defense.

So. He was patient, mindful that Kimihiro was also a flighty creature who shrank away at intensity, and took care of cooling down, so to speak, alone in the shower on evenings when necessary, because he wasn't going to rush the slow, delicate dance they found themselves on yet again. This he didn't consider a loss, not when having Kimihiro hiding his face while they were in bed had a distinctly different meaning compared to the other times, and Doumeki could take his time kissing the backs of those hands and rest his chin on the arms he'd carefully folded on Kimihiro's chest while he face watched.

There were some habits he'd picked up from those early days - letting Kimihiro explore and touch to get comfortable was one. Leaning down to meet Kimihiro was another, and he hummed in contentment when he felt soft lips touch beneath their shared eye.

'Sleep,' he might've said, but he'd let Kimihiro do that on his own. Instead, he turns his hand to lace their fingers together, and paint a soothing, feathery trail from Kimihiro's brow to jaw with his lips.]

[ Mugetsu -- adorable menace as he was -- uncovering Kimihiro's ticklish tendency remains one of the ultimate betrayals in the household known as the shop and the reminder is nearly daily if brief! Still, he can't say most of his protests are genuine when he also can't help but smile at the pipe fox or even at Shizuka when that weakness is capitalized upon. There's something sweet in how they treat him that while he won't often look at it directly, also isn't something he fails to notice altogether. Maybe it's the human thing again -- not specifically being ticklish but rather just feeling normal; ordinary, for a moment.

Likewise the nights when Shizuka would give him space, give him time, let him go at his own pace until they could find one together, also made him feel human.

He can't quite remember if it was Shizuka himself one night, not tangling together but Shizuka's hands on his shoulders -- so it must have been him -- as he gasped through the pain of an injury for the price of something more costly than he'd charged.

"You can be hurt."

Laughing. Hurting. The things in between. Human feeling things.

Oh he hadn't forgotten but he'd pretended not to know thinking it would help, and Shizuka was there when Kimihiro finally came around to the realization that it not only didn't help; it harmed.

That they can be as they are now is a gift but it's also the result of time, patience, and kindness. Love. Kimihiro can't think of it too articulately or he gets self conscious and worried. But the nice thing about how Shizuka makes him shiver and tremble under his kisses and his hands is that articulation comes in other forms. Shizuka, he thinks, wants him to sleep, and Kimihiro is tired; he is. But Shizuka is also still kissing him and he finds somewhere in the midst of his tiredness, something that's always bright and eager; wanting. He slides his arms up over Shizuka's shoulders, curling them in to see if they can't be closer, letting his head tilt back against the pillows when he breaks the kiss, panting softly, like he's afraid he'll be heard even though there's literally no one else out here.]

[Slow, slow, Doumeki settled upon him like the waves lapping up the shore, nuzzled Kimihiro's exposed neck in comfort, brushed his lips just above a steady pulse. No sharp nips or bites today when getting too excited was counterproductive, though he'd begin undoing and peeling away the outer layers of Kimihiro's clothes to make rest easier.

If he drew the comparison between undressing Kimihiro and the careful unwrapping of a gift, well. Only Doumeki needed to know.

Sleep, the press of his mouth on Kimihiro's temple and cheeks might've communicated, but there was more way than one to lull Kimihiro to sleep and ward away the noise of his thoughts, and his hand wandered to curl on a slender hip in question. Tonight wasn't one for extremely vigorous activities, no, but he could take the edge off from Kimihiro, if that eagerness still stirred him so.]

[ Distraction from his own thoughts is almost impossible given his position as Shopkeeper, but if moments of reprieve come it's almost always like this these days: with Shizuka, in any capacity. A younger Kimihiro would have wrote it off glibly that of course he offered ample distraction because of reasons XYZ -- all of which he'd make sure were annoying in some way, if perhaps, ridiculous. There's no reason or need to do that now, and there might not have been then either; but he was a different him then and that's something they both know.

Shizuka is silence but he's also...gentleness.

It's not something Kimihiro allowed himself to see for the longest time, vaguely aware that the second he acknowledged that part of him would be the self-same moment his own weakness showed.

As things have turned out, he doesn't complain, but the fear before it happened was very real.

He can feel his meaning in the quiet -- Sleep -- and he sighs beneath his kisses as if to say maybe only to have the sighs twist up into something more hitched at the touch of his hand at his hip. He's tired enough that he's let the drapes and finery of Shopkeeper fall off of him nearly entirely -- rare --, which means he makes no masks about how he pouts, brow furrowed in indecision, somehow loudly saying without saying at all: I'm tired but I want... and then he's blushing because of course he's blushing, turning his face to press to the bedding so he doesn't have to meet Shizuka's gaze straight-on. It's embarrassing, and justifying how touch-starved he is only makes it worse. Sometimes he thinks it'd be better if he could deny it because it's not like Shizuka doesn't give him everything already; there's no need to be this, well, needy.

Unsolicited advice from a dream full of smoke and dry comments on his life might note that 'need' is an expression of love.

But Kimihiro does a very valiant job of steering clear of ever talking about Shizuka with his grandfather, if he can.

For those reasons. Specifically.

Head still turned away, he sighs softer this time, one of his own hands contently curled at Shizuka's nape. ]

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