Heaven for climate (Challenge #23)
Heaven for climate
Author: macavitykitsune
Prompt: #23 Secret fantasies
Pairing: 10KG
Rating: G (ha ha).
Summary: Heaven for climate, hell for society. But he can wait to die.
'It's a lovely night,' Tenpou observes quietly. For once, he isn't reading. Of course, there's probably a book in the pockets of his labcoat - his paperback security blanket - but at least he's paying attention to what's going on around him even though he doesn't actually have to.
'Mm,' Kenren says. He probably can't be bothered to form full sentences right now, he's entirely too comfortable sprawled on the grass next to Tenpou's legs, shirtless even though the spring breeze is making him shiver. 'Mphm. Fish.'
Tenpou interprets this flawlessly. 'No, I'm not going to go fishing by moonlight. Or spend two hours sneaking terrapins into the Emperor's koi pond, thank you.' That makes Kenren glares up at him, but Tenpou's looking away already, safe from it. Not that it would faze him anyway. 'I'm a little too old for those antics.'
'Senile.'
'No, no, I'm only too old by comparison.'
That provokes a pout. ''m not a kid.'
Tenpou hums absently in reply. Not really listening; he can converse on autopilot. It's all very familiar, intimate, the brief touches, not seeking reassurance as much as affirming each others' presence; I'm here, you're here, together. There is infinity in those gestures, a promise in the sweep of Tenpou's hand through Kenren's spiky hair, in the way Kenren catches it and presses a quiet kiss to the palm.
The wine isn't much help on these nights.
The cycle draws on, for dragonkind as well as mortals. Four hundred years, and he can sense time speeding up for him. Were he still earthbound he would have passed on already. But something in him whispers a little longer, and he waits, listening. It can't last long, of course.
Goujun rises slowly, quietly. More the predator than he used to seem. To stand true to themselves was one thing they knew, and it is all he has left of them. Memories, heartache, sorrow, nameless longing, and fierce passionate pride. And moonlit nights in the eternal spring.
They don't look up when he leaves. Or maybe they did, after all. He wouldn't know. He's learnt not to look back.