Work Text:
-----
Kazuha examined the Wanderer’s stiff posture as he stood uncertainly on the thin rug beside their bed. These days, Kazuha spent a lot less time traversing the sea aboard the Crux, and a lot more time in the cozy wooden dwelling on the outskirts of Sumeru that he and Scaramouche now called home. Or rather, tried to call home - having both been wanderers for so long, it was still a foreign feeling to finally have stable roots somewhere.
Sunlight was currently beaming through one of their windows, waves of warm light rippling across the comforter of their bed oh so invitingly.
“What’s … a nap?” the Wanderer finally asked, in response to Kazuha’s suggestion, curiousity getting the better of his pride. It delighted Kazuha to see these little indicators that Scaramouche was letting his guard down and starting to be more vulnerable around him. Even though to an outsider, asking such a thing would barely warrant attention, for Scaramouche to ask a question was to admit he didn’t have all the answers himself, something he only felt safe enough to do around Kazuha and Nahida.
-----
Scaramouche’s body had no need for sleep, but gradually he had begun laying with Kazuha every night as his human lover slumbered. He was tentative and uncertain at first, laying stiffly next to Kazuha with his eyes wide open, unsure of where to fix his gaze other than straight up at the ceiling.
“Relax, darling,” Kazuha would whisper.
“What am I supposed to do with myself while you sleep?” Scaramouche would grumble in return. “This is so boring. ”
Kazuha was never bothered by the fact that Scaramouche didn’t sleep. If anything, it made him feel safer and more relaxed, knowing that someone would be watching over him as he slept. When he told this to the Scaramouche one night, grumbling was replaced with a look of awe and the tiniest sliver of a self-satisfied smile.
Kazuha knew the Wanderer liked feeling like he had a purpose. He longed to feel like he belonged somewhere, somewhere that would let him stay instead of casting him aside. It was a feeling that Kazuha himself knew all too well, and so he also knew that no matter how many times he told Scaramouche that he didn’t have to be “of use” for Kazuha to love him, to want him, to need him, the insecurity would still remain nestled deep down. Kazuha could feel how after he uttered those words, his lover’s body was now more relaxed beside him at night, his slender arms wrapped around Kazuha with a newfound determination to protect.
-----
Scaramouche would never tell Kazuha that it in fact had taken him no more than two nights to learn how to keep himself occupied while the fair haired boy slumbered beside him. He was more than content with the opportunity to be able to examine every beautiful inch of Kazuha’s serene face as he slept, discovering something new every night: a freckle, soft blonde hairs that adorned his upper lip, a new frown line that Scaramouche would make a mental note to give extra kisses in the morning.
-----
Napping in the warm sun was one of Kazuha’s greatest pleasures. Back on the Crux, he had a list of perfect catnap spots mapped out: different little windowed chambers and hidden areas on the deck where he could curl up and let the warmth envelop him like a hug as he drifted off for a while. Rain and thunderstorms had long ceased being a source of comfort. The sun, though– the sun dried the damp chill that he thought would never leave his core after all those nights spent alone, wet, and shivering.
Despite the fact that poetry usually spilled from Kazuha’s lips as if it came as naturally to him as breathing, he still hadn’t been able to tell the Wanderer just how much it meant to him to have a roof over his head and walls surrounding him that kept the rain out.
“A nap,” Kazuha offered, “is like sleep. But during the day.” There was no mocking in his tone, only the ever-present gentleness.
“More ... sleep.” Scaramouche looked completely unimpressed.
“A nap is different, especially in the sun,” Kazuha reassured him. “You’re resting because you want to, not because you have to. And,” he mused, “it’s warm.”
Kazuha could say the simplest things and Scaramouche would be hooked on every word, with the soft musical lilt of his voice that curled around Scaramouche, making him feel ...
“Warm,” Scaramouche echoed. He frowned, trying to recall if that was a sensation he had experienced before.
“Just try it, for me?” Kazuha walked to where the Wanderer was standing so he could wrap his arms around Scara’s waist and nuzzle into his neck.
“If you don’t like it, I promise you it’s okay.” He never wanted to make Scaramouche feel like a failure in any way for not enjoying human activities; he knew it was a sore spot.
Kazuha smiled as he felt Scaramouche sigh against him, knowing that meant he was triumphant in his persuasion. Scaramouche didn’t need to breathe; the sigh was just for show.
“Here, watch me.” Kazuha slowly peeled himself off of the Wanderer and walked towards their mattress. He rubbed his hand against the soft throw blanket that sat atop the comforter, humming happily as he felt the sun-soaked warmth of the fabric.
He felt a sudden moment of shyness at what he was about to do.
“Don’t make fun of me?” he turned to glance back at Scaramouche, whose eyes were widened with curiousity.
The Wanderer’s indigo eyes crinkled with a rare genuine smile as he replied in a soft voice, “Never, not you.”
Kazuha would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel special.
He began removing most of his garments and adornments until he was in only his base layer of underclothes. By now, Scaramouche knew that Kazuha was getting undressed for the sake of comfort, but the sight of his smooth pale arms and legs still made something tight stir in his stomach.
Scaramouche practically choked on air when Kazuha proceeded to stretch himself out on their bed, squinting his eyes shut and letting out little contented hums as he lay on his back and squirmed around in the sun patch. How could someone be so adorable?
Once Kazuha was settled, he looked over at Scaramouche and patted the space beside him invitingly, seemingly oblivious to the effect he had just had on his partner.
“Your turn,” Kazuha smiled. With his crimson eyes even more molten than usual, and the soft white strands of hair that framed his face practically glowing in the sun, Scaramouche swore Kazuha looked like an angel. How stupid of him to ever think that the status of gods was enviable when this ethereal human who laid before him existed.
It was terrifying, the way Scaramouche would do anything for this beautiful man. Yet at the same time he had never felt more safe.
The Wanderer followed suit, shyly removing his layers of clothing and climbing onto the mattress until he was kneeling beside Kazuha. Tentatively, he stretched out over the soft blanket on all fours, similar to how a cat would. He alternated between anxious glances at Kazuha to confirm he was doing things correctly, and looking away, as if that could protect him from being perceived. Kazuha stayed silent all the while, heart swelling at how precious his lover was when he was both excited but bashful.
“That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly, just as Scara was opening his mouth to ask.
“Stop reading my mind,” Scara grumbled in return, but there was no real bite behind his words. He did another experimental wriggle in his stretch, and soon a delighted expression replaced his self-conscious frown.
“Mm,” the Wanderer sighed contentedly at the feeling of tension dissipating from between his joints. “You were right,” he turned his head to face Kazuha, lowering his face to press it against the blanket while his legs remained in a half cat’s pose stretch. “It really is ... warm.” He rubbed his face into the soft comforter, marveling at the novel feeling.
Tears began to prick his eyes, and he cursed how this happened every time he discovered that he could feel something pleasant in this puppet of a body he occupied. He turned his face away from Kazuha in embarrassment, hoping it would soon pass.
“Hey,” Kazuha whispered. “None of that, no hiding.” He rubbed a hand against Scara’s back, feeling how the other was trembling ever so slightly. “Let yourself feel, love. Let yourself cry.”
Scaramouche let out a sniffly whine at that and turned back around, throwing himself against Kazuha’s side and hiding his face in the crook of Kazuha’s neck.
“It’s warm, Kazuha,” he whispered tearily, overwhelmed. “It’s warm.”
Kazuha just held the Wanderer gently, letting him stay tucked against him for as long as he needed. They lay intertwined like that, with Kazuha rubbing gentle circle’s into Scaramouche’s back.
“You know you can stay tucked against me as long as you need, even if it’s forever,” Kazuha murmured into Scara’s hair. “But it does feel quite lovely to have the rays of sun touch your face.”
After a moment more, Scaramouche slowly withdrew from the refuge of Kazuha’s shoulder and lifted his face, squinting briefly at the sudden brightness. How strange, that he could feel warmth, even though back in Scheznaya he never felt the cold of snow. It felt familiar in a way, a sensation coming from inside of him instead of the rays of light that beamed down on them. It was almost like...
The realization hit him all at once. This was no different to how he felt in Kazuha’s presence, in the embrace of Kazuha’s steady and patient love, each and every day. Scaramouche didn’t need the sunlight to feel warm; he already had his own personal sunshine by his side.
Words and emotions were still far from his forte, so instead the Wanderer pulled Kazuha closer, hoping he could convey through touch just how much Kazuha meant to him.
Kazuha let out a delighted giggle, and just as he did at night, wasted no time in wrapping an arm and a leg around Scaramouche, worming his way into every nook and cranny until the two of them were inseparable. Sighing happily as he felt Scaramouche’s arms tighten around him, Kazuha nuzzled into his chest, as if the warmth from his cheek could reach the spot below the Wanderer's breastbone where he knew Scara often felt an aching emptiness.
“Humans don’t actually feel love from their hearts, Scara. That’s just a silly thing we made up for stories and poetry.”
“What makes you think I feel love at all?”
“So you don’t love me, then?” Kazuha took a gamble. A ‘no’ would have been far more devastating than he let on.
He had never been so happy to hear Scaramouche go silent.
-----
It didn’t rain as much in Sumeru as it did back in Inazuma. It stormed even less, but even when it did, Kazuha could count on a pair of slender arms to envelop him when the crashing sounds of thunder got so loud that he couldn’t stop trembling, on gentle hands that would run through his hair to soothe him. Together, two bodies intertwined to keep each other safe from everything no one had been able to protect them from before, two wandering souls who had finally found a place to belong.
As the warm tendrils of sleep began to take over, Kazuha stole one more fond glance at the Wanderer, whose eyes were now closed, his face bearing a peaceful expression.
I’m so happy to have found a home in you.
-----