#cranialgames

Fai had, at some point in their stay here, purchased a pole and while Kurogane had been seeing Syaoran and Mokona off had moved all of the furniture against the walls, leaving plenty of empty space around the pole that was apparently secured from floor to ceiling. Fai was leaning against it, smiling in an all too satisfied way. 

When Kurogane didn’t say anything (or leave like he should have) Fai took that as a green light to begin... Kurogane supposed he was meant to be dancing. He twirled and spun around the pole, moved his body in an admittedly enticing, fluid sort of way. The look he gave Kurogane was one that meant one thing and one thing only. As ridiculous as he was being Kurogane had to admit, if he ignored the awful music Fai had chosen the sight wasn’t a bad one. 

He’d let Fai keep going a while longer before snatching him away from the pole and pinning him to the bed. First, he wanted to see how much longer Fai could keep his hips swaying like-

The look of complete shock on Fai’s face was almost enough to have Kurogane laughing as he tumbled to the ground along with unsecured pole. Instead of laughing at his idiot fiance Kurogane only smiled and turned off the music player before offering him a hand up. “You alright?”

“Yes, a little embarrassed, but I’ll live,” Fai said, throwing the pole a betrayed look. “Sorry, Kuro-sama. Someone of the girls I work with at the deli were saying their partners really liked this pole thing so I thought I’d try it.”

Kurogane leaned down and kissed Fai’s forehead where an angry red spot was beginning to appear where the pole had smacked him. “The music was awful, but I was enjoying myself until you fell.”

Fai smiled up at him, heat still burning in his eyes. “Want to keep enjoying yourself in a more horizontal manner?”

There was a very big difference between remembering the past, sulking about things that could not be changed, and actual trauma. Kurogane had seen Fai go through all three.

There were days when he smiled at something— just a smile at a memory, a word or phrase that triggered something happy. There were days when he sulked— when Kurogane himself would mutter something and Fai would take it personally— when the inability to change something that happened years ago didn’t remind him of his helplessness in his past, but was something petty and quiet, and hardly an issue in the present.

And then there was the fear. The way Fai would pause and quiet. The way he would look away or withdraw. The way the memories would sink claws into his heart and refuse to release. Those were the days of heavy, grey snows. They were days of seeing half-starved children fight to survive. They were days of losses and pains and memories that were triggered by gods knew what. He had found Fai sitting on their bed, watching the snow fall in the streets outside. He had seen the hollow look when there were holiday decorations and images of happy, smiling families around them.

He had thought that Tokyo was far enough away from Fai’s home to help ease the pain a little. Kurogane had hoped that the joy he found in his own hometown of Suwa, at his father’s dojo and his family’s ryokan, would ease Fai away from his lost brother and his manipulative family.

It was on those bad days— the quiet days, filled with grey snow and memories of a cold home— that Kurogane started talking.

“When we run this place, I’m letting you handle the garden.”

“What?”

“In summer. You’re the only one with any sense when it comes to those things. But I’m handling the food.”

“You can’t cook, Kuro-chan.”

“Neither can you.” Kurogane liked having the chores as a distraction. He could dump a pile of sheets and bedding on Fai’s lap, and set about with checking off lists of supplies still needed for the guests. “You just make all that sweet crap that isn’t Japanese.”

“Our guests like sweet things, you know.”

“Foreign guests don’t come to a ryokan to get food they can find in any cafe.” Kurogane would wait for that little pout— the little telltale sign that he had Fai’s full attention. “Besides, you’re going to be in charge of the garden, not the guests.”

“Kuro-kun is too mean! I like the guests.”

“No, you like flirting.”

“Ah, so Kuro-kun is just jealous.”

“Be serious, idiot.” Teasing was a good sign. “Besides, you’ve been whining about decorations for months. When Mother retires, I’ll get you the lanterns you wanted for the garden paths. And that painting for the dining room.”

“And the kites?”

“No.”

“Pinwheels in spring?”

“I’m not paying for things you can make.”

“Then I’m baking cookies for every guest room that gets filled.”