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Asougi Kazuma is so, so screwed.
Not in the sense that he’s about to lose this court case, though that is undeniably true.
“Do you have any final objections, counsel?” asks the milquetoast new judge, and Kazuma briefly considers making a snarky comment about how he’s less fun than Jigoku, and then reassesses because Jigoku committed treason and it’s a bit of a sore spot for the Japanese judiciary.
No, the reason he’s screwed is standing 168cm high behind the defense bench, wearing an armband that used to be Kazuma’s and a katana that still is Kazuma’s in some capacity and an absolutely devastating half-smirk.
“No objections, Your Excellency,” Kazuma says faintly, and then grips the bench in an attempt to hold himself upright as that smirk broadens into something even more devilish.
Kazuma should, in theory, be used to this. He lost against Ryuunosuke in Great Britain, obviously. But he’d been telling himself that he wasn’t in his right mind—and, begrudgingly, that van Zieks was innocent, as obnoxious as that truth was at the time—so surely he’d be able to win this time.
But here he is, swaying a little on his feet as Ryuunosuke grins openly at him and the judge announces the not-guilty verdict.
“A good showing,” says Ryuunosuke when Kazuma storms his way into the defendants’ lobby post-trial.
“But I lost,” Kazuma says, still a little breathless at the indignity.
“You lost because my client was innocent,” Ryuunosuke points out. “You’re acting like this was a personal failing on your part, but that’s the wrong way of looking at it.”
I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for the truth.
Straight to the heart of the matter, once again. Kazuma kind of wishes he’d stop doing that, because it makes him feel unmoored, but also because it makes him really want to kiss that dumb smirk off of Ryuunosuke’s face and he can’t because they are in public, and also because he has never kissed Ryuunosuke before and doesnʼt actually know how he’d react.
“You’re still the better lawyer,” Ryuunosuke adds after a moment of stunned silence on Kazuma’s part. “If this were purely a contest of skill, which it isn’t, you’d have won for sure.”
“But you’re the better lawyer,” Kazuma blurts out, then cringes, because he was still vaguely clinging to the idea of impressing Ryuunosuke with his legal prowess and that’s not an option now.
Mikotoba-houmujoshi sighs loudly.
“Better at picking clients, maybe, but since you’re a prosecutor that’s out of your hands anyway.”
Mikotoba-houmujoshi sighs louder.
“Even so,” Kazuma insists, having apparently thrown all caution and intrigue to the wind, “your defense was… immaculate. You shine in the courtroom.”
“Kazuma-sama,” Mikotoba-houmujoshi interjects, giving up on more subtle tactics. “Surely you have paperwork to complete?”
“Yes, probably,” he admits, still staring directly at Ryuunosuke. “But it can wait.”
Ryuunosuke insists that they go for gyuunabe, and somehow, it gets worse.
The table is intended to seat four, and it would certainly be better, or perhaps worse, if there were four, because Kazuma still hasn’t broken free of his post-defeat spell.
“Well!” says Mikotoba-houmujoshi, when several minutes have gone by and neither Kazuma nor Ryuunosuke has gotten any closer to figuring out what to order. “This restaurant specializes in beef dishes, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Kazuma murmurs, eyes trained directly on Ryuunosuke.
“And you two used to get gyuunabe to celebrate?”
“Yes,” agrees Ryuunosuke, returning Kazuma’s look with a bit more aggression.
“Then surely we should… order gyuunabe.”
“Probably,” both Kazuma and Ryuunosuke say, not breaking eye contact.
Mikotoba-houmujoshi waits for a few more seconds, and then gets to her feet with a sigh. “I will order, then. And Kazuma-sama, you’re paying.”
“Hmm,” says Kazuma, and Mikotoba-houmujoshi takes her leave.
They’re silent for a moment longer, and then Ryuunosuke gives a quiet laugh and finally breaks their eye contact to look down at his hands.
“You’re back,” he says, even though Kazuma has been back in Japan for well over a week now, and they have seen each other every day since.
“Yes.” Kazuma is still a little giddy about it.
“And we did finally have that battle of words.”
“And I lost. One day I will win against you, I promise.”
“I hope you do,” says Ryuunosuke, and it’s very clearly the truth. And then he looks down at the table again, wrapping his hands around his cup of tea, and Kazuma finds it very difficult to ignore just how lovely a picture it is.
He’s back in Japan. And he doesn’t have to leave again anytime soon. And neither does Ryuunosuke.
It all just… makes sense. For the first time in a long time.
Oh no, thinks Kazuma, because he feels one of Those Urges coming on and the last time he did he broke a family heirloom. This urge feels different, though. Less murdery and more… romantic. In theory, this should be a good thing. But, again, they are in public. Their mutual sister is within visual distance. And, still, Kazuma doesn’t know how Ryuunosuke would react to an overture.
Worst case scenario, he reasons, Ryuunosuke sprints to the consulate to get himself a new passport and then goes all the way back to England. This is not necessarily as disastrous as it sounds—Kazuma, after all, has numerous British connections of his own and could probably find some way of re-importing his errant partner, with or without his agreement.
Best case scenario, he gets to kiss that stupid half-smirk. The likelihood of this ranges somewhere between ‘impossible’ and ‘improbable,’ and Kazuma has never been an optimist anyway, but this seems like as good a time to start as any.
“Kazuma-sama?” says Mikotoba-houmujoshi, and Kazuma almost knocks over his tea as he startles.
“Yes!” he blurts out, and Ryuunosuke exchanges a glance with Mikotoba-houmujoshi.
“Are you… well?”
Am I? he wonders hysterically, but the answer comes back immediately: yes, he is. It’s been a very long time since he was this certain of it.
“I ordered the gyuunabe, but I only have two hands, so—”
“I’ll help,” Kazuma says cheerfully, and Mikotoba-houmujoshi gives him a very skeptical look. He’s unbothered, though. He’s home. His sister is next to him, and his partner across the table. Things would have to go much worse than this to bother him.
The gyuunabe is retrieved, and it’s just as good as he hoped it would be. It scarcely even bothers him when Mikotoba-houmujoshi strong-arms him into paying.
“I will head home,” she says once they’re done. “Naruhodou-san, will you—”
“I’ll go to the office later,” he says. He’s staring intently at Kazuma again, in a way that makes Kazuma feel a little itchy.
“All right,” she replies. “And… Kazuma-sama?”
“He’s coming with me,” Ryuunosuke says.
“He is?”
“I am?”
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Ryuunosuke says to Mikotoba-houmujoshi, and turns to go. Kazuma has to sprint to catch up.
Ryuunosuke brings him on a circuitous route across the city, and every time Kazuma thinks they must be nearly at their destination, they take another turn down another strange unfamiliar alleyway. He toys with demanding an explanation, but Ryuunosuke has followed him to much worse and more distant places before; it feels full circle, somehow, to be the lost tagalong.
And there aren’t many places Kazuma wouldn’t want to go with him, regardless.
Eventually they reach the base of a hill with a dousojin next to a pebbled path.
“We’re going up here?” Kazuma asks, peering up the hill. The sun is just barely starting to set; it’ll be dark within an hour or so, and neither of them has had the foresight to bring a light source.
“We’re going up here,” Ryuunosuke confirms, then turns to him with a smile. “Don’t you trust me?”
Oh no, thinks Kazuma, because Ryuunosuke has him all figured out. Bringing trust into it? Completely unfair. Rude as hell. Incredibly charming.
“We’re going up here,” Kazuma sighs, and starts up the path.
Ryuunosuke laughs quietly as he follows along behind. The path is steep but the hill itself is not too tall, and it’s only a matter of several minutes before they reach the top. Kazuma looks around with interest. There’s a grove of maple trees that gives way to a patch of grass, and beyond, the city stretches out below them.
Kazuma frowns, because if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that— “Wait, is this…?”
“It is.”
Kazuma laughs under his breath, giving the hilltop another once-over. He’s surprised he remembers; he’s only been here once before, two weeks before they boarded that steamship and, therefore, about one month before he lost his memory. It was winter then. The trees were bare. He can’t even remember why they thought it would be a good idea to climb this hill, because neither of them was dressed for it and they ended up huddling together for warmth.
It was sweet. Simple. He’d thought about confiding in Ryuunosuke, and then didn’t.
It makes him wonder why Ryuunosuke brought him here this time.
“That’s quite the frown,” Ryuunosuke murmurs to him.
“Ah.” Kazuma shakes himself. “No, I—”
“I know,” Ryuunosuke says, smiling. “Don’t overthink it.” He walks to the edge of the hill and sits down, and Kazuma joins him a moment later, feeling unmoored again. He suspects he’s going to have to get used to it.
The grass is soft beneath him and the air is warm. It’s a nice afternoon. Sultry, if Kazuma wants to be poetic about it. And the sights and smells are all so nostalgic, and it makes him ache a little.
“I’m home,” he says, still a little amazed about it. There were more than a few times, over the past couple of years, where he wasn’t sure that would ever be the case.
“Yes,” Ryuunosuke agrees quietly. “You’re home.”
And Kazuma can’t resist; he reaches out and grabs Ryuunosuke’s hand, just for a moment. He notes with some satisfaction that their hands fit together very nicely indeed. And Ryuunosuke even squeezes his hand back before he lets go and balls his fists up in his lap.
It’s not the sort of thing that requires commentary. Instead, after a moment, Ryuunosuke glances sidelong at him and asks, “Is it strange, being back?”
“Shouldn’t you know for yourself, what it’s like to get home?”
Ryuunosuke laughs. “It’s not the same. Me being in Great Britain was only ever a proxy dream. For you, it must feel like… the end of an era.”
“Well, partly. But a lot of the era, as you call it, ended while you were still there.”
There’s a strange, sad microexpression on Ryuunosuke’s face, but he quickly hides it. “Did you learn a lot, at least?”
Not a subtle topic change. Kazuma hides a face of his own. “I did, though not really in the way I was expecting to. It wasn’t a normal exchange, seeing as we spent a lot of time rebuilding the judiciary.”
Ryuunosuke gives a strange laugh. “You’re welcome, I suppose. But it is practical experience, I think. Not to the same extent, but here, we—”
“Jigoku,” Kazuma says grimly.
Ryuunosuke inclines his head.
Yes. Jigoku. Kazuma wonders how Ryuunosuke did in his absence. Was it difficult? Did he have to shoulder any of the blame for what happened back in Great Britain? Was it selfish for Kazuma to leave him to handle it on his own?
Or maybe that’s the wrong way of looking at it. In fact, it’s certainly the wrong way of looking at it. After all, Ryuunosuke was the one who led Kazuma back out of the dark, during that long trial in Great Britain.
They’re both grown men who make their own decisions, regardless. Kazuma had his own work to do and his own goals to fulfill, and he knows, on a very fundamental level, that it’s safer for both of them to maintain a certain degree of separation when it comes to dreams.
And anyway, when did the paternalistic mindset ever work when it comes to Ryuunosuke?
Oh no, thinks Kazuma, because this is undoubtedly something that Ryuunosuke has already sorted out for himself, and it only makes Kazuma like him more.
Interrupting his reverie, Ryuunosuke abruptly asks, “How were things with Lord van Zieks, in the end?”
Kazuma pauses before answering. There are many things he could be asking. Did you learn from him is the obvious one, given the rest of their conversation. But Kazuma knows what he’s really saying.
“We were never going to be friends,” he tells Ryuunosuke. “There are some mistakes that are forgivable, and some that aren’t. And letting prejudice turn you against an old friend—”
He stops, because there’s an obvious point about Kazuma’s father that Ryuunosuke could make. Instead, Ryuunosuke sighs and leans back, resting his weight on his elbows.
“Yes,” he says simply, and they’re quiet for a while. Eventually he murmurs, “It was about time you came back, regardless.” He’s still gazing out over the city.
“Great Britain holds more for you than it does for me,” Kazuma admits. “I was the original exchange student, but—”
Neither of them feels the need to add anything else, because of course nothing went according to plan. Great Britain treated Ryuunosuke better than it did Kazuma, but even so… maybe it wasn’t odd that, in the end, they both felt they fit better back in Japan.
It’s such a huge topic, though. There’s so much to say and neither of them has the words for it yet, especially after being apart for so long. Kazuma sighs and lays back in the lush grass, and Ryuunosuke smiles down at him.
“What did I say about overthinking it?” he says.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Kazuma replies.
Ryuunosuke laughs. “Maybe so, but it’s still good advice.”
Kazuma grins and reaches his arms up over his head, letting them rest on the grass too. It is good advice. And it’s the first time in a long time that he and Ryuunosuke have been alone together. It doesn’t seem like the kind of opportunity that they should waste.
So they’re quiet for a while, but it’s a constructive silence. It’s the kind of silence that can only develop between two people who have figured out how to coexist without overexplaining themselves to each other.
And really, could Kazuma ask for anything more than that?
Oh no, he thinks, because suddenly there’s an idea forming in his mind, and it’s terribly inadvisable, but he’s not sure he knows how to stop it because That Urge is still somewhere in him. He pushes himself up on his elbows and glances over at Ryuunosuke, who… is now backlit by the just-setting sun. It gives him a nice sort of glow, and it’s wildly unfair, and is also not helping That Urge.
Kazuma tears his eyes away and looks at the city below.
Karuma is sitting by Ryuunosuke’s feet, and after a second, he idly nudges it with one toe. “I thought about maybe giving the hachimaki back to you, but I guess it’s a bit muddy now.” He smiles wryly. “I could get you a new one, I suppose.”
“I like it being with you,” Kazuma says, spurred to honesty. “Seeing as I was, you know, across the ocean.”
Ryuunosuke could have looked startled by that, but he doesn’t. It seems almost like he expected Kazuma to say something of the sort. “Still,” he murmurs, and lifts a finger to brush Kazuma’s temple. “It was so strange to see you without it at first.”
The touch is unexpected, butterfly-delicate. Kazuma was not ready for it, and he tries to hide a shiver. Ryuunosuke makes a small, strange noise—not quite a laugh, not quite not—and takes his hand back, gripping the fabric of his trousers.
The Urge is getting stronger, and Kazuma casts about desperately for something else to discuss. “You know,” he says, mind still on the hachimaki, “I let my hair grow a little longer when I first got to England.”
“I noticed, actually.”
“I wasn’t really sure why at the time. I didn’t remember anything, after all. But then I got my memory back, and I realized.”
Ryuunosuke smiles down at his hands.
“I wasn’t used to seeing my forehead. Which sounds like such a bizarre thing to say, but—”
He stops talking as Ryuunosuke turns towards him and lifts both hands to his face again, sweeping his hair back.
“It covers your eyes, though,” Ryuunosuke says.
Oh no, thinks Kazuma, because he was not prepared for the emotional experience of having this particular set of very beautiful hands this close to his face.
“Seems like a shame, that’s all,” Ryuunosuke adds, a bit self-consciously, after a short silence.
I can’t not kiss him, thinks Kazuma, which is not constructive at this particular moment in time.
Ryuunosuke’s expression changes almost imperceptibly, and Kazuma wonders whether his face is perhaps revealing more than he really intends it to. Ryuunosuke turns away, which is not a promising sign, but Kazuma doesn’t even have time to start worrying because Ryuunosuke makes a small hmph noise and says, “So I’ve now beaten you in a battle of words.”
“Yes,” Kazuma says cautiously, then: “It wasn’t the first time, though.”
Ryuunosuke nods, conceding the point, but he seems distracted by something. “And I see you still have the saber from Lord van Zieks.”
It seems like a non-sequitur, but something tells Kazuma that it isn’t.
“...Yes,” he says.
“Have you been keeping up with your drills?”
“What?”
Ryuunosuke is silent, and it clicks into place.
Incredulous, Kazuma demands, “Are you asking for a sword fight?”
“I’ve been practicing, you know.”
“And I come from a samurai family.”
Ryuunosuke gives a flippant shrug, and Kazuma is almost angry at how good a devil-may-care attitude looks on him.
“These are real swords,” he feels the need to point out.
“You wouldn’t injure me,” Ryuunosuke says calmly.
“Not on purpose, but these are real swords!”
“Then we’ll have to be careful.”
The rules of common sense and decency and not wanting to injure his partner are all telling him to say no, but Ryuunosuke still has that smile on his face, and Kazuma finds himself a cheerful and willing participant in his own downfall.
This downfall is much more fun than the last one, anyway. Less murdery and more romantic.
“Fine,” he says, and gets to his feet. “But the second I think this is getting dangerous, we’re stopping.”
Ryuunosuke grins and steps a couple of metres away.
Kazuma has made a serious miscalculation. That much becomes obvious the second Ryuunosuke draws Karuma, because he really has been working on his stance, and Kazuma was not at all prepared for the sight of his partner standing there, holding Kazuma’s family’s sword.
A Japanese man’s katana is his soul, Kazuma thinks wildly, and then immediately regrets it because Ryuunosuke is standing right there holding it.
And so is this what it comes down to? All those months ago, when Kazuma had handed Karuma over and told himself and Ryuunosuke a tidy story about not trusting himself with it—it comes down to this warm, unbelievable moment, atop a hill in the sunset like some cliché painting and Kazuma having willingly placed his soul in another person’s hands.
And he’s supposed to draw his own sword and act like he hasn’t just had the revelation of a lifetime.
“Well,” he says weakly, and draws the saber that van Zieks foisted on him all those months ago. “Let’s begin.”
He crumples immediately, which is probably essentially what Ryuunosuke was expecting. One swing from his family’s sword—his own sword, and he refuses to bring that thought further right now because of the danger involved—and he’s ready to drop the saber.
These are real swords! he thinks, and then, Why did I let him win against me about this, and then, I know exactly why I let him win against me.
He makes a half-hearted parry with the saber, and Ryuunosuke grins widely. It’s probably supposed to rouse a competitive instinct in Kazuma. Instead, it makes him feel even wobblier.
It’s all he can do to remain upright and in one piece. Ryuunosuke is holding back—advisable, given that they’re holding real swords; Kazuma has no excuse for having agreed to this beyond being catastrophically in love—but Kazuma still finds himself driven back towards the maples. It’s only a matter of another messy few seconds before Ryuunosuke comes around at an unexpected angle, sweeping in towards Kazuma’s right side, and Kazuma’s defunct instincts yell at him to drop the sword and he does.
This startles Ryuunosuke, and he yelps, and that startles Kazuma, who falls into an embarrassing heap on the ground.
It’s silent for a moment, and then Ryuunosuke laughs. “Aren’t you from a samurai family?”
Yes, and this would be a good time to defend the Asougi clan. Kazuma’s ability to engage in banter has come to a halt, though, because a few things have become obvious:
Firstly, the sun has begun to set. The sky is turning a little orange, a little peach, a little purple.
Secondly, Ryuunosuke is framed against this lovely sunset.
Thirdly, Kazuma has just been bested in a sword fight—or something like a sword fight, anyway—by someone he is very seriously in love with.
Oh no.
Did he do this on purpose? Did Ryuunosuke pick the most gorgeous sunset of the year to bring Kazuma up on this particular hill and hold Kazuma’s soul in his beautiful hands and absolutely demolish him?
Kazuma squeezes his eyes shut and then reopens them. The picture has become no less mesmerizing in the last several seconds. Ryuunosuke is still looking down at him, but his smile now is less predatory and more… gentle.
Oh no, thinks Kazuma, a little more plaintively than all the previous times, because he knows exactly what’s about to happen and he finds himself powerless to stop it.
“I think,” his mouth announces to the silent, still air, “that we should get married.”
“Pardon?” Ryuunosuke demands, the normal and expected reaction to a surprise proposal.
“Is that an I-genuinely-didn’t-hear pardon or an are-you-mentally-well pardon?”
“The… latter.”
Kazuma laughs, giddy. It’s all on the table now, and the broken tip of Karuma brushes against the skin of his throat. He waits.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you in over a year,” says Ryuunosuke.
“Yes,” says Kazuma.
“And before that I thought you were dead for several months.”
“Yes,” says Kazuma.
“And I have the tip of your family’s sword at your throat.”
“Are you going to murder me for proposing to you?”
“I probably should,” says Ryuunosuke, and Kazuma can hear the note of sudden hysteria.
“With my own sword, too.”
“It’s mine for now—”
“I bet a poet could get a lot of mileage out of that.”
“For goodness sake,” says Ryuunosuke, and drops into the dirt next to Kazuma.
“And also,” Kazuma adds, recklessly, “technically speaking, the tip of the sword wasn’t at my throat, because it is still in court custody in Great Britain.”
“Kazuma,” says Ryuunosuke, and it’s a laugh and a plea all at once, and Kazuma finally decides to drop the façade. He lies back in the dirt and smiles up at Ryuunosuke.
“So?” he says.
“Are you… serious?”
“Do I tell jokes?”
“Not good ones.”
Kazuma smiles wider.
“You are serious,” Ryuunosuke says, halfway between awe and something a little angrier.
“I think we should get married.”
Ryuunosuke gives a brief half-laugh and looks back out at the city, but his hand reaches out to find Kazuma’s. Kazuma rolls onto his side, taking Ryuunosuke’s hand with both of his. It’s not a delicate hand; Ryuunosuke’s got a smudge of ink all along his pinky finger and there’s even a set of calluses that Kazuma recognizes from his own hands, from holding a sword. It is, undoubtedly, a hand that is Ryuunosuke’s, and Kazuma feels quite confident that he’d like to spend a lot of time holding it in the future.
“We should get married,” he says again, trying not to laugh.
“This is a disaster. You’re a disaster,” says Ryuunosuke, and it isn’t the word no.
“I’ve done worse,” Kazuma points out.
“You’re proving my point.”
Maybe so, but Ryuunosuke still hasn’t said no. He’s drawing a pointless little circle in the dirt with the toe of one shoe, and Kazuma finds himself grinning again. “You should probably put the scabbard back on,” he says, sitting up and nudging Karuma. “Otherwise it’ll get muddy.”
“I know,” Ryuunosuke snaps half-heartedly. “I’m the one who was taking such good care of it all this time, remember?”
“Yes,” Kazuma says, feeling a little dreamy about it. “You did.”
Ryuunosuke looks confused for a moment, then his gaze softens. “And that’s… a Japanese man’s katana is his soul.”
“Yes,” says Kazuma.
“Yours,” says Ryuunosuke.
No need to agree. Ryuunosuke already knows. He stares down at the sword for a moment, then sheathes it with a hand that Kazuma is positive is a bit shaky.
“We should probably get married,” Kazuma says, and Ryuunosuke exhales, and that’s a bit shaky too.
He still hasn’t said no. Kazuma waits.
Ryuunosuke is silent for a bit longer, then he asks abruptly, “Why did you come back to Japan?”
It’s obvious. It’s so obvious where this is going, and what they need from each other.
“It wasn’t for you,” Kazuma says, and laughs, because it’s all falling into place. “I came back because it makes more sense for me to be here. And because it was always the plan for me to come back eventually anyway.”
It was the right answer. He knows that instinctively. It’s also the truth, and that’s the only reason that Ryuunosuke turns to him with an expression that’s half-smile, half-terror.
“You really want to marry me.”
Kazuma nudges a finger under Ryuunosuke’s chin, tilting his face up. “You don’t sound as angry as I would have guessed.”
“That’s—” Ryuunosuke isn’t quite making eye contact, but it looks like he’s trying. “We haven’t even kissed yet,” he whispers after a second, and oh, it’s all going so perfectly.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing that stupid smile all day,” Kazuma whispers back.
“You’re insulting me and you think that’s going to get you the outcome you want?”
“Absolutely horrible smile. Devastating on a spiritual level,” Kazuma says, grinning, and Ryuunosuke pulls him in.
He kisses so much meaner than Kazuma could have dared hope for. First they’re just sort of leaning in on each other, one of Ryuunosuke’s hands in Kazuma’s collar, and that’s pretty nice by itself; then Ryuunosuke gives him another yank and his hip bumps into Ryuunosuke’s thigh which is really quite nice indeed, but Kazuma is distracted from the niceness by a bright burst of pain in his lip.
“Did you just bite me?” he asks, delighted.
“You said my smile was stupid.”
“Hmm,” says Kazuma. “Aren’t lawyers supposed to only tell the truth?”
“And you also proposed at swordpoint.”
“Makes it sound like you coerced me into it.”
Ryuunosuke ducks his head for a moment, laughs. Kazuma pictures himself hearing that laugh for the whole entire rest of his life, and it’s pleasant. He’s almost certain it’s illegal that they’ve stopped kissing, so he nudges under Ryuunosuke’s chin again.
The next kiss is… warmer. Ryuunosuke moves his hand from where it’s still clenched in Kazuma’s collar, sliding it around Kazuma’s back, turning the kiss from less of an argument to more of an embrace. There’s an intimacy to the motion that makes Kazuma catch his breath in the back of his throat for a moment.
Then Ryuunosuke bites him again, which is still a little mean, but Kazuma wouldn’t want anything else anyway. And he’s a bit dazed at the warmth, the softness of hair next to the hard curve of shoulder, and above all, the quiet, awestruck sound Ryuunosuke makes when the kiss ends.
He’s not even sure how they’re staying upright, except maybe that they’re so tangled up that there’s nowhere for them to go. Neither of them has made a move to restart the kissing; Ryuunosuke has one arm around Kazuma’s waist and and his mouth just above Kazuma’s ear and they’re not saying anything but Kazuma is pretty sure he can feel Ryuunosuke smiling.
“Hello,” Kazuma says eventually, because it feels somehow right, and he can feel that smile widen.
“Asougi Kazuma,” Ryuunosuke says. He says nothing else, but he says it against Kazuma’s skin and that arm is still around Kazuma’s waist, and there’s really only one way this can go.
“So,” Kazuma whispers, “I think we should get married.”
“Yes,” Ryuunosuke whispers back, and tangles a fist in Kazuma’s hair. “So do I.”