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Kentarou has troubles with sleep.
Sometimes he can blame nightmares, but more frequently than that he just can't quiet the impulse under his skin, telling him that it's not yet safe enough to sleep. It's a foolish thing—while life guarding Oikawa on his stupid quest isn't indolent and luxurious like he might have imagined as a pup, it isn't the constant danger that he makes it seem like.
There's light starting to creep in the room. He has no idea how Oikawa gets people to simply let them stay in inns for free every night, but the rooms are nicer than Kentarou is used to, and this one has big windows that face the forest. It's airy, spacious, and that alone makes his skin shiver with discomfort. It's too much space. He's used to tight areas, to trees on all sides, too late sunrises blocked out by leaves.
Next to him, Shigeru shifts slightly. They aren't quite woven together, with Kentarou laying on his back and staring out the window with a tired frown and Shigeru on his side, fingers curled loosely around the pillow. His other hand is reaching out across the blankets like he's searching, and one of Kentarou's ears twitches slightly at the change in his breathing.
It's not much, and even with his hearing he might not have noticed it if there were anything else in the room to listen to but the soft break of air through his lips, not that Kentarou minds it.
Still, now he's risking waking Shigeru up, and he debates sliding himself out of the bed and finding something else to do than chasing the illusion of falling asleep. He can't go far—even the part of him that still craves a chance to return to the comfortable familiarity of the woods is silent for the moment. It's almost worrying. It's the first time he hasn't wanted to run off since getting press-ganged into this stupid, suicidal mission for a country that isn't even his own.
He moves with the intent of getting up, just for a quick patrol around the outside of the inn, but Shigeru's hand extends further and catches around his arm. His grip is weak, but the surprise of it stills Kentarou regardless.
“Why're you up?” He groans eyes closed, pressing his face into the pillow further. His hair is mussed around his temples, more than it ever is when he's awake, and Kentarou has to muffle a chuckle. “Too early. Go back to sleep.”
He hasn't been to sleep. He can't settle, and his blood still burns too hot under his skin, restlessness burning to his core. Shigeru tugs his arm, insistent until he rolls to the side so that Shigeru's arms can wrap around him. One of his hands comes to cradle the back of Kentarou's head, stroking the black stripes in his hair, up to rub the back of his ears. They twitch slightly at the touch, but it feels nice, and he leans his head back slightly into it.
Shigeru's eyes open slightly, just enough to survey Kentarou's face where it rests close to his own, and he reaches a hand out to touch the tired lines around his eyes, making a small noise. “You look exhausted.”
He is. Or isn't. He can't tell anymore, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Can't sleep.”
There's a hum and Shigeru shifts closer to him, forehead resting on the top of Kentarou's head, stroking his ears, other hand resting on the side of his neck. His voice is a murmur, soft and warm, all the temptation of fresh sheets and safe sleep. “Close your eyes.”
Kentarou complies, even though the dryness of them burns when he does. He can feel the shift of Shigeru's expression, he hopes it's a smile, it sounds like one when he speaks. “Good. Just breathe with me, okay?”
They're deep and slow, and Shigeru moves one of Kentarou's hands to rest on the side of his stomach so he can feel the way the muscle expands and contracts, timing his own with it. It's soothing, more than Kentarou expects, and he follows the even pattern of Shigeru's breathing until he sighs softly.
“Too tense still.” Shigeru's hands move again and Kentarou peeks his eyes open to catch his slight frown, the furrow of his brow. He rubs at Kentarou's shoulders instead, an effort to relax his muscles. “What's got you so worked up?”
He knows, in a slow, dawning sort of way, why he can't just let go and fall asleep, but he's not sure he wants to admit it to Shigeru just yet. It's a recently realized piece of knowledge, something he keeps prodding at like an open wound. Kentarou wraps his arm around Shigeru's side slowly instead, letting go of as much tension as he can make himself, lips parted slightly, not sure what to say.
Kentarou is not like Iwaizumi. He's not like any palace raised inugami is—he wasn't born and bred to give his heart away and expect nothing in return. It's a terrible feeling like he's preparing to throw himself into a fire, to catch ablaze and just trust Shigeru not to burn him – and maybe it's too late to escape that feeling.
Maybe Shigeru will fall asleep again before expecting an answer. He can say that he's just worried about Shigeru's safety—strictly speaking, it's not something untrue.
But it's more than that.
“Ken…” He draws the single syllable out into three, whining at being woken up and not answered. Kentarou huffs, not sure if he's trying to sigh or laugh.
He doesn't know how humans go about telling each other these kinds of things. It seems—heavy for the moment like it should be wrapped up in ceremony and formality, not mumbled into the angle of Shigeru's collarbone with the sun making a lazy effort to rise through the clouds and above the trees behind him.
“I just wanna protect you.” When Kentarou had asked the first time, Shigeru told him he wasn't important enough in Oikawa's court to have an inugami of his own—more like a servant than a true noble. Kentarou doesn't know if Shigeru will understand.
It's a subtle sort of difference, anyway. Before, he protected people for money, out of respect in the case of Iwaizumi, but never because he had something that he himself wanted to defend.
It's subtle, in its way, but really it means everything.
“Oh.” Shigeru's voice is softer, and his hands slide from Kentarou's shoulders to lace together behind his back. He wants to stare him in the face, to see if Shigeru understands, but he's too worried by it to open his eyes. There's a little hitch in Shigeru's breathing, and Kentarou's insides squirm. “You can do a better job at that if you're rested.”
There's a pause, a moment before Kentarou's thoughts really catch up with maybe he's being told 'no'. Shigeru's lips press against his temple, voice soft. “I love you too, you know.”
It doesn't feel anything like throwing himself into a fire. It feels like Shigeru's breathing lulling him to sleep, like the heat and the worry melt out of him with each slow pull of breath.
The best he's slept in a long time.