keepingshop | ＩＮＥＶＩＴＡＢＬＥ

[~~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. ]

[Someone was being outwardly indecisive again.

Though his amusement barely showed, Doumeki let it be felt with the kiss he left beneath Kimihiro's ear, a quiet huff warming flushed skin. No, he wouldn't deny his partner this, and once Kimihiro's outer robes were safely piled at the foot of the bed for Doumeki to fold once he got Kimihiro settled, he'd splay his fingers on his partner's abdomen and let the slow southern slide of his fingertips catch Kimihiro's attention. Close.

Closer, and the knot binding Kimihiro's inner robe was loosened. Doumeki shifted the both of them to get comfortable, blanketing Kimihiro's side as he let his arm be used as a pillow: here, a hiding place that wasn't so hidden Doumeki could feel Kimihiro's breath though his sleeve.

Kimihiro might think Doumeki gave everything. That was true for the most part, but that didn't necessarily mean things between them were unbalanced: Doumeki enjoyed being able to care and protect Kimihiro, and this wasn't an act of pure selflessness when Doumeki could be selfish, was selfish with his time with Kimihiro, down to being able to tease the sweetness of those sighs and the salt off his skin.]

[ If he squirms a little at the amused huff of breath near his ear, well, he won't be called out on it; but he does squirm and he does sigh for the unhurried traversing of Shizuka's fingers. That sigh shifts into a soft sound of question mm? and then ah as he finds the answer himself, exhaling against Shizuka's arm and telling himself he's not flushing brighter for the gesture. It's dark here anyway, hard to see with or without one's glasses.

Yet Kimihiro can 'see' him anyway, see him through the way his mouth makes and remakes pathways across his skin, can see him with the returned curl of his own fingers in Shizuka's hair, fingernails trailing down the back of his neck light and sharp and definite. Kimihiro accepts Shizuka's care the way he wouldn't and never will with anyone else and these days they both know that. And if it scares him sometimes, he tries not to show it, tries to focus on 'now' rather than the fear of 'someday' when the latter comes with so much baggage it threatens to drag him down prematurely, and what a waste that would be.

He can't quite tell if he himself is just too warm or if Shizuka is cool or if it's both -- probably -- but the result is that he angles his body closer if possible, drawn to the balance even their bodies seem to unconsciously create. ]

[It's both and the air here is freer than what they're used to back at their apartment, but this was irrelevant where the two of them were concerned: the air around them was always warm when they pressed against each other like this and Doumeki's body natural temperature was high enough - likely thanks to his metabolism, but he always credited it to Kimihiro with an acknowledging grunt or the occasional murmured you're here when his partner complained during humid summer afternoons that made even linking arms a challenge.

The thwack on the arm he'd get was well worth seeing Kimihiro flustered in daylight.

In the shadows of the bedroom, he could still tell Kimihiro was embarrassed from the pitch of his voice, to the curl of his fingers, and the press of his limbs, eager in spite of reservation. Pleased, he kissed Kimihiro's temple and neck, a silent request for patience as he held out an arm behind him to blindly rummage on the bedside table and there was the lube where he left it earlier, pop goes the cap, and he lightly sucks on a spot on Kimihiro's neck that's normally covered by hair while he warmed the lube with his fingers before he slipped his hand south once more and, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband, began to stroke Kimihiro's arousal.]

[ you're here always sends Kimihiro into fits because it means so much to both of them; this, they know, but it never fails to incite the same distinctive reaction and perhaps it's in part because there's a part of each of them that never stops being a little amazed that he is. So Kimihiro certainly in those languid summer days hits Shizuka's arm but he also kisses him on the mouth to hide that flustered state, so one might make the argument seasons don't have a ruling over their engagements after all.

Here it's a moot point, Kimihiro letting the soft sounds he can't help but make press into Shizuka's skin, the arm proffered not going to waste in the least. Flustered? Yes. Daylight? Not hardly. But it doesn't matter when the person he's with has seen every iteration of his expressions to date and then some and, as Kimihiro has vehemently stated in the past, "there's no need to stare!" while, at the time, covering his face until Shizuka encircles his wrists to rectify that. He's too tired to make a real effort to hide more than this. And there'd be no point anyway maybe considering how he sighs and gasps, shivers sharp and receptive for the touch and pull of Shizuka's mouth to his neck, how the first curl and slide of Shizuka's fingers draws nothing shy of a whimper that he bites his tongue against. It's again, no point; it's not like Shizuka doesn't know all the ways to touch him; it's not like Kimihiro doesn't know that too; but somehow he's always bright red against the pale of his usual complexion, somehow he's always shocked to find the now familiar intimacy still strangely new.

His nerves tingle along every end, the anxiety of the spirit earlier and leaving the Shop however temporarily, slowly being eased off of him like some kind of reverent blessing he's not sure he deserves but aches for nonetheless -- wants.

Shizuka, he thinks, and doesn't realize he says it out loud too, how it sounds like more and please. ]

[Staring was ever a point to mildly disagree on when Doumeki included looking in the ways he liked to appreciate Kimihiro. Listening, too, was part of that, and he drew out those whimpers with the confident strokes of his hand, the circular rub of his thumb on the sensitive tip, his open mouth pressed on Kimihiro's neck, feeling the rapid pulse on his tongue.

Like this, he felt how Kimihiro opened up in his arms, the tension in his form giving way to delightful shivers. Doumeki hummed, pleased, the heat in his belly stirring when he heard his name in Kimihiro's sinful voice.]

Kimihiro.

[A murmur, a call, between the slowing down of his hand before he picked up the pace and cycled down again, then back: intensity with the ebb and flow of the tide of movement.

Kimihiro wanted to be unburdened from his thoughts. Doumeki would give him that and more.]

[ There's still something deep-seated that finds being appreciated difficult; or maybe it's the never quite gone core of him that understands to be seen is to be known and that was never supposed to be his fate.

Yet here he is.

Shizuka reminds him, instills in him the reality of him through his eyes and then also his mouth and his hands, the heat of his whole body something Kimihiro arches towards blindly, chasing after the friction both fast and slow, making impatient keening sounds when it's 'too' much ebb and not enough flow except he's not really truly complaining. His partner knows explicitly the ways to unravel him no matter how deep backwards in his own mind he gets; the relentless climb and then abrupt patience as if he's being told soon soon is infuriating and it's everything he needs; because he really isn't thinking anymore at all, his body alight with feeling Shizuka everywhere every way he can and it's true: he's too tired for more than this even if at the start he'd have claimed otherwise.

Strung out and resonating vaguely with the last tendrils of the spirit who passed over or through him hours ago, Kimihiro cries out against Shizuka's arm, his teeth grazing slightly with the sharp way his head turns with the sound of it, the deep bow of his back always a sharp almost unrealistic set of lines. Whenever Shizuka does this for him, it's exactly what he needs; but he still feels guilty, not quite ashamed but self conscious; he thinks once again that his partner gives him too much.

Collapsing back his motion is light, body boneless, the dazed almost glossy gleam of his eyes when he smiles so tiredly at Shizuka full of love, because there's no point in calling it anything but what it is. Though there is also gratitude, and a tinge of apology as he raises a hand to his face and traces his lips with his fingertips like a promise for later -- tomorrow perhaps.

He's still catching his breath, unable to say anything, eyes fighting to stay open at all as he realizes he's the one staring now. ]

[That was a beautiful smile, and a privilege to behold, the emergence of a gentle moon over the tide cresting over Kimihiro, made all the more precious for how often his lover was on the move. All the energy Kimihiro had when they were teens was still there in a way, expended in the upkeep of a profession that left him with too many considerations.

Seeing Kimihiro this relaxed, bone deep, was rare indeed.

Doumeki held him through it, arching back, trembling limbs and all, kissed the fingers on his lips - deceptively delicate as their owner, frail and strong and still all too human with how he doubted himself. He watched Kimihiro watching him with a gaze he could lose himself in, feeling rather accomplished that he could still steal away his partner from the worries that bothered him, if even only for a while.

Sometime tomorrow, when Kimihiro was recovered, they could tangle once more in the sheets. For now he reached behind him to grab tissue and wipe down both his hand and Kimihiro before settling his arm around his partner's waist once more and kissing him. Apology accepted, though Doumeki didn't think one was necessary at all in this case - it wasn't a crime to be given consideration when one was tired.]

Comfortable?

Mmm. [ Sleepy is what he means but also Yes and even more so Come back here as he winds one arm up lightly over Shizuka's shoulder, curling behind his neck to lead him back down into another kiss. It's an obvious thing to most people, that you only kiss someone you really care about; but with Kimihiro it's another step beyond that. Shizuka is not a person he opens up for and comes apart under because he's the only choice due to his circumstances; to Kimihiro, Shizuka was the only choice before he made his pact with the Shop, and the fact that it remains so now, is as inevitable as the rest. When Kimihiro loves, it is with all of him and all of him to the greatest extent of himself which sometimes is in fact to a fault.

The way Shizuka held him through every second is not new but it always feels almost heartbreakingly singular; he's not sure why; how being folded into the arms of a person he associates with 'home' makes him shatter and reconstitute all in a breath.

Kimihiro doesn't remember letting his arms fall from Shizuka, or closing his eyes, but he suddenly finds himself on the very edge between last-wakefulness and sleep, unable to open them.]

Shizuka.

[ It's quiet, soft, and normally would be paired with a reaching hand but Kimihiro is truly barely conscious now, just wants to say his name to know he's real, that they're both real and together. Names are things of power and he only says Shizuka's name when they are well and truly alone, but even then he knows he perhaps uses it too much; is greedy to say by way of his name how much he means to him. Half of his apology is also just a promise for later when they reconvene more wakeful and less distracted, unable to be apart for too long when they have the option to be together.

It's just less than even a minute when the last bit of consciousness leaves his frame, the slight fall of his head a little further, the limp curl of a hand on the pillow or sheets, the evening of his breaths. ]

Hn.

[Back he went once he pulled up the blankets, letting himself be drawn to the kiss and their bed, leaving the rest of his plan to get a damp face towel for tomorrow. In some ways, Doumeki's hunger extended to his need to hold Kimihiro, and he coveted his partner's attention when it was offered - often, freely, and tender in all the ways that warmed him, weathering away even his bluntness.]

Kimihiro.

[Close he murmured to Kimihiro's ear, having offered his shoulder as a pillow. Doumeki himself wouldn't fall asleep for a while yet, drinking in the sight of Kimihiro's peacefulness in sleep, before placing the faintest of kisses on his partner's brow: Sleep well. I'm here.

And there he stayed, enveloping Kimihiro in a protective, loving embrace until he himself drifted off, lulled to sleep by his partner's breathing.]

[ It's a gift that Kimihiro revels in to wake up with his face tucked against Shizuka, be it his arm or his shoulder or his chest or whatever. This morning -- he can smell the hour more than anything -- his eyes flutter open slowly, flicks of consciousness until focus happens as much as it's going to without his glasses. Ah. In fact, he closes them again, the lithe lines of his body content to press along Shizuka like some kind of self satisfied cat. It's quiet and even if it wasn't, listening to his partner's heart is such a comfort to him that Kimihiro would probably hear it regardless, but it makes him sigh warmly as if it's new and that's not magic of any kind; but it feels more so. He doesn't know when he started to want, but he knows when the offer to have was given to him, he wasn't strong or unmovable enough to refuse because he didn't want to be alone, yes, but more than that?

You, was all he could think when Shizuka showed he could still see him, when he took him dazed by the wrist with his few belongings to his home and made it clear it was Watanuki's then too. You.

And later: I want.

And later and later: I love.

And now still: I want, I love.

You.

It's overwhelming and sometimes it has the odd effect of drawing up eerie panic in him -- fear.

But mostly even throughout years, he's been able to keep that private even from Shizuka though he has no doubt on some worser days he probably had guesses.

Pressing those thoughts away, Kimihiro is well aware of the undercurrent of old magic now that he'd sensed the day before but felt muted behind his exhaustion. Now even through the wards he Knows it's there but it is not unlike knowing the sky and the earth are there; old old magic, or something like magic; the dust fine residue of something immense and not quite mortal. Forests, rivers, seas, mountains, all of these coalesce for perfect places of origin and staying power whether it's spirits or ghosts or human belief warped until it took shape. His whole body feels a little like a struck nerve. But it's not a new feeling, and in a moment of selfishness, he stays laying with Shizuka like they are, just a while longer.

Just a little, he tells himself, eyes closed and lower lip bitten. ]

[Perhaps it was because they weren't in their house, and the barrier was unusually strong - stronger, even, compared to the one in his family's temple, and perhaps comparing both was trying to see if a child could match up to their parent - or grandparent. The sensation reminded him of a young boy dressed in a girl's kimono, falling asleep out on the porch while sitting next to his grandfather.

Whatever the case: at the present, it was as if even his deep-seated caution was satisfied that no harm would come to Kimihiro in the confines of their room. And so Doumeki slept a sleep without dreams, his face pressed over a dark head of hair, assured that Kimihiro would still be in his arms when he awoke.]

...Kimihiro.

[Even when he stirred into wakefulness, his partner's name was still on his lips, and Kimihiro's hair was soft on his cheek.

The rest of him hadn't yet caught up, nor was this the usual level of rested alertness he's become accustomed to. Doumeki was slow to wake this time, shifting his arm to return it to its proper place around Kimihiro's waist, but he was otherwise content to remain as he was.

Care to nudge him awake?]

[ 'A little while longer' becomes longer...and longer. And eventually after it's been a while since Shizuka murmured his name, Kimihiro makes a soft huff of amusement, turning in his arms just to tangle better, push his long fingered hands back through Shizuka's hair in a way that tilts his head just a little, just enough so he can even more easily press a kiss to his neck. Then he draws back, quite deadset on getting up, washing up, and starting breakfast --

-- but not without Shizuka too.

He blinks, then uses one of his hands to poke Shizuka's cheek. ]

Hey. Enough. We shouldn't waste the day.

[ At home he would pester him more, prod fun at him perhaps, or, if it was a different kind of morning, he might languish himself over top of him and make pathways with his mouth until Shizuka had no choice but to pay attention, and, effectively, listen as well. Here, he does consider it, smooths a fingertip down from the center of Shizuka's collarbones down along the lazy curve of his loosened robe. But there he stops, watching carefully. ]

You wanted to take me somewhere?

[ He's fairly certain Shizuka said that yesterday, though if he's honest, it's all a bit blurry. He can still feel the unnatural exhaustion wanting to cling to him like a spirit would, but it's much less now and he brushes it off as best he can, slipping out of Shizuka's arms to sit up properly, unable to resist brushing his hand back through Shizuka's hair yet again. It's scary -- this, loving him.

Being loved back.

Scary.

And wonderful. ]

...mmn.

[He would've liked to stay longer just to feel Kimihiro's fingers on his cheek and scalp and chest and back again, but not wasting the day was a good point, and Kimihiro sitting up meant Doumeki couldn't kiss him.]

Time?

[The light streaming from the window answered that question for him and, while he sat up, he ended up draping himself over Kimihiro's shoulders, face pressed to his partner's nape.

...a drive after a boat ride couldn't be that exhausting.

Perturbed, Doumeki blinked to clear the last of his sleep and looked out the window.

Sunlight. Too early for a place dependent on the tides.]

Market first after lunch.

[Not the seafood market, it was too late for that, but elsewhere. 'First,' because this island had other interesting places to go to before the destination he had in mind. And after lunch, because he needed to pack a few of their things for it.]

[ He reaches back to card his fingers through Shizuka's hair again, and also to just press his hand there briefly, encouraging him to just stay like that for a moment, content to feel his inhales and his exhales, and silently endeared in a way that always makes him as grateful as it makes him anxious. If someday he has lived out on too far ahead, will the mornings be dreaded things? Nights? Days? Boxing those errant paths of thought away as best he can, Kimihiro closes his eyes and hums acknowledgment: okay. ]

Also, good morning.

[ Shizuka is warm and solid and real at his back. It's the most natural thing to lean slightly, as if drawn toward him subtly concave and for this precise moment, completely his. He doesn't ask what he wants for lunch, knowing he'll make it common knowledge soon enough if he wants to, and even though he's the one who roused Shizuka in the first place, he finds himself the lazy one now, not moving further than he already had. ]

Mmm.

[He breathed deeply, nosing Kimihiro's nape. His partner's scent was always pleasant to him, sharp beneath the aroma of smoke and food, chrysanthemum ambrosia to the tongue. It wasn't a physical impression - far from it - but a vocabulary of notes he's come to associate with Kimihiro over the years between walks in the rain and curling up around him in the sheets.

Once, he'd commented he liked smelling Kimihiro while they were out of the house and left it at that, because everything else like the connection of scent to taste and his preference for Kimihiro's flavor wasn't something he needed to say, absurdly close as it was to Kimihiro being chased around when he was younger.

If Kimihiro suspected - Doumeki thought he did, at least - well. Doumeki wasn't above referencing their sex life just to get a rise out of Kimihiro when they were alone.]

Morning.

[He'd pick out lunch soon enough, as his stomach made it known it was time for breakfast by growling.]

[ Any attempted rises tend to be successful. A not small distinction in the reality they've built for themselves is that Kimihiro retains some of his youthful bluster, prone to going red and a mess of flailing limbs no one else can see when Shizuka shamelessly leans down to say something to his ear or even the corner of his jaw -- in public! Being seen isn't the point per se and yet Kimihiro feels ridiculous both for reacting as he does but also for how self-conscious it still makes him feel. Shizuka is perhaps too generous with his honesty -- the bluntness with which he speaks or behaves Kimihiro's absolute undoing.

Not that he's complaining exactly; at the heart of it, Kimihiro craves Shizuka just as much and to be wanted by him in every sense of the word, every sense itself, is one of his anchoring points in the waking world.

With one final half-pat, half brush of his hand back through Shizuka's hair, Kimihiro smiles as he lets the fingertips draw along Shizuka's jaw, quietly flirtatious , just to pull away completely. Breakfast won't make itself.

Again it strikes him how very quiet it is out here, and he makes their breakfast aware of a subtle hum of old magic or spirits or something that tiptoes along his nerves: the metaphorical cat along the windowsill. ]

[Seeing Kimihiro move about like that, arms flapping wildly like a bird kicking up a dust cloud with its wings, had its comforts. To Doumeki, it was one more sign that Kimihiro was still human, and that even with the uneasy coexistence they had with past griefs and future worries, he wasn't so far gone as to forget laughter. Ever always something to be thankful for.

The coy slide of Kimihiro's fingers, by the way, was a temptation unto itself, bidding Doumeki to chase after one more kiss before standing up. He didn't follow immediately to the kitchen, though the brush of fingers he lef on Kimihiro's arm communicated he'd be there shortly: he had a bag to prepare, a bed to straighten out, hands to wash. Not in that order.

In any case, he'd take his seat once he reached the dining area, content to watch Kimihiro cook. Later, or perhaps over breakfast, he might ask how Kimihiro was settling in: to Doumeki's knowledge, his partner hasn't been exposed to something as old as this island in such a prolonged period of time.]

[ By the time they're both sitting down over breakfast, Kimihiro has had enough time awake and unfettered by that which hung off of him so heavily yesterday, to take in what is around him. It's years of course but years of so much: of people which inherently means spirits, of magic mostly unseen or guised up in religion in quiet private ways, and of nature itself which involves all of those things. He doesn't quite know how to name it, this fullness that almost inhabits him like a hard day's work or what he imagines a satisfying meal must be like. Sort of solid yet neither impervious to change nor unwilling to listen. He covers a half smile with his hand, chopsticks forgotten in the pinch of his fingers as he does not quite laugh because so much of those descriptors remind him of Shizuka.

Somehow, his heart hurts. But it's a good kind. He'd endure a lot worse to love and be loved, and he's at least old enough now to know he wants it even if his behavior is still deeply engrained in not-deserving.

Face still partially obscured, the smile is in his eyes when they slide over to Shizuka briefly. ]

You prepared a bag. Not for the market though?

[ It's not really a question, though the lilt plays it so. ]

[That smile might be covered, but Doumeki could still see it in the glimmer of Kimihiro's eyes. He raised an eyebrow but didn't press for answers - whatever the joke was, it was Kimihiro's to share if he wanted to.]

No.

[And, deliberately, he reached over to Kimihiro's plate with his own pair of chopsticks, pinching a mouthful before presenting it close to his partner's lips, distraction and endearment rolled into one. This was the kind of gesture that would've shocked a younger Kimihiro, unimaginable as it was: Doumeki always did tend to be selfish with Kimihiro's cooking.]

You'll see later.

Did you sleep well?

[He wasn't just asking about their bedtime activities, for all it might sound that way.]

[ A younger Kimihiro would have stared so wide-eyed at Shizuka that one might have been afraid of him losing both of his eyes for good. This Kimihiro opens his mouth and accepts the offered bite for all its worth, both in regard for the fact that Shizuka shares but also the meaning behind that sharing which is ever the succinct but watchful you eat too. So much of Kimihiro's headspace isn't his own when he's in the shop that it's almost too easy to 'live' off of the fumes not substantiated by pipe smoke or glass smiles but the basic give and take of being the Shopkeeper, period. What could one equate it to? Perhaps people who exercise a lot? They say if you inundate your life with activity of one kind, it can sublimate the need for other things, but that's just another way of saying 'make you forget' of course, which is neither good nor acceptable. Not quite mortal but still one who will die -- someday, someday -- though he has become, his body is human in the respects that still matter: bone, blood, skin that tears no less difficultly than it did before, a heart that beats too fast or too slow and never just right. Food is important. Kimihiro knows this and reminds himself every time he cooks for Shizuka, is grateful for the reminder that happens to be able to manifest in a way that makes him feel so much more alive than his primary post -- which is a terrible thing to say and he never would but he can't help it.

As the Shopkeeper he is useful, almost necessary. Not just for his promise made but for those who come to such a place having nowhere else to go.

When he lets the bite linger on his tongue before finishing, he imagines a taste that would make Shizuka's expression be how it is now, and thinks: ah, good then.

It is enough.

Shizuka's answer/non-answer to his question does make him arch a brow as he leans forward a little, sharp elbow on the table. ]

'Later' he says.

[ But then Kimihiro turns his head, profile to him now, chin raised, wholly at contrast with the slight pink in his cheeks. ]

I did. Thank you.

[ Hands idle in his lap, the meal is nearly done and he'll gather the dishes soon, but not yet. For now they remain still, overlapped. ]

It's so vast here.

[ The words slip out without him meaning for them to and when he lowers his head as if finding the beds of his nails suddenly fascinating, the gap of the robe at the back of his neck deepens. Kimihiro doesn't let anyone else see him like this, not so much out of sorts as figuring a thing out. It wouldn't do well for rumor in the spirit realm or otherwise to go on about how the Shopkeeper doesn't know what he's about or is losing his touch. Such is the unforgiving nature of the role. But with Shizuka, he can be a little...less. His brow pinches and he picks at his index fingernail. ]

Not just how old it is. I can't explain it. Maybe after we've walked around, it will make more sense to me.

[ Not that it 'needs' to but there is a need in Kimihiro himself to understand these days. So even if they're here to relax, some things will just have to be accepted as part of his habit. ]

He does.

[Now he was teasing, a small smirk playing on his lips that mixed in with his satisfaction of getting Kimihiro to eat. He could go on doing this for the rest of breakfast, and Doumeki did just that, alternating between feeding Kimihiro and himself, at least until Kimihiro turned down a bite when his appetite was sated.

Once in a while, this sort of thing was good to indulge in. Moreso now, perhaps - they were on holiday, after all.

Kimihiro's description of the house - of the island - was interesting. Doumeki listened, not just with his ears but with his eyes, taking in the rise and fall of Kimihiro's tone, the curl of his mouth, the glimmer in his eyes and the fold of his hands.

That Kimihiro was still mapping out his role as the Shopkeeper wasn't a surprise - indeed, Doumeki would've been worried if that sort of knowledge materialized strongly and without warning, would question if the Shop suddenly possessed Kimihiro out of childish impatience given its former zeal of wanting to own him. So yes, less was fine - let him, at least, be one of the few who still remembered the struggles Kimihiro had taken to master his role, just as Kimihiro had equally seen him navigate how to teach a class given his usually taciturn nature.

(Here was a secret: he might've taken a few cues from how Kimihiro interacted with others, even particularly difficult customers who were, all things considered, more ruined by circumstance instead of personal choice. Expressiveness would never be something Doumeki was fully comfortable with, but the patience for kindness? That could be learned.)]

We have a few days.

[In other words: no need to rush it. He was confident Kimihiro would learn what he needed to when the time came.

Their first two stops hours later, incidentally, were the market and the grocery. Now wasn't necessarily the best time to purchase seafood or meat, but other local produce and snacks were fair game.]

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