#ulkonja

“I can’t believe the committees’ delicate fingers managed to pick up a shovel.”

“Multiple shovels actually,” Shion supplied. “They did work hard, even though they didn’t really know what they were doing. All of this was due to the …effort of our volunteers. Their hearts were in the right place.” 

“Ah, yes, effort— the most important of all resources, right next to enthusiasm, whimsy, and glee.”

Shion shot him such a tired look that made Nezumi want to peel away his polite office posturing like the wrapping paper on a present.

“Truly, I can’t imagine putting a fence around something so selfless— the new city deserves to see such humble beauty everyday!” 

“We didn’t intentionally hide it. It’s important to wear our mistakes as loudly as our successes, but… well.”

Nezumi leaned in. This would be good.

“Well?”

Shion shut his eyes, admitting, “We actually received too many complaints from people who accidentally…fell in. There’s a ladder but— stop laughing, Nezumi! I know how that sounds, but this was a serious problem. We didn’t want to risk anyone actually getting hurt by the committee’s first volunteer-driven nature project!”

There were actual tears in Nezumi’s eyes. He struggled to catch his breath. “You should have brought me here months ago, Shion. This is groundbreaking, or it would be, if they could actually break through— wait, pardon me, did they try to plant cattails? There’s barely any water— you think they’d try to fix that first.”

“I really wish they did,” Shion’s voice carried the weight of endless meetings. “They thought decorating around the pond would improve everything that was wrong with the foundation. At the time I was busy with other responsibilities and incorrectly assumed our volunteers had consulted with and were working with experts in park creation. We do have nice parks, you know. Functional ones.”

“Those did not look like this,” Nezumi emphasized. “This is something transcendent. An exercise in futility, an art piece, a— ”

“—A necessary learning experience for a new city,” Shion finished. “When our funders saw what it looked like, well. You couldn’t pay someone to take the land of their hands. They wanted it razed.”

Nezumi’s smile fell. “I can imagine.”

Shion was still looking at the water, and Nezumi put one and two together.

“So, Shion, when you said you had land in the city, this is what you meant?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, ever stubborn. “So if you could stop making fun of me for it, that would be great.” 

This guy… Nezumi snaked an arm around Shion’s waist in tender mockery. 

“There, there. You made the right call preserving this place. Books shall remember you as Shion: noble savior of cattails.”

Shion grunted, batting Nezumi’s arm away— but he wasn’t lying, actually. Nezumi loved it here. This place was perfect: born from the city, yet growing honestly in spite of it, beautiful in its own odd, stubborn, baffling way. A lot like…

Shion leaned down to attempt to fish a plastic bag out of the water— he couldn’t quite reach it. He was so close, but clearly too proud to ask for assistance. This was the greatest day of Nezumi’s life. 

“Something to say, Shion?” Nezumi drawled, patiently waiting for Shion to snap at him or fall in the pond.

“It isn’t that funny,” Shion grouched, finding his third option— petulant grumbling.

“You are, though. Can’t believe all this luxury belongs to you,” Nezumi eased back, using a stick to lift the bag into Shion’s hand without any further teasing— a peace offering. “Here, unlike your committee, I am capable of using simple tools.”

“Thanks,” Shion replied flatly. “I’m sure that skill has been very useful in your life.”

Nezumi laughed, coaxing Shion closer in a playful side-hug. When Shion leaned into the embrace a new-yet-familiar heat warmed him to the tips of his toes. He still couldn’t let this drop without one more dig, though.

“Hold onto me,” he whispered dramatically, lips brushing Shion’s ear. “I heard on royal authority it’s a steep drop.”

Shion threw the bag at his face.

—

An hour later Nezumi was sitting with his toes skating above the water. Shion had dropped a lavender pill the size of a quarter in the liquid which dissolved with a sizzling sound and cleared away most of the murk. Good thing, too, as the very important city official was now waist deep in ugly pond and wading with devoted purpose.

Shion’s white hair seemed even fluffier in the spring light. Dressed down to his boxers, his red snaking scar was on full display. It dipped in and out of the liquid as he plodded around like a damp, sexy duckling. Nezumi had eyes— he was using them to the fullness of their potential. 

For all his embarrassment, Shion was good at this. Obviously deeply familiar with the malicious and weird ecosystem in the lake, he was encouraging it to thrive with brief, expert contact. The still-too-low water now shimmered and the stubborn surviving plants were greener and more lush than they had any right to be.

Shion prattled on about the impressive resilience of bacterial life with relentless enthusiasm. Between assurances that the pill wouldn’t harm any of the creatures living in the water, he managed to work in detailed explanations of how the bacteria wouldn’t harm him, either. 

“Orchestrated symbiosis, Nezumi,” he rambled, smiling wide. “We’ve made a lot of advancements.”

Nezumi hated that this was kind of turning him on. Shion really had no right to be so hot and so dumb and so infuriatingly brilliant at the same time. Something was seriously wrong with him, but Nezumi absolutely needed to get this conversation into more suggestive territory. 

Shion hadn’t gotten the memo unfortunately. He had a lot of opinions on water-based illnesses.

“There’s skin rashes, infections….Oh, that’s not even taking into account the parasitic organisms that can survive in water like this,” he babbled, looking altogether too perky for any of those words in that order. 

“And yet here you are,” Nezumi’s voice was a low purr— he was nothing if not determined in the face of impossible odds— “…Swimming.”

“Well, yes,” Shion replied with absolutely zero heat. “I have a great immune system!”

Nezumi questioned his place in the universe. “You’re the most frustrating person I have ever met.”

“I thought that was pretty logical, actually,” Shion countered, granting Nezumi a generous view of the wet skin of his back as he partially climbed up the ladder. “I’ve already survived the worst possible parasitic infection I could, after all.”

“That’s…” Nezumi began, and then gave up. There was no way to make this one sexual. “Not an incident I’m looking to repeat.”

“Me neither.”

At last, the conversation had finally waned— time to encourage a shift. Nezumi leaned back on his elbows. “You know, Shion—”

“—If anything, you’re far more likely to get sick than I am. I have more natural immunities,” Shion interrupted, and oh god, he was still thinking about parasites. “Well, probably anyway.”

He paused to shake the ladder, really testing the rusty metal in the loudest way possible. Wet, rhythmic thuds against the earthen wall filled the air. After a solid minute of this he released the bars, satisfied with their sturdiness. Nezumi pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed out very slowly. 

There was no salvaging this. He surrendered.

“Nezumi?” Shion asked.

 “Yes?” he replied, without any actual irritation. Shion was Shion, after all. “More enticing facts about parasites for me?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get in the water. You might not have my immune system, but if you get sick, I’ll take care of you.”

Nezumi opened his eyes, not expecting this opportunity, but refusing to let it skate by. 

“Will you now?” He drawled, carefully tilting his head back to show off the pale skin of his throat in a way he knew was alluring.

Shion’s eyebrows drew together, a puzzled expression on his face. Not exactly horny but this was a step above damp ladder shaking, at least. 

“I mean. Yes? I have medicine.” 

An awkward pause. Nezumi waited patiently, holding Shion’s gaze. He half-smiled at the slight flush that had begun to spread across his face. Finally, he was catching on. 

“What else do you have?” Nezumi asked, baiting the hook.

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that, Nezumi,” Shion floundered. Something stupid fluttered in Nezumi’s chest. “I didn’t really mean anything by that comment. I just thought it’d be nice to look after you.”

“Please tell me you’re not the type to fantasize about me catching the plague, Shion,” Nezumi teased, voice lowering. “You always did like playing nurse.”

Shion broke his gaze, abruptly shy. His ears were bright red. There it was. 

“Nezumi, I…” 

“Mmhm?” Nezumi replied lazily, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

“Are you trying to initiate something? This is a very weird place to do that.”

Now it was Nezumi’s turn to choke.

 “It isn’t that weird— we’re in relative private, and you own this ‘park’. Besides, the screen walls are dark and there’s a lock on the gate. You mean to tell me you’re not interested?”

“It isn’t that, Nezumi,” Shion argued, a little too quickly. Got him.

“Then why don’t I join you in the water?” Nezumi drawled, running his hand up his thigh to the base of his shirt. Swiftly, he pulled it over his head. 

Shion, to his surprise, barely reacted. His face was a disturbing neutral.

“Actually, I don’t know,” Shion said, voice flat. “You made fun of me a lot before and I’d hate to throw off the pond ecosystem by doing something so irresponsible.”

 That move never failed him; Nezumi’s stomach dropped. “You’re serious?”

“Not at all,” Shion said, swimming over, a pleased, sparkling, vengeance in his eyes. “Sometimes I want to tease you too, Nezumi. Now take your pants off, please.”

“Asshole.” Nezumi glared, even as his shaking fingers fumbled with his fly. “How is it that you’re perceptive only when it doesn’t benefit me?”

“I recognize your techniques by now, even if I don’t always pick up on them immediately,” Shion teased, tilting his head in a slightly clumsy way that very much matched Nezumi’s own bedroom look earlier. Nezumi flipped him off before shimmying out of his pants and underwear. Shion’s grin melted into something sweet and approving. 

“I still think this could benefit you, Nezumi.”

Damn him. “I suppose we’ll have to find out. Step aside, Your Majesty, I’m coming in.”

“It’s—”

“—A drop, I’m well aware, I think I’ll manage—”

“—Wait, Nezumi!”

Nezumi had survived much longer falls, but the frantic way Shion’s hands hooked around his waist was definitely something new. The fall wasn’t even intense enough for Shion to actually catch him—  Nezumi’s feet hit the soft sand of the pond floor in seconds— but that was clearly his intent. The stupid thing in Nezumi’s chest squeezed, and for a moment, he felt oddly weightless, held by Shion in his dumb, half-empty, pond.

“Nice try,” he offered, tilting his head. They were close enough now that he could only fondly stare into one of Shion’s concerned eyes. “I didn’t think you’d actually try to catch me.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to twist your ankle,” Shion replied, warm breath tickling Nezumi’s cheeks. “That happened to—”

Nezumi kissed him, as if he could do anything else. Shion’s fingers curled against his back and scarred-but-healing bodies pressed as close as they could in the damp. 

“Glad you tested out that ladder, I think we’re about to give it some use.”

Shion’s voice was all curiosity. “Wait, how?”

“We could theorize, but I think you’ll enjoy the practical application much more,” Nezumi teased, fingers linking with Shion’s under the water. “Besides, it sounds like I need to show you some new techniques.”

Shion’s wet palm slid against his, displaying all the clumsy confidence Nezumi couldn’t get enough of, as they sloshed forward. 

“I think I can show you a few too, Nezumi.”

Nezumi laughed, pulling him in.