Yoritomo is...old, and tired. His head aches where his scar lays. He has more than his fair share of other aches and pains less noticeable when he’s wearing his coat and uniform; the job helps, keeps his focus outside of the pain.
The day is sunny and brisk but that doesn’t mean he’s having a good day. Not a bad day either. Just...a confusing day.
“Yoritomo.” Linwood says, the dragon slayer, and not just of regular dragons. The one who has already killed several dozen normal dragons and another High Dragon. Who knows, maybe Yoritomo’s missed another kill while he was away. Still, he’s a kid, or well, not kid, he still looks young, too young to be killing beasts of legends. Purple hair, a butler uniform of all things, and a smile that makes Yoritomo’s chest squeeze tight.
Far too pretty. Far too good for someone like Yoritomo. Definitely a blessing and a curse. No one has ever done as much in terms of dealing with the Dragons in their current time period, even Yoritomo’s own Division can’t compare.
“Unit--” Yoritomo pauses when he realizes the others aren’t with Linwood. They are almost like ghosts, following whoever is the leader (which seems to vary based on the skill-set needed, and the seamless teamwork is a little..eerie). “Ah...Linwood.”
Linwood smiles and there’s a sudden swoop in Yoritomo’s belly, “Business or pleasure?”
No one should be able to say that with such a straight face. Yoritomo doesn’t even know how to take it—there was that moment where he thought Linwood was leaning in for a kiss; right after being saved by the man. Which had turned into the kid ripping a Dragon into pieces.
The camaraderie out in the field that makes it a lot easier than it should be to grow closer with the Dragon Slayers. Hell, Linwood and his peers have been good to his daug---the girl. At least someone has, a part of Yoritomo’s mind thinks viciously stabbing himself on the inside, and twisting that delicate-blade like thought.
A light tap of fingers against Yoritomo’s shoulder shakes him from his thoughts. Briefly Yoritomo remembers several times when those same fingers obliterated a Dragon. He doesn’t think it should turn him on as much as it does. “Just—Just checking in.” Yoritomo stutters out, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind.
Linwood smiles at him and nods, “I suppose you would.”
Slight fear runs down Yoritomo’s spine. Does the God Hand know? Know that the girl—no, Yoritomo hasn’t been obvious, no one should know not even the girl herself. He shakes himself before he can get absorbed into his thoughts again, “You are young yet.” He doesn’t mean for it to sound admonishing but it still curls and sounds harsh against his tongue.
Another sheepish grin, the one that Yoritomo seems to get whenever he tries scolding Unit Thirteen, “Not that young.” Linwood leans closer, and too close, “We can discuss what you consider is too young at the Sky Lounge. Just built and finished recently.”
Somehow that feels like a trap, but Yoritomo’s still reeling over how close the God Hand is, and how his hands are suddenly against Yoritomo’s waist. Tightly swallowing, Yoritomo tries to keep eye contact with Linwood—it’s harder than he would like to admit, “I have things to do,” He winces at Linwood’s pout, and breaks under the gaze like a wet paper towel, “I guess...one drink wouldn’t hurt.”
A bright smile makes Yoritomo feel played, but it’s too late, a strong hand takes his wrist in a firm grip (could he escape from that grip? No inappropriate thoughts). Moments later they are transported to the Sky Lounge floor. Yoritomo feels dizzy and he’s grateful for Linwood’s strength—he’s not sure if he will ever get used to that teleportation tech.
Drinks are quickly brought to them, and Yoritomo doesn’t know if that’s just how quick the service is or if it’s because he’s with Unit 13’s leader. Either way it gives him something to focus on other than the man in front of him.
Linwood clears his throat and says softly, “She’s doing well, a great guide for us.” He says cheerfully.
Yoritomo freezes and almost breaks the glass in his hands—he’s no God Hand, but he’s a master of the sword which means his strength is no laughing matter. “She is?” He finally says dryly when it appears that Linwood is waiting for a response.
A small smile, purple hair blocking most of his upper face, “Yeah. She’s very strong considering...”
“Dragonsbane.” Yoritomo swallows.
“Yes.” Linwood agrees, he tilts his drink and looks up so his eyes are visible. Meeting Yoritomo’s gaze, “She doesn’t want us to know, but she’s pushing through it.”
“Thank you for looking out for her.” Yoritomo says, and he means it. There’s not many things he feels like he’s utterly failed at, but. But his daughter? He’s failed more than he would ever make up for.
“Of course.” Linwood agrees with a hitch of his shoulder. “I think she would like to see you, just a thought.” He adds the last part quickly when whatever expression crosses Yoritomo’s face appears (Hell if he can tell other than how tight his cheeks and mouth feel). With a quick gulp of his drink Linwood says, “So our team is clearing out the dragons in...”
Changing the subject very obviously, but Yoritomo accepts the proffered olive branch. He’s not sure if he even deserves it, but he takes it. Listening intently to the shenanigans that Unit 13 get into is oddly soothing.
Before long they’ve had several drinks, trading and sharing some of them because the menu has very...colorful names (and Linwood is nothing if not convincing), and somewhere along the way Linwood’s large muscular hand winds it’s way against Yoritomo’s palm.
Yoritomo doesn’t quite realize it until he feels his fingers twitch against calloused skin. He swallows tightly at their interlaced fingers and looks up at the God Hand.
“Not a bad date, is it Yoritomo?”
There’s that damn smile again, no it’s a grin now, and Yoritomo can’t help the way his whole being softens. Maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve any type of kindness, but he wants it. “Not at all.”
When Linwood leans over and kisses Yoritomo.
Well, the God Hand has already pulled Yoritomo around, a little more won’t hurt. Yoritomo kisses back, closing his eyes and feeling the contact of another man and groaning. His fingers clenching against Linwood’s and pulling him closer.
As if to say, don’t leave, don’t let this end.