(no subject)
Title: Diplomatic Immunity
Fandom: Loveless
Characters: Kio, Soubi
Rating: G
Agatsuma Soubi was a master of words; Kio knew this. Soubi could always choose the right word to cut him to the bone, working his throat to inflect it in such a way that Kio healed before he knew that he was hurt. The slight uplifting of an eyebrow, or the nearly imperceptible gesture of the chin could make Kio beg for more.
Kio was used to smiling around Soubi's diplomacy, but he liked to think himself perhaps a bit more observant than Soubi gave him credit for. Kio had become adept at picking out Soubi's different linguistic systems over the years. For their professors, Soubi adopted a submissive, apologetic tone. I'll turn it in tomorrow, sensei, he'd say.
For those terse text messages, he'd respond with confident words like anything or definitely or simply I love you.
For Kio, Soubi used a precise blend of sarcasm and firmness. He rejected Kio with a smile, or with indifference, always with that half-joking tone that invited Kio to assume the best. Kio knew that many of the kind words reserved for him by Soubi were borne of diplomacy, that he wanted to preserve Kio's dignity and so he chose a gentler frame for the hurtful things he would say. And Kio found that, in a lot of ways, he was all right with that. He was fine with Soubi's disregard and Soubi's coddling him like a child because mortared between it all was a genuine sort of affection.
Sometimes, Kio would witness a nearly imperceptible shift in Soubi's stiff, frozen facial muscles and he would know that he'd said something to make his friend happy. These were the moments that made Kio smile through the dull, constant ache. Sometimes, the things that made Soubi smile were almost as amusing to Kio as was Soubi's happiness itself and Kio took full advantage of the cracks in the brick wall. For example, Soubi seemed to like it when Kio got excited over a new chuppa flavor, so Kio made a point of dragging Soubi along with him to the store when he stocked up.
Another time, Soubi had commented on what a pretty, narrow waist Kio had, so Kio would make a bit of a shameless show of crossing his smock strings behind his back and tying them around front. Soubi had once even drifted slim fingers gently over Kio's ribs, waist, and hip in appreciation for Kio's efforts in aestheticism.
On Saturday nights, Kio would often feed Soubi take-out from the ends of his chopsticks when they sat side by side on the floor, backs pressed up against the side of the couch, eating right out the containers. Soubi would mumble in culinary pleasure (with maybe a hit of dietary guilt) and would ask if Kio planned on eating the plump shrimp in the corner of the box.
Soubi would always inevitably leave; Kio's hard work only bred the briefest moments of victory, but it was all worth it when Soubi would show up at Kio's door at 3 a.m. on a school night, a six-pack hooked over one pretty finger and ask if Kio planned on staying up for a while.
Kio could ignore the insults, the rejection, the warped Soubi-logic. He would smile and return the affection that Soubi gave so grudgingly and sparingly. He would be the one bright spot in Soubi's ugly world.
When Soubi wielded his harsh words (I can't stay. Ritsuka needs me.), Kio would whine enthusiastically because Soubi liked it, then shoo him out the door.
Don't be a pervert, Sou-chan, he'd warn as Soubi left, then he'd lean back against the door, taking a deep breath and pretending that he was immune to the ache.
Fandom: Loveless
Characters: Kio, Soubi
Rating: G
Agatsuma Soubi was a master of words; Kio knew this. Soubi could always choose the right word to cut him to the bone, working his throat to inflect it in such a way that Kio healed before he knew that he was hurt. The slight uplifting of an eyebrow, or the nearly imperceptible gesture of the chin could make Kio beg for more.
Kio was used to smiling around Soubi's diplomacy, but he liked to think himself perhaps a bit more observant than Soubi gave him credit for. Kio had become adept at picking out Soubi's different linguistic systems over the years. For their professors, Soubi adopted a submissive, apologetic tone. I'll turn it in tomorrow, sensei, he'd say.
For those terse text messages, he'd respond with confident words like anything or definitely or simply I love you.
For Kio, Soubi used a precise blend of sarcasm and firmness. He rejected Kio with a smile, or with indifference, always with that half-joking tone that invited Kio to assume the best. Kio knew that many of the kind words reserved for him by Soubi were borne of diplomacy, that he wanted to preserve Kio's dignity and so he chose a gentler frame for the hurtful things he would say. And Kio found that, in a lot of ways, he was all right with that. He was fine with Soubi's disregard and Soubi's coddling him like a child because mortared between it all was a genuine sort of affection.
Sometimes, Kio would witness a nearly imperceptible shift in Soubi's stiff, frozen facial muscles and he would know that he'd said something to make his friend happy. These were the moments that made Kio smile through the dull, constant ache. Sometimes, the things that made Soubi smile were almost as amusing to Kio as was Soubi's happiness itself and Kio took full advantage of the cracks in the brick wall. For example, Soubi seemed to like it when Kio got excited over a new chuppa flavor, so Kio made a point of dragging Soubi along with him to the store when he stocked up.
Another time, Soubi had commented on what a pretty, narrow waist Kio had, so Kio would make a bit of a shameless show of crossing his smock strings behind his back and tying them around front. Soubi had once even drifted slim fingers gently over Kio's ribs, waist, and hip in appreciation for Kio's efforts in aestheticism.
On Saturday nights, Kio would often feed Soubi take-out from the ends of his chopsticks when they sat side by side on the floor, backs pressed up against the side of the couch, eating right out the containers. Soubi would mumble in culinary pleasure (with maybe a hit of dietary guilt) and would ask if Kio planned on eating the plump shrimp in the corner of the box.
Soubi would always inevitably leave; Kio's hard work only bred the briefest moments of victory, but it was all worth it when Soubi would show up at Kio's door at 3 a.m. on a school night, a six-pack hooked over one pretty finger and ask if Kio planned on staying up for a while.
Kio could ignore the insults, the rejection, the warped Soubi-logic. He would smile and return the affection that Soubi gave so grudgingly and sparingly. He would be the one bright spot in Soubi's ugly world.
When Soubi wielded his harsh words (I can't stay. Ritsuka needs me.), Kio would whine enthusiastically because Soubi liked it, then shoo him out the door.
Don't be a pervert, Sou-chan, he'd warn as Soubi left, then he'd lean back against the door, taking a deep breath and pretending that he was immune to the ache.