I'm in love, I'm in love...

[bondsoflove]

Who: Sasuke bondsoflove and Warsman mouthbreathing
When: Forward dated to February 14th, sometime in the afternoonish.
Where: The apartment in sector 8. Or what's left of it, anyway.
Summary: Sasuke has perfected innumerable skills over the years. Unfortunately for Warsman, this 'romance' thing is not one of them.
Warnings: Self-pitying, fire damage, sap.


There were only so many places to hide a gigantic, hot pink teddy bear.

When Sasuke came back from his shift to find the thing in the living room, he'd panicked and shoved it underneath the sink, hoping that the plumbing wouldn't need to be adjusted until he got a chance to get rid of it.

He should have done it immediately, as soon as he'd seen it.

Warsman was good at keeping track of both of their schedules, and more often than not when Sasuke was at the apartment, Warsman was too--which hadn't been a bad thing at all, initially. It had been a very nice routine, actually. Warsman would cook, and Sasuke would argue with him until he agreed to leave the dishes; they'd sit together on the couch and talk quietly or read in silence. Sasuke might catnap a little if the night before had been particularly long. Evening would come, and Sasuke would roll off to work while Warsman went to patrol.

More often than not, Sasuke's longer nights meant he was still asleep when Warsman returned from his day job. And it was nice, being gently woken by the door clicking open or a hand on his shoulder. The trouble was, that didn't give him any time in the apartment by himself to get rid of the bear.

And it had to be gone by today. He'd forced himself not to go back to sleep when Warsman leaving for the morning woke him, waited for half an hour in case he'd forgotten something and needed to come back to get it, and then--finally--dragged the bear out into the living room.

It should have been perfect. He surrounded the thing with wet towels, gave it plenty of space, and breathed out a lick of flame onto its ear. It burned gently, but steadily--soon he'd have a pile of ash to sweep up and dump outside, as if it had never existed.

His mistake was arrogance.

Five minutes--five minutes he had his back turned, trying to get the chocolate morsels into the pot so they could melt and be poured into molds. It was fussy, though, and it required boiling water in a large pot and setting a smaller pot on top and he'd gotten frustrated, focusing so hard on the chocolate he stopped thinking about the fire in the living room.

And that was where his plan collapsed.

The tell-tale crackling of burning fabric hit his ears, and he turned in horror to find that the curtains had caught.

Drafts, he thought as he grabbed a cool pot and turned on the tap to fill it with water. How the hell did I forget about drafts? Into the living room, before the entire apartment burnt down--as he snidely told himself you know exactly how, you heartsick dumbass.

But he didn't have time to beat himself up now. The wet towels--he grabbed one and threw it over the grotesquely deformed bear to stem the flame while he used another one to beat the curtain. The smell was horrible; the bear must have been made of something plastic. The smoke was acrid in the back of his throat, and his eyes watered and his stomach churned. Damn it.

Curtains out. Bear next. He raced into the kitchen to grab the pot from the sink, hefted it to the living room and heaved, dumping the water over the fire. It sputtered and went out, leaving a pathetically smoking, soggy and blackened half-bear behind.

"Fuck," he said aloud, taking stock of the mess. There was no way he was going to get it all cleaned up before Warsman came back. Angrily, he pressed his heel to his forehead. "Fuck!"

With clenched teeth, he moved to open the window. At very least, he could try to clear the place of noxious fumes.

...Fuck.

[[this is the bear in question!]]

Comments

[bondsoflove]

The now-familiar, once-comforting sound of Warsman's heavy footfalls had made Sasuke's diaphragm seize--aware that he would pass out very rapidly from hyperventilating in a chemical-smoke-filled room, he leaned out until his hips were pressed against the sill to give his lungs a chance for some clean air. The steps turned into running; no doubt he'd seen the smoke and was panicking. Head swimming with guilt, Sasuke concentrated on warming the chakra in his stomach, holding it there and trying to make it flow into his muscles and relax them so he could get out of the window and atone.

One breath in, another out, the door slammed open and Sasuke cringed, tightening up again--in, out. Breathe, you idiot.

Sasuke had never heard Warsman yell, although if any situation would have justified a raised voice, this would be it. In a way, the speaking of his name in that deflated tone of voice was a thousand times worse. He winced, bit the inside of his lip; backed out of the window and put his feet on the ground, eyes trained at the floor, the wall, the corpse of the bear.

Anywhere but Warsman.

"If you break up with me over this, I'll understand," he managed, trying not to give in to the anxiety that rose in his throat at that statement. He'd been trying so hard, so hard to make up for that awful first night, the poison he'd spoken and never meant, and this was the result--tangible proof that Sasuke was shit at this, would always be shit at this; was a terrible partner, and Warsman deserved better.

(No matter how much the thought made him want to cry like a spoiled child.)

"I'll pay for a new apartment for you too. And curtains."

Don't look up. You deserve it.

[mouthbreathing]

Now that the smoke was starting to clear he could see Sasuke's eyes darting here and there but refusing to settle, like a nervy butterfly. It's enough to start to make Warsman feel bad already: he must have struck an imposing figure, striding out of the smoke and staring down at him with what could easily be imagined to be expressionless chagrin. One of the many downsides of wearing a mask was the almost total lack of control he had over how he appeared to other people, and he felt it more strongly now than ever. He wasn't angry by any stretch- perplexed, maybe, and a little exasperated, but...

If you break up with me over- wait, what?!

Warsman stared, catching his breath- and then immediately doubling up with a violent cough as he sucked in a lungful of smoke, waving a hand frantically in front of his face in the hope that it might clear the air a little more so he could speak more easily.

Leaning on the back of the sofa for support, eyes watering a little, he finally managed to choke out, "I'm not breaking up with you, I swear-" before breathing in and out deeply and trying again. "W-what on earth happened here? What is that?" His hand, lowered from his mouth, gestured a vaguely in the direction of the sad little huddle of blackened fur on the floor.

[bondsoflove]

I'm not breaking up with you.

For a second, Sasuke just blinked up at Warsman, drinking in that statement and all its implications like it was cool water on his smoke-raw throat. He still had trouble believing it--that he was wanted, sincerely wanted. Wanted enough that even a house fire could be forgiven.

And that hacking cough, born from a surprised intake of breath that was more smoke than air. Shocked at Sasuke's words. He was wanted enough that Warsman hadn't even considered it.

His face was hot, mouth dry as he watched and listened, the words clearer now. Part of it was still shame, which increased when he followed Warsman's gesture to the lump of melted teddy bear, but the majority of it was still a pleasant sort of shock.

He wants me around. Fuck.

"Long story," he started, chewing on his lip. His fingers twitched, fussing with his clothes, too nervous to stay still. "My boss sent it. I asked for advice because I didn't know what I should get you."

And admitting that made him flush deeper, such an undeniable statement of his lack of experience and ability in this arena. "It was hideous, so I thought I'd burn it and make you chocolate instead--"

The chocolate.

The chocolate.

"Shit!"

He raced into the kitchen and flipped off the burner--small miracle, it wasn't smoking or aflame, but the smell of burnt chocolate was unmistakable.

Hand resting on the counter, he screwed his eyes shut. "And I ruined that, too. Damn it."

[mouthbreathing]

'Long story' never quite seemed to cover what inevitably followed it up; it seemed like an unspoken guarantee that things were going to get strange or uncomfortable or both, and in starting things off with 'my boss sent it' Sasuke was doing nothing to buck the trend. Your boss sent me a teddy? is what he wants to ask, but more startling still is the revelation that he'd actually worried enough about what to do for today that he'd ended up asking for help. Prickly, serious Sasuke, lowering his guard enough to seek outside input? It's almost as surprising as it is touching, thinking of him awkwardly fishing for suggestions against his pride.

At any rate, whatever the bear looked like before, it obviously didn't meet his standards- and the thought that anyone would have standards for him is wholly alien to Warsman. Just as the thought of someone taking the time to make him... why does he look so frightened? What is he thinking o-

... oh. Warsman flinches, preparing himself for the worst, and then hurries out to the kitchen with him.

"... it's really not that bad, you know," he says eventually, putting his hand on Sasuke's shoulder. "At least it covers the plastic smell." With burnt chocolate, yes, but that was something. "And you didn't set anything on fire."

Hmm. He really wasn't doing much in the way of romantic comforting, was he? After a moment, Warsman gave a soft, self-conscious little laugh and let himself put his arms around Sasuke's chest from behind, resting his chin in his hair. "For what it's worth..." he says softly, "this is the most anyone's ever done for me before. I can't believe you've put yourself through so much trouble for my sake."

I'm so sorry for your inbox I just kept finding typos DX

[bondsoflove]

Touch of any kind still made Sasuke flinch and want to pull himself away, but he was making a conscious effort to stay put and it was gradually getting better. Easier. But it helped, and he sent some silent appreciation in Warsman's direction for it, to be warned with a hand on his shoulder before he was pulled into an embrace.

Breathe.

He took a moment, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back against Warsman's chest. For the millionth time, he remembered how significant the height difference was--did his head even reach Warsman's heart, or was he leaning against ribs hidden by muscle? Did Warsman have to bend over past comfort to use him as a chin-rest? Surrounded by warmth, Sasuke felt almost safe; was holding him a stress for fear of accidentally hurting what must have felt like a tiny, fragile frame?

He reached up and hooked his hands over larger wrists, grimacing. "Don't lie. It's horrible. And I ruined one of your pots."

Well, at least he knew what Warsman's present would be--cookware and new curtains. The thought would have made him laugh if he weren't so ashamed.

And angry, too, at the fact that this disaster was more than anyone had done for Warsman in the past, so he leaned back further to look up with narrowed eyes.

"You deserve better. Don't settle."

♥!

[mouthbreathing]

It took a moment or two for Sasuke to respond, but Warsman was well-enough used to that by now that he didn't have to overanalyse it as hesitance. Even so, feeling him soften back into him, the warm touch of smaller hands on his skin, made for a curious kind of victory- one of physical intimacy, a willing closeness he didn't ever let himself hope he might one day find. It might have been silly to linger on a single embrace, perhaps, but he'd never have had the heart or the courage to initiate this kind of closeness before. And yet here he was now, arms wound lightly and confidently around Sasuke's shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

What he felt was immensely peaceful, even in a health-hazard of an apartment. "I'm not lying. Maybe you could have handled things a little better, but..." He trailed off, trying to figure out a way to finish the sentence. 'But at least all of the walls are intact'? 'No one got hurt'? "... but at least the fire alarms didn't go off."

Which really, when he thought about it, wasn't exactly the best news in the world either, since it meant they were probably broken and likely to fail him in an actual fire- but it wouldn't have done to think about that too much.

He let Sasuke wriggle back a little, lifting his chin so that he could look back down; with his head cocked to the side the look was almost avian on Warsman, gaze trained attentively onto his face as though he were about to deliver instructions for a party trick. "I'm not settling," he answered, tightening the embrace to a gentle squeeze for a moment- and then, on a sudden playful impulse, added: "Stop being so dramatic. It's a good excuse to get out of the apartment."

OUT OF NOWHERE, A WILD TAG APPEARS

[bondsoflove]

Other people found Warsman's mask unreadable, cold, strange. Threatening, even. Sasuke saw it as a blank page, filling in around the edges and the eyes with hints of expression; that, combined with body language, made him register it as an unconventional face rather than a stony facade. And things like this, the slight cocking of his head like he was a wary but curious sparrow peering in from a distance, were especially readable.

Sasuke ventured to think it was cute, actually, and it made his face go warm and certainly pink, but he hadn't managed to let go of enough pride to voice it quite yet. Instead, he responded to the squeeze by wrapping his arms fully around Warsman's and squeezing back, taking a moment to breathe and close his eyes and take in a little of the comfort.

He cracked his eye open at the jibe, though, and met it with a wrinkled nose and an expression bordering on a pout. "I'll be as dramatic as I want to. I don't think I've ever fucked anything up as spectacularly as this."

Which was true. He wasn't used to making mistakes at all, let alone total failure, but somehow...the shame was abating, and seemed to have been less intense than it might have otherwise. Then again, he wasn't used to failure being forgivable, either.

But his throat was starting to sting from the smoke, and so getting out of the apartment switched to the front of his head. "They're probably booked solid, but I can try to comp a room at the Uzushio if there are any unfilled."

[mouthbreathing]

'Cute' wasn't a description Warsman would ever have put to himself in a million years- but it certainly seemed to match the chagrined look Sasuke was aiming in his direction. If he was trying to get him to take his self-pity seriously he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"If this is the worst you've done," Warsman answered musingly, "you've done a lot better than the rest of us." Which made sense, for someone as serious as Sasuke was. He had more than a little of the perfectionist about him, the same kind of intense determination he'd so often seen in Ramenman or Robin, and heavenly only knew they weren't used to making mistakes either.

He pried his arms away from Sasuke and moved back so that he could look at him properly, letting one hand linger on his shoulder. "The Uzushio...?" He'd never been there personally- other than being the place where his partner worked, it meant next to nothing to him- but by all accounts it was a nice place to stay. In the back of his mind he could feel an uneasy pressure building at the thought of the logistics (one room or two? Did it 'mean' anything?) but he made himself sweep them aside in favour of the positives.

"That would be nice, even if only for the night. We could always just leave the windows open and go out for a while if it came to it, though," he offered. The plastic smell would haunt the place for a few days yet, but a few hours would clear it out enough to make the place habitable again. Warsman paused. "I mean it, you know. Please don't beat yourself up about it. It's fine."

[bondsoflove]

If he were younger, the praise would certainly have made him blush and likely turn away, stiff and swimming in too many emotions to sort through comfortably. Although he's nowhere close to being apt, he's still improved in the area of identifying his emotions, and although being able to label them doesn't make them any easier to handle, it's a step. In this moment, it's anger and embarrassment at the surface, doubt and self-hatred a little further down; somewhere in the bottom of his stomach is the feeling of one of his many voids blooming open and turning upwards like a flower trying to drink in the sun.

That's the one he holds onto, even though the feelings on the surface roil with discontent as he pulls it upwards--although it's the most complicated and by far the most difficult to deal with, it's the only one that isn't barbed and that means it's the only one that's acceptable to share.

It vies with a childish disappointment at the breaking of the hold--suddenly, he's chilled, and he realizes it's not just because of the cessation of touch. Though the open window does help to clear out the fumes, it also lets in the wintry air.

"I don't want to sleep in a cold apartment," he mutters, chewing on the raw spot inside his lip. Then spoken tenderness blindsides him again and petals shiver and spread--the hand on his shoulder is pleasantly heavy, anchoring him through the unnerving process of making eye contact.

He gives a sigh. "I'm bad at this. I just--I wanted to do something right by you, for once."

But in the midst of his disappointment with himself, he manages something approaching a smile.

Still wanted. Still here. And he has another chance.

That, and the idea of slipping into steaming water for a while is more than a little appealing after the day he's had.

"Have you ever been to an onsen?" he asks. "Honestly, I think we could both use some decompression."