[multipart] Scientific Progress Goes "Whoops": Square One, Once Removed [5/7]
Title: Square One, Once Removed
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou!
Characters/Pairings: Yozak/Murata; Greta, Yuuri, Wolfram, mentions of Ulrike and the Shinou
Genre: Fluff
Words: 879
Notes: Cavities. @.@;;;
Part 1: Tea for Two
Part 2: Home Again, Home Again
Part 3: Cats and Bags
Part 4: Friend-ly Advice
Eight months after the fiasco with Anissina's "special" tea, Murata was back watching people frolic in the gardens. Though, this time, there would be no tea, and Yozak had joined the participants rather than the spectators. Sir von Bielefeld's batting skills had improved considerably, though the blond still seemed inclined to wield the bat like a sword. If he could harness that correctly, he'd probably manage to be a reliable line-drive-grounder hitter or a sacrifice bunter. But somehow, Murata doubted the young noble would remain patient long enough to master either.
Murata watched them all from the patio, chin propped up on one hand, elbow firmly planted on the tabletop. His uniform jacket lay draped over the back of his chair. The return of spring weather had been a blessing; that year's winter had been sleety and unpleasant. Just cold enough for a person to feel it, but piling a bed with quilts was excessive. And the maidens decided unanimously that the corporeal man of the temple should be the one responsible for clearing the steps and flagstones whenever they became too slick or during the rare snowfall. The Shinou's spirit thought it all very funny. Murata had quickly gotten in shape, but still considered the whole situation highly unfair.
Though, now he had an excuse to leave the temple on a semi-regular basis. His reason was always the same and always vague, but Ulrike instructed the maidens not to bother him about it. He hated asking for help in anything, but couldn't deny that she had proved infinitely helpful and discreet. She only asked for little bits of gossip, now and then, though never for the gory details. She was always particularly delighted at hearing about the seeking game he and Yozak played whenever the spy returned from a mission. Yozak's last riddle to him had been particularly challenging.
He smiled a little as he watched the redhead hoist Greta up on his shoulders; she was almost too big for that, though neither of them seemed ready to admit it. Although, he'd seen Yozak lift far heavier things than an eleven-year-old human girl, so maybe there was still some time left. Murata let his gaze wander over the redhead's sleeveless arms and appreciated the sight; the Shinou thought he was insane, or at least blind, to be so taken by someone who was so clearly built for brawn that he should be lacking in other attributes. Fortunately, said physique was something of a bonus. Murata wouldn't be so naive to say he would have been attracted to Yozak even if he'd looked like Dakaskos, but having the wit to describe castle locations in words that were backward, scrambled and in a little-used dialect of northern Greater Cimarron went a very, very long way.
He had made sure to convey just how far it went when he'd found the spy.
Murata was already planning for the next time Yozak went off on a mission. Yozak would never let him live it down if his turn was any less complicated.
Even when their secret finally came out -- and it would -- Murata wanted the game to continue. Though he almost feared what the redhead might come up with should he have license to employ the entire castle in an effort to outsmart the Great Sage. Not just because it would be insidious and ridiculous and brilliant.
Aside from the discussion with Shibuya, months ago, Murata had not spoken of his "thing" with Yozak to anyone. He knew certain people knew of it, and it had not sat well with him all winter. The part of him dominated by the Sage's memories fretted ceaselessly over it, along with more mundane concerns like the price of salt in Rochefort and how that was affecting tax revenue coming from the province. He thought too much. He also worked too much, and was fortunate his companion did as well. Neither of them could criticize the other for being too involved with the kingdom's inner workings; as if such a thing was possible, at their ranks.
In the garden, Yozak set Greta down and turned, catching his eyes and grinning. He raised a hand and waved, drawing the attention of Shibuya and the others and Murata felt the usual fake smile begin to slide into place.
He stopped it.
The attention from the others in the context Yozak provided was unwelcome. But Yozak's gesture was not. The part of him dominated by his own memories -- that part that said it was perfectly all right to wear a camouflage-print Speedo swimsuit when trunks would have sufficed -- wanted to do something to respond, and damn the consequences.
Self-protection versus self-expression. A balance he'd been maintaining his entire life. And for the last few years, he had been operating with a negative balance in the latter.
Sitting up a little in his chair he blew Yozak a kiss.
Sir von Bielefeld rolled his eyes, likely assuming Murata was being goofy and showy again. Shibuya looked like he'd nearly choked on his tongue.
Yozak looked surprised, then grinned and winked.
Murata sat back in his chair and readjusted his cheek on his palm, and just smiled as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou!
Characters/Pairings: Yozak/Murata; Greta, Yuuri, Wolfram, mentions of Ulrike and the Shinou
Genre: Fluff
Words: 879
Notes: Cavities. @.@;;;
Part 1: Tea for Two
Part 2: Home Again, Home Again
Part 3: Cats and Bags
Part 4: Friend-ly Advice
Eight months after the fiasco with Anissina's "special" tea, Murata was back watching people frolic in the gardens. Though, this time, there would be no tea, and Yozak had joined the participants rather than the spectators. Sir von Bielefeld's batting skills had improved considerably, though the blond still seemed inclined to wield the bat like a sword. If he could harness that correctly, he'd probably manage to be a reliable line-drive-grounder hitter or a sacrifice bunter. But somehow, Murata doubted the young noble would remain patient long enough to master either.
Murata watched them all from the patio, chin propped up on one hand, elbow firmly planted on the tabletop. His uniform jacket lay draped over the back of his chair. The return of spring weather had been a blessing; that year's winter had been sleety and unpleasant. Just cold enough for a person to feel it, but piling a bed with quilts was excessive. And the maidens decided unanimously that the corporeal man of the temple should be the one responsible for clearing the steps and flagstones whenever they became too slick or during the rare snowfall. The Shinou's spirit thought it all very funny. Murata had quickly gotten in shape, but still considered the whole situation highly unfair.
Though, now he had an excuse to leave the temple on a semi-regular basis. His reason was always the same and always vague, but Ulrike instructed the maidens not to bother him about it. He hated asking for help in anything, but couldn't deny that she had proved infinitely helpful and discreet. She only asked for little bits of gossip, now and then, though never for the gory details. She was always particularly delighted at hearing about the seeking game he and Yozak played whenever the spy returned from a mission. Yozak's last riddle to him had been particularly challenging.
He smiled a little as he watched the redhead hoist Greta up on his shoulders; she was almost too big for that, though neither of them seemed ready to admit it. Although, he'd seen Yozak lift far heavier things than an eleven-year-old human girl, so maybe there was still some time left. Murata let his gaze wander over the redhead's sleeveless arms and appreciated the sight; the Shinou thought he was insane, or at least blind, to be so taken by someone who was so clearly built for brawn that he should be lacking in other attributes. Fortunately, said physique was something of a bonus. Murata wouldn't be so naive to say he would have been attracted to Yozak even if he'd looked like Dakaskos, but having the wit to describe castle locations in words that were backward, scrambled and in a little-used dialect of northern Greater Cimarron went a very, very long way.
He had made sure to convey just how far it went when he'd found the spy.
Murata was already planning for the next time Yozak went off on a mission. Yozak would never let him live it down if his turn was any less complicated.
Even when their secret finally came out -- and it would -- Murata wanted the game to continue. Though he almost feared what the redhead might come up with should he have license to employ the entire castle in an effort to outsmart the Great Sage. Not just because it would be insidious and ridiculous and brilliant.
Aside from the discussion with Shibuya, months ago, Murata had not spoken of his "thing" with Yozak to anyone. He knew certain people knew of it, and it had not sat well with him all winter. The part of him dominated by the Sage's memories fretted ceaselessly over it, along with more mundane concerns like the price of salt in Rochefort and how that was affecting tax revenue coming from the province. He thought too much. He also worked too much, and was fortunate his companion did as well. Neither of them could criticize the other for being too involved with the kingdom's inner workings; as if such a thing was possible, at their ranks.
In the garden, Yozak set Greta down and turned, catching his eyes and grinning. He raised a hand and waved, drawing the attention of Shibuya and the others and Murata felt the usual fake smile begin to slide into place.
He stopped it.
The attention from the others in the context Yozak provided was unwelcome. But Yozak's gesture was not. The part of him dominated by his own memories -- that part that said it was perfectly all right to wear a camouflage-print Speedo swimsuit when trunks would have sufficed -- wanted to do something to respond, and damn the consequences.
Self-protection versus self-expression. A balance he'd been maintaining his entire life. And for the last few years, he had been operating with a negative balance in the latter.
Sitting up a little in his chair he blew Yozak a kiss.
Sir von Bielefeld rolled his eyes, likely assuming Murata was being goofy and showy again. Shibuya looked like he'd nearly choked on his tongue.
Yozak looked surprised, then grinned and winked.
Murata sat back in his chair and readjusted his cheek on his palm, and just smiled as if nothing unusual had happened at all.