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Yato manages to find a crevice wide enough for both of them and they take a second to catch their breath.
Ebisu slumps against the wall, one hand over his heart, muttering quietly to his shinki. Yato leans Hiiro, thankfully silent, against the cave wall and watches him.
He realizes the two of them had never spoken before he’d been assigned guard duty. He’s talked to Ebisu maybe a few times before, in passing, usually being scolded for something Kofuku had done and he’d been blamed for, but this is his first time with the current incarnation.
He looks exactly the same as always, which is the worst part of it. Yato never knew him well enough to know how often he truly reincarnates, so he has no idea if any version he’s talked to is the same as the one previous, and that’s a bit unsettling.
“We’re safe here, right?” Ebisu says, and Yato blinks.
No, they’re not safe here, they’re not safe anywhere in this place. He has no doubt that Izanami will be jumping out at them any second, creepy hair wrapping around limbs like vices and soft voice begging them to stay, stay with me.
“For now,” is all he says out loud.
Ebisu sags to the ground. “I’m not cut out for all this running,” he says, stating the obvious. “Even with my shinki’s help. I’m nothing without them.”
Yato turns sharply, but Ebisu is staring at the dirt. That last part wasn’t meant for him, obviously. The god’s face twitches, likely as he’s assured of his own worth by his shinki.
Hiiro quietly laughs in Yato’s head. He orders her to keep her senses focused on the mouth of their crevice for any sign of Izanami. She obeys, but he knows she still has one ear on their conversation.
“I said I would protect you, and I will,” Yato says. He doesn’t mention that he’s been tasked to do this, they both already know that. It isn’t about that anymore. Yato made a promise, part of his job or not, and he intends to stick to it.
He doesn’t even care about Father’s orders. Not at this point. He wants Ebisu to get out alive because he never wants to see anyone die in front of him again, not while he has any power to do anything about it.
Ebisu glances up in surprise. “The brush is the most important,” he says quietly. “If you have to take it and run, and leave me, you should.”
“I couldn’t give a shit about the stupid brush!” Yato hisses, only barely mindful of how he needs to be keeping his voice down. “Your life is more important. To me.”
“I’ll just regenerate,” Ebisu says placatingly. It just makes Yato angrier.
“You can’t keep falling back on that. Not this time, I won’t let you.” He jabs a finger into Ebisu’s chest. “I’m saving you. This you. No matter what.”
Ebisu stares at him for a long, long time. Even Hiiro is silent, watching, judging.
Yato takes a step back and clenches his fist. “You’re worth more alive. You are. Not your regeneration, not your brush. You. I will not let you die.”
Ebisu tilts his head. “But it won’t matter. I’ll just -”
“I just said I don’t care about your regeneration!” Yato huffs. “I care about you, the version of you right here, right now. Your life matters. This life matters. I will not let you throw it away.”
Ebisu’s mouth opens, then closes. He seems lost. Yato wonders if this is the first time anyone’s ever told him one of his individual lives was more important than his broader goals. It saddens him to think that no one ever had.
“You care about me?” Ebisu says quietly, eventually.
Yato blushes and looks away. Great, that’s the part he’s decided to fixate on. In his head, Hiiro laughs again. He’s got you there, she says, and he can see her smirk in his mind's eye. You’re letting your heart show again.
Yato feels a soft touch on his hand and turns back. Ebisu is staring at him, some unknown emotion shimmering in his wide eyes. His hand is gently brushing at Yato’s, as if he’s reaching out but can’t quite get the courage to grasp it.
Yato crouches down to his seated eye level and takes his hand firmly in his own. “Yeah,” he says, trying to play it off, but he’s entirely serious. “I care about you.”
Ebisu seems shaken, uncomprehending. Yato watches his face, taking it in like he hasn’t had the opportunity to do before. He’s always thought of the god as handsome, with his strong jaw and smooth, soft-looking hair, but had never really entertained the thought. He lets himself now, eyes roaming the lines of the man’s face, openly admiring.
For his part, Ebisu’s gaze flickers between trying to meet Yato’s eyes and his lips. He brings up his free hand to gently rest it against Yato’s cheek.
Almost as one, they both lean in.
Gods are no strangers to intimacy, but it is unusual for them to engage in it. Base desires are beneath them, and true relationships are a rarity, physical ones even more so. There is no senseless passion that drives them. Both Yato and Ebisu are very much aware of the danger that lurks outside their crevice, and the shinki that hover on the edges of both their consciousnesses. They acknowledge these factors, and glance at each other, and both silently come to the same conclusion: this is an intimate moment, they are both physically attracted to each other, and they do not expect the freedom to engage like this to be available to them anytime soon. It is now or never.
And so, Yato grabs a fistful of Ebisu’s shirt - not the suit, that’s the shinki and that would be rude - and yanks him close so their lips can collide in a frenzied kiss. Ebisu brings one hand to Yato’s neck and frees his other hand to wrap it around his waist. Ebisu’s movements are somewhat stilted, as he’s using his own power for this, but Yato pays it no mind. His free hand braces himself as he pushes Ebisu back so he’s lying on the ground, with Yato on top of him. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, both of them unsure but increasingly desperate. Yato guides their movements but it is Ebisu who deepens the kiss, then pulls back and takes Yato’s lip between his teeth, biting down. Yato gasps into Ebisu’s mouth, curling his hand around the curve of the god’s neck and digging his fingers into his hair. Ebisu responds by gripping at Yato’s own hair. He pulls at it, causing Yato to jerk back with a hiss, and Ebisu uses that to shift his attention to Yato’s neck, leaving a trail of sloppy bites. Yato growls, and Ebisu’s eyes flicker open briefly before closing again. The bites become sharper until Ebisu lands on one spot beneath Yato’s chin, where he bites down hard and Yato groans. Ebisu redoubles his efforts on that spot, and Yato arches his back, supporting arm shaking. Ebisu moves his hand from Yato’s waist to his ass and grips tightly, pulling him closer. Yato tears himself free of Ebisu’s teeth to bury his head in the crook of Ebisu’s neck, latching his own teeth onto the skin there. Ebisu gasps at the contact, both hands clenching. The hand buried in Yato’s hair yanks back once again, pulling Yato free and once again in front of Ebisu’s face, and he pulls him close into another stinging kiss.
She’s here, Yato hears Hiiro’s voice ring in his head. It betrays no emotion, and even with their connection he cannot get a read on how she’s feeling. He doesn’t really care, in the end. He is the god and she is the shinki, and there is no room for her judgement.
He pulls himself free of Ebisu with much reluctance. At his confused frown he elaborates, “We’ve gotta get going.”
Ebisu nods, understanding. He stands, brushing the dust from his suit and straightening out his clothes. His lips are swollen and a dark bruise is already making itself known on his neck. Yato doesn’t doubt he looks much the same way.
He doesn’t bother to fix his clothing, just grabs Hiiro and glances outside of the crevice. Sure enough, a thin tendril of hair is creeping out from down the corridor. He glances behind him once, makes eye contact with Ebisu, nods, and then he’s gone, leading the way, hopefully, toward freedom. As he runs, he replays those stolen moments in his mind, and dares to hope that this Ebisu will stay around long enough to do that again sometime, maybe.
Of course, he’s never been so lucky.
“Were we friends, you and the old me?”
Yato stares down at the wide, innocent eyes of the child and manages to find it in himself to smile. “Yeah. We were - friends.”
It doesn’t feel right, but that’s because it isn’t. Had they been friends? Not quite, but the potential had been there. There had been a chance, before they had clawed their way out of the underworld and everything had gone to shit. They had been something else, too, but any chance of that continuing is over. The odds of the two of them still being in enough contact to rekindle anything by the time Ebisu is back to his full adult self are miniscule at best, considering Yato’s track record.
He hopes the child didn’t catch his slip, but, as usual, he’s unlucky. The child is always alert for information about his past self. His eyes narrow. “Tell me more.”
Yato sighs. “I will. One day. I promise.” He’s broken enough promises to Ebisu, and he owes it to him, and this kid version of him, to make up for that. “But first,” He holds out a hand, “Want to get something to eat?”