Chapter Text
They head right for the tent when they get back into camp. It’s full-dark by this point, and the fire beckons, a beacon of warmth in a night that’s turned surprisingly cool, the wind picking up from the west. The guys all beckon too as soon as they notice Sousuke emerging from the woods, followed by Haru. Unsurprisingly, Kisume’s the first one to spot them. “Ahhh! So you decided to come back to us after all! You know, we really don’t bite … unlike some people,” he calls out, then laughs at his own blinding witticism as Sousuke glances back at Haru. In the dark, it’s impossible to tell he was just weeping like his soul was practically coming out of him … but Sousuke has his face memorized, and Haru looks like he’s allergic to the whole damn lake, eyes puffed and cheeks flushed.
“Donkey-fucker,” Haru tells Sousuke conversationally, and he involuntarily brays-out a (very donkey-like) laugh, is still shaking his head helplessly as he unzips the door for Haru. He bypasses the tent and heads for the kitchen, rooting in the food bag for the trail mix, the fish jerky he knows Haru has a soft-spot for. Tonight he’ll make up for the dinner that was pretty much robbed him in the privacy of the tent, with the chance of a bear attack way outweighed by the certainty of Haru needing comfort … and food a sure-fire way to get it.
As he heads back with Haru’s goodies, the food bag re-stowed, a chorus of good-natured protest rises from the fire. “Bed already? Hey, Sou-man, this whiskey ain’t drinking itself!” Sei roars, as Momo giggles uncontrollably and Rin’s wheezing something that sounds like “fuckin’-A.” Makoto’s quiet but smiling enticingly.
“Nah, thanks guys. It’s been a pretty intense day and we’re beat. You have a good time for us,” he says before heading in, the cozy and familiar Haru-getting-ready-for-bed sounds drifting out through the open door. “Good night.”
Kisume, of course, isn’t done.
Will apparently NEVER be done.
“…If the tent’s a-rockin’, we just might come knockin’, Sousuke. Just a head’s-up,” he sends over, big smile unaffected, but the edge of threat dancing sharply around his voice.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little sexual deviant,” he somehow manages to coo right back, fluttering his eyelashes – and as the other guys bust out laughing, as Sei claps the scowling little fuckface sympathetically on the shoulder, Sousuke marvels at himself. He’s found a loophole to Haru’s wish, it seems. He can be as shitty to Kisume (read: as much like Haru would like to be) as he wants, couch it as taking the piss out of the guy, and they’ll be just fine. And that will apply to curtailing his less-savory attempts at Haru, too.
Feeling better than he has all evening, more useful, he ducks inside their little tent and yanks the zipper closed, crawls to his side and nestles in. Haru’s got their little tent-lantern lit, the one that holds a single long-burning candle in its tempered-glass house and that he privately loves, that he thinks makes the tent an almost womblike sanctuary for them both, desperately romantic. And he always laughs at himself whenever he indulges in that totally mawkish thought. Apparently he’s a big sap after all … or maybe Haru turned him into one, somewhere along the way.
“Told the resident sexual deviant off?” Haru says quietly, pulling his oversized sleeping shirt with its silly cartoon fish over his head, popping back into view.
“…and GOD it felt good,” Sousuke gusts, tossing the trail mix and jerky bags to Haru, who catches them neatly. “Hey, you got totally screwed out of a decent dinner and it was all my fault. I could’ve cooked you up something, even. Shows you where my fool head was at. So I hope this will be OK to tide you over until tomorrow when we can get back to eating properly.”
Haru’s just smiling at him again, his real, tiny smile that should clash violently with his sad-puffed eyes and discolored cheeks, but somehow looks just right, may be the most-beautiful look Haru’s ever given him. Because Haru’s just relived hell. Fucking true-blue hell, that curdled Sousuke’s blood to just hear … and Haru, somehow this little man you would think has no inner strength, no perseverance, given the shaky foundation he had to work with even before the blast … somehow he made it through something that should’ve robbed the light from his eyes, turned his jet hair white, stolen his ability to ever be touched intimately by another person again. Should’ve annihilated his very soul.
But he not only survived it – he fucking trounced what circumstance and evil luck had done to him, what trap his own questionable choices and need for some kind of acceptance and love had caught him in. He’s deeply, terribly flawed in ways Sousuke is now beginning to understand; and somehow, in minutes, his love for Haru has changed, has been transmuted. It’s definitely still the from-the-gut all-consuming possession of an alpha towards his omega. But it’s almost like just a simple look at Haru, as he curls up with the giant trail mix bag in his lap hunting through for the wasabi peas, is opening up the tenderness inside him, is broadening him in a way he doesn’t understand because it isn’t at all logical … and it’s so sweet, this feeling, he can practically taste it in his mouth. He gazes almost idly at his picky-ass trail-mix-eating omega – but he’s being assaulted by the queerest double vision, he sees the little figure he keeps tabs on as a reflexive part of his day, and there’s this overlay of a powerful figure. A sort of unfamiliar figure, who’s all bait-and-switch, who seems so frail but who’s made of titanium, who you could probably bury alive or hold underwater or do any number of Houdini-style stunts to … and who would pop up, coolly asking “…that all ya got?”
And Sousuke falls for him all over again – this time, for this new Haru. Haru-his-own-man. Haru the Survivor … of anything.
Haru who is pausing in his fervent “ethnic-cleansing” of the bag of all its wasabi peas, glancing up at him questioningly. “What? You want some?”
Sousuke smiles over at him from his exceedingly-comfortable spot, lying with his head propped up on one elbow, snugged deep in his fluffy down. The sides of the tent billow slightly in that west-wind (not much; Sousuke’s merciless at making sure to get the stakes firm whenever he puts it up). “Nah, thanks. I’m all full of that noodle-y mush you missed out on.” He rolls to his back, enjoys the familiar feeling of stretch down his spine, folds his hands behind his head. “It’s so damn cute how you just pick out the stuff you like, by the way. You’re like a five-year-old.”
“Would a five-year-old do this?” Haru asks, crawling over, and very deliberately straddles Sousuke. He instantly freezes – given the horrors of Haru’s story – but he just leans forward, taking Sousuke’s big face between his hands so softly, and Haru’s face has never beamed with such quiet emotion as he kisses Sousuke. It may be their most innocent kiss, almost chaste; it’s more like Haru is talking without words, telling him how relieved he is, how happy they’ve passed through this together.
As Haru finishes the kiss he settles in on top of Sousuke, comfortably, like he could stay there all night (though Sousuke isn’t positive his bladder’s on board with that). He crosses his arms on Sousuke’s wide chest and rests his head on top.
“…sorry, got distracted,” Sousuke says shakily. “No, a five-year-old would NOT do that, thank Christ.” He frees his own arms, tentatively encircles Haru, low on his back at the swell of his ass. He false-starts then finally can get it out, quietly. “Please, Haru; tell me if it’s not okay to touch you. Now, or anytime. OK?”
Haru’s look … well, it’s like he just ate a gourmet fish-dinner at the best restaurant in Tokyo. Prepared by someone ELSE. His eyes are near-sparkling in the tent-lantern, though now Sousuke knows he can’t trust a goddamn thing his eyes give him.
“Oh, Mr. Yamazaki. I do believe you might create a whole new kinder, gentler alpha model. Oh, my God, this is an historic day!” And his pleasure is absolutely genuine, no matter what his smart-ass words might say.
Sousuke scoffs easily up through a growing grin. “You pretentious little twit. You actually said ‘an historic.’ Ha.”
“Yeah? I’ll show you what else we ‘pretentious college kids’ like to do with our tongues,” Haru promises, shoving his shirt up, teasing a nipple mercilessly with said talented tongue with his blues homed-in on Sousuke’s teals, crinkled at the corners in amusement. Fingertips dancing, dancing around his other nipple, those fingers he was musing over earlier, all their subtle abilities to bait a hook or detail a sketch – or torture Sousuke within an inch of his sorry-ass life.
He allows himself to luxuriate in Haru’s sweet torture for a bit but then rolls like a “kinder, gentler” crocodile with his prey, getting Haru on his back, eyes-wide at the surprise change-up. His fine hands rest on Sousuke’s pecs and Sousuke smiles down at him.
“Tonight, Haru, I declare should be nice, and easy, and all about you,” he whispers, but still with great authority, relishing the skepticism on Haru’s face, and leans over to crack the tent-lantern’s door and blow the candle out. When the tent’s a-rockin’, indeed; it’ll have to be group-camp sex protocols if they don’t want the donkey-fucker getting wind and inviting himself in, but Sousuke’s perfectly fine with that. He’s beginning to enjoy the freedoms of this “New Alpha” – if he wants to suck his omega off until he’s begging for mercy (or would be, if they had some privacy), he’s gonna, goddamn it.
He pulls off his t-shirt, tosses it to Haru. “Use this to muffle yourself. ‘Cause what I’m doing to you, you’re gonna need it.”
“Ohmygod.” One word like a teen girl again, and Sousuke pfffts at him in delight, crawling back and settling in between Haru’s slim thighs. Haru, who’s up on both elbows now, so shamelessly gawking Sousuke almost tells him to quit staring before realizing Haru can stare all he wants, gently sliding Haru’s track pants down. Nothing underneath, which gives him a weird little stab of desire, despite the absolutely familiar sight it presents. Haru’s slim, pretty cock coming free with some difficulty; he’s half-hard already, half-hard after the emotional violence he’s sustained tonight and all from simply sharing a single, chaste kiss and making-out with Sousuke’s chest, for God’s sake … and Sousuke thrills to see it. It’s so normal. It’s so natural, so pre-blast, and his own cock throbs at the sight and more importantly all it tells him.
But tonight is for Haru.
He’s as attentive and devoted to his task as he can possibly be, given that he never was very good at blowjobs even before he turned alpha and basically got a “Get out of Doing Blowjobs Free” card. Guys just always seemed to instantly go down on him, in those weird gray-zone moments of a hookup or post-dinner-date makeout when no one is sure who’s doing what. Like there was never the thought that he would do them.
So he’s always been insecure about it. But he thinks fuck it and makes it a game – what can get Haru’s beautiful cock hard, cause, effect, repeat? What gets him writhing in Sousuke’s sleeping bag, the little nylon whispers unmistakable to anyone listening hard enough, like a man possessed by the Devil? What can he do to tease out the sounds … the tiny whimpers, the high-pitched keens, the incoherent profanity, the (his favorite) guttural groans, pushing just slightly through his bunched shirt? All of it, it’s like Sousuke’s a lab rat punching the lever for his tasty treat, and it’s no time before he realizes he is fucking hooked. He is ADDICTED to working Haru, to playing him, to getting his reactions in a way that seems selfless but is actually totally selfish, totally satisfying even though he doesn’t have a hand (or even a meaningful amount of friction) on himself.
When Haru finally comes, sitting up suddenly and grabbing onto Sousuke’s head, curling around it so that he hears Haru’s gasps clear-as-day through his shirt, Sousuke’s so busy being in a floaty haze, swallowing Haru’s cum with an eagerness he thinks he should be embarrassed by, clutching his thighs with hands like vices, eyes rolled back, he doesn’t even realize he’s come too. Sometime in the fog of Haru’s pleasure, he isn’t even sure when; he just sits back when Haru finally lets him go, looks down at himself like a middle-schooler after his first wet dream, and says “…huh.”
Haru struggles to his elbows from where he’d flopped back, chest fluttering as he gets his breath back, gazes pointedly at Sousuke as he gazes down at his own unmistakable wet spot. His smile glints in the dimness of the tent.
“Oh, Sousuke. I think you may have a hidden gift for this omega thing after all.”
*
Sousuke’s awakened some time later, partly by the wind – which has really picked-up now, rattling the rain-fly almost spitefully against the tent – but mostly by his damn bladder. He’s remembering the downside of drinking while camping; and he curses his stupid need for that whiskey as he blinks full-awake, turns slightly to find Haru comfortably sprawled beside him, arms akimbo, one hand resting open on his chest. He pauses at the sight – has Haru ever slept on his back, wide-open like that? He can’t remember, and he traces his eyes up and down his easy form, telling his bladder to shove it for another minute.
When he can’t stand it anymore he slides out from under Haru’s hand, fumbles in the dark for the zipper, wishing someone would invent a quiet one for situations like these as he eases it open. He slips into his flip-flops and comes out.
The fire-ring is vacant, the silence on the plateau in contrast to the happy bullshitting from the guys as he and Haru fell asleep. It’s like they’re alone again – but Sousuke knows they aren’t, that the guys finally gave up too and turned in for the night. A few embers glow red in the ashes.
He turns and heads into the woods, passing the soft domes of their two tents, dark inside. Someone is snoring in Sei and Momo’s, the sound wheezy and sounding way-older than either of the tent’s occupants.
Smiling, he walks on down the latrine path – which was a first-day establishment, to keep their waste away from the water. He shivers in a fierce gust –
– and suddenly hears voices, low, off to the left, with perfect clarity when the gust drops back into stillness.
Without a conscious thought, he slips smoothly behind a large pine, off the path and out of sight. The voices continue and he knows he hasn’t been heard. They’re close – just a few meters – and Sousuke freezes, listening.
“You’re bad, Kisume.” Makoto. Unmistakable. His tone is odd; Sousuke doesn’t think it’s ever been this smooth, deep, dark. Trace of disappointment, but that may be his newly-rampant romanticism again. “You’re just … so, bad. And sometimes that’s good. Sometimes, we need that. But other times, it gets in the way of what we want to do. And you and I know that’s not okay.”
A rustling sound, easy to miss even in the new stillness. All mixed-up suddenly with someone else’s quick breathing, almost panting, like they just ran a race. Panicky. Then, Kisume –
“I do it for you, Makoto. Everything, it’s been for you, don’t you see that?”
Makoto, interrupting so smoothly, sadly now. “Ah, Kisume, spare me your fucking bullshit. We all know everything you do is for Kisume only. And that makes you dangerous.” A pause, the sound of Kisume gasping in pain. “Especially when we’re almost ready to take him. Is he yours, Kisume?” Voice so soft, patient, like Makoto could teach whatever sick lesson he’s in the middle of to Kisume all night. Sousuke is ice, an instant statue at his words; and Kisume’s unwilling or unable to answer, then –
“He should be.” Grumbling like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. There’s a hard huh-huh-huh – so Rin’s here, too – and it’s confirmed, Makoto very reasonably saying “Rin, help me turn him over.”
And there’s a little chaotic symphony, bodies shifting in the pine needles and Kisume swearing viciously and Rin at some point sighing “Kisume, just fucking take it like a man!” Then it’s more-or-less quiet for a moment, Sousuke lifting his hands and silently gripping the bark like it’s their necks. Makoto’s, preferably; but any of them will do, Kisume would be fantastic, even Rin would feel great.
“You always need someone to remind you of your place. That’s gonna be especially important with the changes coming up, with your … fascination with him. That –” A sharp gasp from Kisume; Makoto pauses too to grunt, low, and if Sousuke didn’t know what was happening before, he definitely does now. “–that all stops … now.”
“Ahhh!” Kisume again, paired with another grunt from Makoto, satisfied-sounding, deep. Another pause as Kisume pants rapidly and then Makoto, again: “I don’t like to have to discipline you, Kisume. I want us all to stay together … and I prefer that we get along. You always push me to the edge...”
Then begins an unmistakable soundtrack: rhythmic, fierce exhales like Makoto’s lifting weights, like he’s putting in effort; knife-sharp gasps of pure-pain from Kisume – no lube here, clearly – broken intermittently by little cries like he can’t help himself; little outburst of rustling in the pine needles ending with Rin’s “Cut it out, Jesus!”
Sousuke’s head is strangely far away and alpha-rage hums madly just at his fingertips. He silently – with subtlety he has no idea he possesses – turns and creeps back to the path, ghosts swiftly back to camp. Passes the two tents, the wheezing snores continuing like nothing has happened, and shoots a prayer of thanks up to a God he has absolutely no belief in for his luck, sends up another that they can somehow get away with the rest of what he suddenly knows they have to do.
Haru was right.
Haru was right all along.
He dives back into their tent, manages to not land on the happily-sleeping shape of Haru in the darkness. Even with the noise and shaking, Haru doesn’t stir … and he wishes there was time to celebrate this new development, this new confidence and comfort – but if they do this right, they’ll have all the time in the world for Haru to sleep like that forever.
He gently shakes Haru’s shoulder with one hand, clamps softly on his mouth with the other in case he startles Haru awake. It’s needless, it’s turns out – he blinks up at Sousuke with eerie recognition.
“What?” he whispers in a tiny voice.
“Gotta pack up and leave. Now,” Sousuke breathes, everything he sees – Haru’s instant-alert face below his hovering hand, the soft poofs of the sleeping bag around him, his elegant collarbones peeking from the oversized collar of the shirt – standing out with hyperclarity, like he’s wearing night-vision goggles. A strange calm has settled over him, like each next-step is waiting patiently in a queue for him whenever he needs it. They just have to follow it.
Haru doesn’t even ask why, raise a word of protest. He’s instantly up, rolling his sleeping bag with speed and silence that’s almost unnerving, shoving it into its carrying bag. Sousuke dives after him and they have the inside of the tent done in maybe a minute. Haru’s shooting out the door muttering “…Kitchen…” and Sousuke follows, mustering every bit of his self-control to move carefully and quietly, instantly confirming that the snores are continuing from the direction of the tents … and no NEW sounds have joined them. Then he attacks their tent, not giving a damn about their usual careful ways of packing it up, balling it in a fabric tornado and hoping all the stakes have made it, that they aren’t ripping the nylon and net to shreds as he shoves it into its bag with no finesse.
Haru being Haru, he’s already hurrying the food and kitchen-gear bag over on his back, making it look easy even though it’s about half his size. He flicks his head at the cliff-path, his face a question – we ready to load the boat? Sousuke nods at him and he’s already gone, and Sousuke leaves their two finished packs to go pull down the tarp over what was the kitchen, their last remaining piece of gear.
The wind renews its attack as he furiously uncoils the rope from the first tree, and the madly dancing branches spark to black-and-white life as lightning flashes, as light raindrops begin spitting down. He holds the rope bunched in the tarp’s corner as he runs to the second tree –
– and he’s slamming through the air, his teeth ram viciously through his tongue and he tastes blood as he flies, has the sudden disconnected thought Ugh, poor Haru, it must’ve hurt like a BITCH when he bit his tongue during sex –
And then he’s crashing to the ground, somebody heavily landing on top of him, he’s totally tangled in the tarp rope –
And Rin’s yelling – close – “SEI! MOMO! WE GOT AN ESCAPE!”
And before he can hardly get a breath back there’s a forearm almost-professionally keeping his head turned into the pine needles, there’s a heavy weight settled on his back, pinning his arms. A warm breath gusts into his ear and Makoto murmurs, almost intimately, “Where is he, Sousuke? I like you, I don’t want to hurt you. But if I have to, I will. I’m terribly sorry.”
Somehow, Sousuke manages to grin, even as he has no clue what’s up with Haru, even as he hears the Mikoshibas loudly joining this new nightmare though his vision is limited to a narrow bar of sideways trunks along the forest floor, darkening as the light rain continues. He just – still hasn’t lost that new clarity, that purpose – even if this just means they’re taking a little detour from their original route.
He laughs at Makoto, rudely, into the dirt. “God, Makoto – you sound so much … like a Bond villain, I’d fucking laugh harder … if I could breathe.”
The pressure doesn’t let up. “I really am sorry,” into his ear again, a tight edge to Makoto’s smoothness, “but you’re strong and if I get off you’ll run. Again. Where is Haru?”
“I’ll track him down, tell him we’ve got his alpha,” he hears Sei telling Makoto with the irritated gruffness of a dad having to find a hiding kid for the babysitter before going out for the evening; and the “we” Makoto used as he disciplined Kisume becomes blatantly, suddenly obvious.
Makoto and Sei.
Two alphas, who – under the twisted new norms of this twisted new reality they’re living in – intend to take Haru. To share him. Probably have been looking for an omega out here for who-knows how long, have struck-up this arrangement out of sheer necessity.
Limited natural resources and all that.
…what that means for Sousuke, he has no idea. He won’t be allowed to stay, that he knows. A displaced alpha can’t go play at being beta with Rin, Momo, Kisume, even if he wants to. It’s just like wolf-packs. When a new alpha moves in, the old has to leave. Or die.
“Let him up,” rings out, clearly, and his heart sinks to hear Haru, here, not paddling silently away like he SHOULD be doing, if he had a goddamn brain in his beautiful head. But he also knows Haru, and knows Haru would do nothing less.
And he hates him for it. And he still loves him.
Makoto apparently is feeling obliging – Sousuke’s up, so fast his head is swimming, Makoto’s strong arms wrapped so firmly around his chest his arms are useless. “Here you are, Haru,” he calls out from over Sousuke’s shoulder, and Sousuke can almost feel the other alpha’s happiness, can almost taste it, at the prospect of having an omega almost in his possession. And not just some random omega; HARU, with all his contradictions and mysteries and talents and allure and beauty. Never mind all the rest of Haru that doesn’t fit neatly alongside this romanticized profile; for what Makoto wants him for, what Sei wants him for, that shorthand profile will be all they need.
It’s a pretty generous cage for an omega to live in, Sousuke knows. But it’s still a cage.
Haru’s head’s bobbing over the edge of the cliff now, and he’s coming on, up at the top of the cliff-path already as another pop of lightning freezes him in place, and it’s such a moment of melodrama Sousuke wishes he could laugh. The rain intensifies, and Sei swaggers into his field of vision, marching purposefully over to meet Haru as he enters the camp, small and slim in his giant sleeping shirt and seeming even smaller than usual against the muscular alpha coming up to him.
“Haru! We’re very … disappointed you’d want to leave us. But glad you came back,” he booms, grabbing Haru by his shoulders and gazing down at him. “There’s going to be some big changes in camp.”
“It’s – it’s cold! Do I have to stay out here getting fucking soaked?” a familiar voice whines, pitifully, from behind them, and Sousuke is vaguely intrigued at just how far Shigino Kisume has apparently fallen … though the question of Kisume seems almost hysterically irrelevant, now that the real wolves have dropped their sheep’s disguises.
Makoto sighs against him, a dad with a hopelessly delinquent son. “If you can’t be of any use to the group, Kisume, go in. You’ll just get in the way,” he turns behind them to call, voice grim and the disappointment and irritation unmistakable in it now.
Sousuke’s eyes are fixed on Haru, as he stands calmly under Sei, who’s turned to check up on the Kisume situation too. “Yeah, Kisume! Why don’t you go on in and think about what you did,” Sei laughs across at them, and somewhere behind them Sousuke hears Momo guffaw. There’s an angry rustle of nylon and a tent zipper.
“Screw – screw you guys,” he hears Kisume choke out, under his breath like he’s afraid to say it out loud, and the tent-zipper screams shut behind him.
“Well, glad that’s over with,” Makoto says matter-of-factly. “Momo, Rin, please take over for me; he’s very strong but I think you can handle him if you each take a side. Sei, why don’t you and Haru come over here.”
And feeling like he’s in the climax of a bad action movie, or maybe just a bad dream, Sousuke’s handed-off to Rin and Momo, who each firmly seize an arm and pin it behind him, forcing him to his knees. He’s able to attack – briefly – catching Momo in the nose with a good hit, feeling a satisfying thud as he connects and hearingthe kid’s furious “Heyyy!!” But that just gets him shoved harder down when they secure him. Rin may be holding him with the tiniest bit of sympathy or care … but it’s probably just a hysterical last-hope.
Freed, Makoto comes into his field of vision, striding to meet Sei and Haru as the giant alpha almost-formally presents Haru, walking him forward in front of him with pawlike hands on his shoulders. Haru comes willingly, arms crossed on his chest, and as he gets closer his eyes flick down to meet Sousuke’s for an instant.
What now?? Sousuke sends desperately.
I got this, it’s Haru’s turn to reply.
“Haru!” Makoto cries joyfully, running a hand through his wet hair. He reaches down, pulls Haru’s arms from their tight cross and takes hold of his hands. Sei waits patiently behind, hands heavy on Haru’s shoulders. His little face is calm as he looks up to Makoto, not even seeming to notice the fattening raindrops running down his cheeks, soaking his hair.
“It’s so, so good to see you. And this isn’t how we were gonna do this, you know – the plan was to sorta ease into it, not have it be so sudden.” He tilts his head like he did that first night, but this time he’s smiling, and from the side Sousuke can see it seems to lighten his whole face. “Ah, well! This is just as good. We all – Sei and I, but Rin and Momo too, and even Kisume – we want you to be happy in your new home. Welcome home, Haru,” he’s saying quietly, now, and he leans down, still holding Haru’s hands, and gets close; and Sousuke knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s breathing Haru in, testing his sharp and somehow invigorating scent. Then he leans still closer, and kisses him; he starts soft, but he pushes too hard, too fast, Haru totally unresponsive, ending up with Haru’s head tight against Sei’s chest as Makoto pulls back, panting. As the kiss morphed his hands roamed, too, and he pulls away from Haru’s ass and crotch slowly, almost like he’s been drugged.
And Sousuke feels that odd stillness again, when he should be blind with killing rage. Just … this waiting.
“…oh, God, Sei,” Makoto says thickly, tearing his stare from Haru to look up to his alpha partner watching him avidly … and Haru just stands, totally serene, hands at his sides where Makoto abandoned them and face thoroughly kissed…
And how does he DO that?
“Good?” Sei asks enthusiastically, like they’re at a wine-tasting and Haru’s a rare Bordeaux, and Makoto returns his stare down to Haru.
“…like a fucking popsicle on the first day of summer break when you’re a kid, and everything is pure happiness,” he says dreamily, lifting his hands to cup Haru’s cheeks. “You are gonna just die when you try him. We are gonna have so much fun with him, I don’t know how we’ll get anything else done.” He looks back up to Sei, a smart-ass grin on the side of his face Sousuke can see. “Eh, that’s what Rin and Momo are for, though, right? And Kisume, if we can keep the little shit in line…”
Bastards, Sousuke’s alpha-brain rails distantly. BastardsbastardsbastardsBASTARDS they will PAY.
…wait for Haru, this new part of him whispers.
“What’ll happen to Sousuke?” Haru says loudly, and his face shifts to where Sousuke’s held-down in a rapidly-forming puddle, face running with rain that could be tears. And Haru’s face is – flawlessly – the picture of concern, bordering on dismay … almost like he’s checking out his options but not if they involve harm coming to his beloved alpha.
Sousuke stares unabashedly up at him.
The two alphas turn to look at Sousuke, suspiciously expressionless, then Makoto’s coming back to Haru, hands never leaving his cheeks. “Haru… you know he can’t stay here. We can’t trust that he won’t try to steal you away, or do us all harm. That’s just the way things have to be.” He shrugs, then runs his fingers possessively through Haru’s hair with a little smile before bringing his hands down to his shoulders. Sei gets the hint and respectfully steps back to give them a little room.
“…some alphas would kill Sousuke to be totally sure those things wouldn’t happen. But we don’t want to go that far. We know you’ve probably gotten attached to him.” He pauses, seemingly searching Haru’s stricken face; tenderly strokes his cheek with what looks like real sympathy. Then he turns to face Sousuke, watches him gravely for a moment like he’s a judge about to pass sentence.
“We’re going to have Sousuke leave instead, and not come back.”
“Banishment.” Sei stands to the side like the Grim Reaper, arms crossed on his chest.
Makoto nods sadly. “I wish it could be different; I think we all would’ve really gotten along, in another life. But it can’t be. And I hope you understand you can’t try to come back, Sousuke. We’ll all be ready for you if you do … and we also have what you want, so if you did try to come – well, it would be the very last resort, but we wouldn’t hesitate to … damage him.” Makoto punctuates the threat by yanking Haru into his wide chest by the shoulders – hard – and Sousuke breathes.
“Kill him, if necessary,” Sei rumbles.
“– so know how much we mean this. And that you need to leave now.”
“No!!” It tears out of Haru, raw and violent, and all five in their tortured tableau are struck silent. “You aren’t banishing him!!”
Makoto’s hands slide down to his elbows, in a surreal attempt to soothe. “Shhh, honey. You’ll be happy here, and he’ll be fine –”
“I won’t STAY if he leaves!!” Haru cries, and he SHOVES off of Makoto’s chest with all his strength, separating them like two billiard balls and knocking Makoto on his ass into the soggy grass. He gapes up, Sei gapes to the side, Sousuke and his captors gape in the “audience” – as Haru turns clumsily –
– flashing the quickest wink to Sousuke as he goes –
There, and gone.
And Sousuke GETS IT.
Then Haru’s running, all-out, to the edge, madly, like a teenager in the middle of an epic temper-tantrum –
And he gracelessly hurls himself over the side … and is gone.
Utter, stupefied stillness for the barest moment – then Sousuke takes his cue, violently shrugging Rin and Momo’s suddenly limp hands off as he struggles up, staggers to the edge.
Screams madly over, “HARUUU! You can’t SWIM!!!” And collapses to his knees as lightning hits again, as Sousuke weeps freely and genuinely from the pent-up emotions that have cycled up and up and up all night, as his eyes bore into the total nothingness below and somewhere inside he’s utterly, utterly gobsmacked.
At Haru’s sheer, insane nerve.
And WILLS him to be alright.
In moments, his four new friends-turned-captors-almost-excommunicators are beside him on the very edge, leaning out like that will somehow turn Haru up in the driving-rain blackness below. Makoto’s next to him, crouches to grab his t-shirt and yank him close. “He can’t swim??” he screams, face see-sawing between shock and horror. “Why would he do that??”
“He’s gone! … Gone!” Sousuke gasps back, scrabbling at his chest as if he’s beside himself with grief, and it’s barely acting. “You killed him!!”
Makoto shoves his hands away furiously, shoots up. “He’s down there, and we’re gonna rescue him, now,” he commands. “Sei! You take a boat with Momo, I’ll go with Rin. He’s gotta be there, we’ll just use paddles as poles, keep looking…” He loses himself, mouth working; Rin tentatively squeezes his shoulder, and he seems to find his way again, storms down the path with purpose followed by Rin, Sei and Momo.
…and just like that, Sousuke is alone, soaked, kneeling on the edge of their cliff in the middle of the night listening to the chaotic sounds of four guys struggling to stage an impromptu water-rescue below him.
Not having any idea if Haru made it through his fall okay … or where he even is.
But suddenly that clarity is back, full-force, like someone turned on the lights to show him which direction to go. He stands – somehow doing it gracefully – and quickly heads over to snag their two remaining packs. The tarp, he sacrifices and figures it’s what got them caught anyway, is tainted with bad luck.
He glances in passing at the sad, wet tent where Shigino Kisume is hiding. Sulking.
Breathing calm into all four limbs, he hurries down the cliff path and waits a beat at the bottom.
Two canoes have just shoved madly out, all four occupants yelling back and forth at each other, Sei and Momo’s boat shooting out too-fast after Rin and Makoto’s and smashing violently into its side – T-boning it – tipping it precariously. Sousuke turns without another look to find their aluminum tank, ready to go before Haru came back up to find him, bow-rope lightly looped over a jutting branch and food bag securely stowed. He tosses their two packs in and lightly hops into the stern, shoves off with his waiting paddle, the bow-rope falling away…
And he’s free. Free, slipping off discreetly to the side in the darkness, not a single raised voice yelling after him to ask where he’s going, the sheeting rain helping to hide him as much as the general anarchy and the darkness.
He paddles swiftly and silently, keeping the canoe straight and true as it hugs the high rock wall on his right, not even bothering to waste time looking for Haru. Haru’s out here, alright; but he doesn’t need looking for. If this plan is going to work at all – if Sousuke’s deepest instincts about what just happened are right – Haru will be the one finding him. If he can just trust in him, have patience, not lose hope.
On the extreme northern side of their lake he comes upon a gap in the cliff, a hidden passage you would have to really look for just because of the way the granite stands to the sky, overlaps itself. A narrow, deep stream rushes along at the base of the tiny canyon, feeding their lake from … somewhere else. And a level, rocky path meanders beside the stream.
…could this be the way to another lake?
He doesn’t allow himself to speculate, throwing himself into the simplicity of action as he pulls the boat alongside the start of the little path. He climbs forward – with nowhere near Haru’s casual grace, but still oddly easy – to the bow, steps carefully out after grabbing the bow-line. Then he squints ahead in the rain and sets up the path, tugging the full – and heavy – canoe in the stream next to him.
He’s worried about going far – this feels right, like someplace Haru would find with his magic water senses; but the lake is still the last place they’ve been together, and he doesn’t want to abandon it. So he’s relieved when the stream and path curve to reveal a little open area, with a few scraggly trees on the bank he can tie the boat to for the night, tip it so it won’t sink in the rain, even an overhang in the rock wall where he can be more-or-less dry as he waits for Haru…
…if this luck holds out…
*
Sousuke is awakened by fingertips … tracing so very lightly over his face, describing his lips, the curves of his nose, the arches of his eyebrows. He wants to bust out laughing so much – but he holds back, pretending to be asleep, not cracking a smile or even twitching. He’s almost irrationally proud of this.
“You’re awake. You can stop with the act now,” Haru’s voice whispers beside him, and his eyes flutter open in the early-morning dimness of the overhang … to meet Haru’s, where he’s cuddled next to him on his side. Haru somehow broke out his own sleeping bag too when he found Sousuke’s little hiding place, and they’re wrapped up in a cloud of nylon and down, hair still damp but bodies warm, almost hot. Sousuke shifts over onto his side and smiles at him.
“Yeah, well, we aren’t all waterbending ninja-lords,” he says sadly, snaking his top arm around Haru’s side under the down, feeling that he’s naked. “I try.”
Haru’s face is absolute fondness as he leans in and kisses Sousuke’s cheek, stays nestled in against his chest. “True. You do,” he says quietly.
They lie there for a little while, just listening to the restless rush of the stream, the tiny drips of last night’s rain falling from the overhang. Then something dawns on Sousuke – something that seems important. Meaningful, more than you would think.
“Haru – I just realized!”
“What is it,” Haru asks, sleepily.
“Today’s your birthday,” he says happily.