This is where the flow has brought us

[hakanai]

WHO? Yoshitsugu Ōtani (hakanai) & Takatora Tōdō (handtowels)
WHAT? A heavy conversation needs to be had at some point or other, so Yoshitsugu encourages Takatora to talk about the Battle of Sekigahara before his dear friend gets too distracted (and too protective).
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris
ANYTHING ELSE? Talk of violence, death and some heavy emotional stuff.

***

It hadn't taken too long to work out what was going on with Takatora. Learning about the true nature of the flow of time, combined with how his friend had been acting since they had discovered one another working for COST, had led Yoshitsugu to a conclusion fairly quickly; he just hadn't brought it up yet. It hadn't been necessary and besides, there had been plenty of strangeness and odd battles to adjust to.

Now, though?

Sat at the desk in the small room he was currently renting, Yoshitsugu leaned back in his chair and tapped the table while he waited. The temper in this grand city was at boiling point, promising violence, and the execution he'd witnessed probably just the first he'd get to 'enjoy.' It was hard to remain completely unaffected, witnessing a man lose his head and the majority of the crowd react in such an delighted manner... Yoshitsugu was a calm and practical man, he knew what war and sacrifice were, but even he felt unnerved at such a display. Oh, he didn't show it, but it happened nonetheless.

Takatora had clearly been affected too but in his case, it really did show. Strongly. He'd been protective of Yoshitsugu before but not to this degree; the message he'd sent suggesting Takatora would be locking him up soon was only half a joke. There was a link, there, and it was driving his companion to distraction. Distraction was dangerous. They couldn't afford to be distracted in a 'war' like this.

"Over there."

He waved towards the food he'd collected earlier when Takatora returned, not even bothering with a greeting beyond a slight smile. Time to draw back the veil.

Comments

[hakanai]

Yoshitsugu's expression did not change one bit, but he stared at Takatora in complete silence for a few seconds before glancing away and switching his gaze to the window instead.

"...perhaps I should go and kiss the Lady of this house."

Raising a hand, he picked at the handtowel now securing his hair back and asked, in a serious tone:

"She's made it clear she would quite like to lay in my lap herself. What do you think?"

[handtowels]

Once done tying Yoshitsugu's hair back, Takatora's hands lingered at Yoshitsugu's shoulders. He wet his lips, anticipation drumming in his chest. His fingers curled just before Yoshitsugu spoke, as he half-shifted so that he could—

But then Yoshitsugu spoke, and Takatora froze.

He huffed as he let go and dropped back down, turning away as a stab of humiliation pierced him.

"...Idiot," he muttered, flustered, though it was unclear which of them it was directed at.

[hakanai]

There was only response to that comment, wasn't there?

"You can be."

Eyes bright with humour and fondness both, Yoshitsugu leaned forward and shifted enough so he could kiss his sulking Takatora's cheek instead. He absolutely couldn't help himself with his teasing, he really couldn't, but look at that flustering, that reaction! Wasn't it cute?

"I'll make it up to you by sharing the secret handtowel dance of the cats, now you've put one on my head."

[handtowels]

Takatora audibly inhaled at the kiss to his heated cheek, then turned back, helplessly drawn in.

"Y-you... Yoshitsugu," he said thickly, as his initial confusion gave way as he understood the reference.

It was suitably ghostly for his friend.

He smiled hopelessly, and spoke almost tentatively. Maybe because he feared to have it, but overwhelmingly, he wanted it.

Secret handtowel dances very much included.

"I'm idiotic enough to love a bakaneko."

This time Takatora took no chances and tilted his head up to capture Yoshitsugu's mouth with his own before Yoshitsugu could sit back.

[hakanai]

Fortunately Yoshitsugu did not intend to tease Takatora this time; he remained still, waiting for the inevitable second attempt at a kiss and happily pressing back into it. Not with too much force, of course. Simple and gentle was what was right in this moment.

Which made the experience no less good.

"You do have terrible taste," Yoshitsugu agreed after, quiet and obviously satisfied as he pulled back just a fraction. "But it's too late to hide it."

He pressed a finger against his own lips, looking at Takatora thoughtfully. It was absolutely true that he didn't deserve either of his two dear friends; they were both better people than he was. Mitsunari's dream was the one Yoshitsugu had been able to throw himself at, inspired by his more irritable friend's passion for it despite where it would lead, and he'd hoped to repay at least some of the kindness he'd been shown by doing this.

Takatora, though... well. It was probably impossible to ever repay him for what he had done, would do, for Yoshitsugu. A good death and a love that had never faded despite their separate paths? That was far, far more than Yoshitsugu had earned.

So he'd better make good use of this bonus time together, hadn't he? A little extra payment to go with his soul.

"You're well enough now to eat." Yoshitsugu dropped his hand and buried it right back in Takatora's hair. "Then sleep. You're exhausted and look terrible for it."

[handtowels]

Takatora, left breathless by the emotion he felt at their tender kiss, pressed their foreheads together for a long moment, smiling with long-lost joy.

"All right," he said, eventually.

This whole conversation had definitely left him feeling exhausted; his soul cleansed, his heart hopeful, but nonetheless wrung out.

So he would eat, then sleep, and face the coming days revitalised.

Beside Yoshitsugu.