Chapter Text
He wakes up to the overhead light clicked on dimly and Taako standing in the doorway.
Kravitz looks at him, brows furrowed. “Already?” he rasps. He would’ve thought he’d at least wake up before he died.
He never did say goodbye to Raven. He never got to sing for her again. Somehow, that hurts the most.
“Oh my gods,” says Taako. Even silhouetted by moonlight and the faint overhead bulb, he’s beautiful. “Holy — Kravitz?”
Kravitz laughs. He sits up, and is instantly slammed backward with a wave of racking pain, devolves into coughs for a handful of seconds before slumping back down, gasping. Damn. Not dead, then.
Which means —
“Don’t — don’t do that, just lie back down, what the hell, Kravitz, I didn’t — are you okay?”
Which, objectively, is a dumb question.
Two slim hands flutter frightfully over his head, butterflies looking to land but not knowing where, and Kravitz reaches up weakly to take one in his own.
It’s real. He stares at it, uncomprehending. It’s solid in his own, and it squeezes his, tight enough to be painful.
Then he looks up at Taako, who’s looking at him with fear plain on his face.
The facts don’t add up: that Taako is here, Taako is scared for him, and that this is real. This isn’t a dream, and he isn’t dead.
“Kravitz,” Taako says, kneeling by the couch, “Kravitz, can you — can you hear me? Gods, it didn’t take your hearing too, did it? I have — I don’t know how this works — ”
“I can hear you,” Kravitz says hoarsely. He’s still puzzling over the angles of Taako’s face. “You’re here.”
Taako bursts into a high-pitched laugh. “Yeah, homie, I’m here, I — hachi machi, you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Kravitz says dryly. Then, because he’s exhausted and has no filter: “What are you doing here?”
“I — I got a call from Mags, told me you were in a, uh, uh, a bad fuckin’ way, and you were — that you weren’t doing great and I just had to — I couldn’t — ” Taako locks his jaw and looks away, running a shaking hand through his hair. “Does it hurt?”
“Like hell,” Kravitz says bluntly. Beneath all the exhaustion and joy and pity there’s a thin thread of anger holding him tight. “You left.”
Taako flinches. “Yeah.” He swallows, looks away, then back at Kravitz, gaze fluttering nervously around the living room. It’s like he’s never seen it before, which pisses Kravitz off, honestly; he’s been here hundreds of times, gods, there’s a Taako-shaped indentation on his couch. He has no right to forget what neither the furniture nor Kravitz cannot. “You scared me.”
“I scared you?”
“That — sounds shitty, and it is, I know — look, Kravitz. Listen, I — ” his hands finally land on Kravitz’s and hold them, tightly. There is tension in every one of his fingers. “You told me, or I, uh, I found out, I guess, and I just — I freaked. I freaked out, okay? Because then suddenly a whole bunch of stuff made sense. Like in senior year you, uh, you missed that one test because you said you were throwing up, and you came in looking like hell. And I, uh — I couldn’t connect back then what was happening, of course, because you didn’t — and then you ran out of chemistry class, and I thought maybe you, I dunno, had to go call Raven or…or something, and just. A whole bunch of stuff made sense and I didn’t know how to deal with it because it’s on me, it’s all — on me, I mean, kinda, it’s really obvious in retrospect and I don’t know how I missed it,” he says, voice rising with something like hysteria. “But I didn’t want to see it because I didn’t know what to do with it, so Lup and Barry — they took me away — I mean, that makes it sound like it was a kidnapping, it wasn’t — that’s why they weren’t at work, by the way, I mean, if you even went to work? Did you?”
“I did,” he says. He sits up straighter and brushes off Taako’s attempt to help, anger pulling his face flat. “Why are you here, Taako?”
Taako blinks at the question. His head bows, for a moment, hair brushing in front of his face, and Kravitz notices with a start how greasy and unkempt it looks. From Taako, who cares about his appearance like he does little else, it’s a shock.
“I realized something,” he says. “Something that I should have — I dunno, seen a long time ago. You know me, I’m real good at, uh, at fuckin’, not seeing things I don’t wanna see.”
Kravitz smiles wryly at that. “Yeah.”
Taako shoots him a brief grin. He fiddles nervously with Kravitz’s fingers, which feels — nice. Taako has a lot to answer for, but at least he’s here. He didn’t think he would get to say goodbye to Taako.
“And I know this is, I dunno, comin’ out of left field for you — especially because I ran, and I know, I — I opened your texts, Kravitz, I turned off the — ” he clears his throat “ — the little, the receipts, you know them? I turned those off because I didn’t know what to say, and I listened to your voicemails, not just the ones from this week but from way back, I’ve been saving them, and — ” his voice breaks. He takes a deep breath, looks away for a moment, then exhales it shakily. “Every time I got angry, at — at you, at whoever made this…happen, to you, I guess that one’s kinda on Taako because it was obvious and I just, I missed the fuckin’ memo, I…I listened to them, Kravitz, over and over again. They made me feel better, somehow. Even when Lup couldn’t.” He laces his fingers with Kravitz’s, shoulders bowed. “You make me feel better. And not just about this, about…everything.”
“I’m glad,” Kravitz says hoarsely, and means it. “Taako, look at me.” He does, and Kravitz smiles at him softly. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Don’t,” Taako snaps abruptly. “Don’t do that, that — don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you — ” Taako’s expression crumples for a moment and he slumps against the coffee table, back where his boots were kicked a mere three days before. He takes a trembling breath, and this time it’s Taako fighting for air. Kravitz doesn’t like the reversal at all. “Listen, I did come here for a reason, and not just — to see you, though that was mostly it, I also came to…to tell you something.”
“Oh,” Kravitz says. He lets his eyes slip shut, then opens them again. “I didn’t think I’d get to say it either, but I’m glad you’re here.”
He squeezes Taako’s hand in his. Now that he’s here — it’s so obvious. Kravitz had known he would scare Taako, and that was exactly what happened, and now he’s here; he’s here to say goodbye.
That’s all Kravitz could have asked for, in the end. There’s still some simmering resentment but it’s dimmed, and Kravitz feels love; it never left, but it flickers fully to life now. Even prone on a couch he hangs onto that feeling, summons it to the forefront. It’s so nice, to love. It will kill him but he doesn’t regret it.
No, he thinks; he doesn’t regret anything.
“But you did,” Taako says, confused. “You did — I mean, kinda — ”
Kravitz frowns. “No, I didn’t. Taako, listen. Thank you for coming back, it…it means a lot. Truth be told, I didn’t know if you would.”
“Yeah,” Taako chokes. “Yeah, of — of course.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs. “I don’t think it’ll be more than a day or so. We don’t have any beds left, Merle took Raven’s and she’s in mine, but — there are pillows and blankets, you know where they are.”
Taako sits up. “A day until what?”
Kravitz looks at him curiously. “Until I die, Taako.”
“What?”
“I thought that was why you were here,” Kravitz says. “To say goodbye. Are you not — ?”
“No!” Taako’s voice edges clean into hysteria, now. His grip on Kravitz’s hands is painful. “No, I’m not here to fucking — are you kidding? Are you kidding me? No, you’re not going to die!”
Kravitz rasps out another hoarse laugh. “You sound like Raven,” he says. “She keeps saying the same thing.”
Taako is looking at him in equal parts confusion and terror, and if he were strong enough Kravitz would wipe that expression away with his thumb, smoothing the wrinkles in Taako’s skin with only his palms.
“I didn’t come here to tell you goodbye, Kravitz,” Taako says fiercely, voice shaking. “I came here to tell you I love you.”
Kravitz breathes once, twice, into the ensuing silence. He stares at Taako, and Taako stares right back. The whole room is holding its breath, breathless, and for once it isn’t Kravitz.
Love swells up in him, powerful and sweeping, and he smiles gently. The flowers in his throat bloom brighter and he thinks that this is it, maybe; he may have less time than he thought. If Taako keeps making him fall harder, Kravitz thinks wryly, he might have less than the day Raven fought so hard to give him.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Kravitz says softly. “But Taako, I don’t want you to try to feel things that you — ” he chokes on nothing, he’s breathing in nothing, he can’t breathe.
“I’m not — this isn’t a fucking joke, Kravitz, I’m not kidding — Kravitz? Kravitz?”
Kravitz curls sharply in on himself. His chest heaves for air that doesn’t come and it’s bad, this is bad but it isn’t the worst, he’s breathing through a reed pipe but at least he’s breathing at all.
“Kravitz,” Taako says, whispers, pleads, hands on his shoulders and his cheeks and his chest, like Taako’s fingers can knit him back together where Merle’s magic failed. “Kravitz, don’t — breathe, just keep breathing, Kravitz, please.”
“Go.” Kravitz swallows a cough and chokes, and all he can think about is how the last time Taako saw him like this, he left. “Please, go.”
“I’m not going fucking anywhere,” Taako snaps, and the couch shifts as Taako sits by him, two shaking hands resting on his shoulders. “Is there anything I can — how do I — how can I help?”
Kravitz shakes his head, waving a hand at him. Flowers spill unchecked from his lips and he retches, fighting as always, futilely, exhaustingly, to dislodge them from where they’ve rooted down their home in his ribs.
“Don’t you dare,” Taako says sharply, “don’t you dare, don’t you fucking— ” There are hands on his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears prickling at his eyes. Kravitz reaches up, takes those wrists in his and tries to push them away, but Taako refuses to go.
“Don’t,” Taako says. The world is spinning; Kravitz feels lightheaded, and when he cracks his eyes open between open-mouthed pants the room is blurred and shaky. Taako runs his hands along Kravitz’s arms, down his chest, up his neck and into his hair, holding him steady. “You can’t leave now, you can’t, I still haven’t — it’s just fucking rude to leave when — when someone has something to say and you aren’t, you’re not rude that’s just about the last thing you are, don’t — don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”
Kravitz hacks out a laugh, at the bitter irony of Taako trying to get him not to leave, but doubles over again when a rose gets stuck at the back of his mouth. He can feel the little petals tickling the back of his throat, like he could reach in and pull it out, but he can’t; he knows he can’t, because he’s tried. Taako’s hands tremble around his temples.
His windpipe clears, bit by bit. When he can see straight he looks up to find Taako’s face creased in an expression he’s never seen. In his hands is a single rose; discolored, but stained scarlet with blood.
That anxious weight still holds in his sternum but Kravitz breathes slowly, shallowly, and it’s manageable again. Strangely enough, Taako’s face is mottled, and there — there’s a shine to his cheeks and around his eyes that Kravitz has never seen before. His fist is locked tight in the fabric of the couch by Kravitz’s waist.
He stares at the rose and Kravitz tries to ask what he’s thinking, and can’t form the words. At the pained sound, Taako’s face falls flat, and he crumples the rose in his fist.
“No!” Kravitz wheezes, lurching forward to weakly pry Taako’s hands off the bloom. “No, leave it!”
“Why?” Taako asks, hands shaking. “These — these fucking things, they’re killing you!”
“Don’t,” he pleads, “don’t, just — give it back to me, don’t hurt them, please — ”
“These — ” Taako locks his jaw, every point in his body rigid with tension. “These fucking flowers, Kravitz, why are you keeping — burn them!”
“No!” Kravitz reaches for it and collapses back with a choked groan as his ribs protest. “No— ”
“Okay, okay,” Taako says, resting a hand on Kravitz’s shoulder and gently pushing him back down. “All right, just…chill. Don’t sit up. Where — where d’you want it?”
Kravitz points behind him, toward the table where the most recent ones are stored, and Taako hisses at the sight of so many discolored blooms by his head. Taako drops it brusquely in with the others, then pauses and studies them for a long, long time. For the first time in a while, Kravitz has no idea what he’s thinking.
Then Taako takes him by surprise and turns and sits and says, “I wasn’t kidding.”
Kravitz looks questioningly at him. Taako clears his throat. “When I said — listen, Taako don’t make these sorts of confessions lightly, so there’s no — no ifs ands or buts, yeah? No passin’ Go, no — fuckin’ — putting anyone in jail or anything.”
Right. Kravitz relaxes back into the cushions, propping his head up on the arm to keep Taako the center of his vision. “I understand,” he says. “And — I meant it, too. When I thanked you.”
“No — ” Taako tugs out the hairband of his braid in one frustrated motion. “No, you thanked me because you thought I was goofing. I wasn’t goofing, this isn’t — this isn’t a goof. This is the last damn thing from a goof. Farthest damn thing.” He shakes his head, irritated. “That — okay, fuck speech, but listen. Point still stands. I wasn’t joking.”
Kravitz sighs. “Taako, I’m fine. Really. I’ve made my peace with it. You don’t have to — you don’t have to pretend anything just to keep me alive. I don’t want that for you.”
“Yeah, and I don’t — I don’t want death for you, homie!”
“I already told you, this isn’t your fault.” Kravitz reaches for Taako’s hand and he offers it, instantly. “This isn’t your responsibility.” A small, fond smile crosses his face. “I fell in love with you. It isn’t your fault that you don’t feel the same.”
But instead of calming down, Taako only appears more frantic. “This isn’t — I know, you don’t pick you fall in love with or whatever, okay so I see in retrospect how what I said doesn’t sound great, but I’m not just here to try to keep you alive! This isn’t some — some fucking scheme to, to make you hold on a little longer. I’m here to tell you I love you. Did — did you hear that? Because I’ll say it again, I fucking will. I love you. I love you, Kravitz.”
Kravitz stares at him. “What?”
“I love you, Kravitz.”
“No, I heard that part, I just don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?” His voice is desperate in a way Kravitz has never heard it. “Three words, right? That’s — that’s — I mean, you do too, right?”
“Of course I love you,” Kravitz says easily. “But you — you understand why I don’t believe you, right? This is all awfully convenient.”
“Kravitz — ”
“No. I call Julia and Magnus, and you show up the next evening saying you love me? You’ve known me for ten years, Taako. Love doesn’t develop over the course of — of two days. It takes time.” He knows. He’s fallen in love before Taako, once or twice; but never for this long, and never this deeply.
When he was younger he wondered if he would die for it. He doesn’t have to wonder anymore.
But Taako doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop. Taako is the only person he knows who could rival Raven in stubbornness. “Yeah, that’s because I’m a fucking idiot. Look. You know me, Kravitz, you know that when I get an, uh, uh, a feeling that I don’t know what to do with I ignore it until it fucks off. You know that.”
Despite everything, the affirmation that Kravitz still knows him makes him feel warm. At least they still share something. “Yes,” Kravitz says dryly, “you do.”
“Yeah. So what do you think I did when I fell in love with you? D’you think I fuckin’ — that I recognized it and, like, acknowledged it like you did? Like any reasonable person would? Hell no, cha’boy went and stuck his head in the fucking sand and it took Barry and Lup two days to dig it out all the way! It — this didn’t just spring up — shit, bad choice in words, this — this didn’t just come out of nowhere, it’s — it’s been a long time, Kravitz. A really long time. I just — I didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t even know it was happening until, y’know, last night when I was sitting — listening to — never mind, that’s not, that isn’t relevant. You don’t get to fuckin’ beef it because I’m an idiot.”
Kravitz shakes his head, and keeps shaking it. It doesn’t stack up. None of this makes sense: doesn’t add up, the words don’t flow. Three years he’s spent, feeling his own death creeping up on him, and Taako loved him the whole time?
Gods, he’d hoped. He’d hoped so badly, for so long. When he could still rasp through notes he’d written music, songs for Taako, what they could’ve shared. Then, when he realized his feelings would never be returned, he shoved them in a folder and locked them away.
He’d almost burned them. Ironically, it was Raven who had stopped him.
There’s a high-pitched whine filtering in through his ears and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s coming from him.
“Listen,” Taako says, faster and more frantic now. “I need you to believe me. Please, Kravitz. Please, you’re — you look like hell — ”
Kravitz keeps shaking his head. It’s spinning. The ground beneath his back is spinning. In his chest, those damned flowers keep blooming. “I don’t….”
“C’mon,” Taako pleads. His hands rhythmically smooth the collar of Kravitz’s shirt. Distantly Kravitz thinks that this is his sleepshirt, he should’ve put on something nicer for guests, before remembering that this is Taako and Taako has seen him in ripped black jeans and a T-shirt with Amy Lee’s face in the middle.
“Be — be angry, you can do that, that’s fine, as long as you accept — it took me like three years! It took me a long time, to get that, and isn’t that — oh boy isn’t that fucked! That it took me that long to realize!”
“Taako — ”
“No, you don’t — ” Taako’s breath hitches, the movement of his hands speeding. “Just — I can count on one fuckin’ hand the number of times I’ve seen you get angry but I need you to do it now, can you believe how long it took me? To realize I loved you? Just, I dunno, channel your sister, you were here suffering the whole time and I — ” his voice breaks and his shoulders hitch, “ — I didn’t realize ‘cause I didn’t want to see it, how fucked is that?”
“I…” Kravitz trails off. His throat is closing again. He can’t figure out what to think. Taako’s being sincere. Kravitz knows this because the tells are obvious, his face his voice and his ears, but the words he’s saying don’t make sense, because if he’s right then Kravitz was wrong for three years.
If he’s right —
Taako fumbles for Kravitz’s hand. He’s crying, Kravitz realizes through a pounding headache and ringing ears; he’s never seen Taako cry before. These last few days have held a lot of firsts for him.
Taako spreads his fingers gently and presses Kravitz’s hand to his chest. Right over his heartbeat.
It thumps, quick and harsh, against Kravitz’s palm. “I love you,” Taako whispers. “I do, I mean it, I really do. This isn’t a jape and it isn’t a goof, and that — this — this is going for you. This whole — heart thing, this rhythm — you’re a music boy, this tempo? It’s yours. It’s yours. Take it. If you want it, it’s kind of — fast, right now — ”
Taako’s words crumble, get stuck on the back of his tongue. “Please.”
“I don’t want to take your heart,” Kravitz manages. He can’t stop thinking: what if Taako isn’t lying?
“This isn’t taking, you’re not — you’re not taking it, I’m trying to give it! I’m trying to tell you that I’m giving it to you! No permission necessary, just — “ Taako releases Kravitz’s hand, and Kravitz keeps it there, carefully; his heartbeat is entrancing, just as it was the first time he felt it. He takes Kravitz’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. “I come here, and you tell me you’re a fucking day from dying, and I don’t — I can’t — Jesus, Kravitz, I need you to not be stubborn for once and just listen. Please, just listen.”
Kravitz stays silent. He thinks —
He’s never seen Taako like this before, so thoroughly taken apart. He’s never seen Taako touch someone other than his sister for longer than two minutes, and yet here he is, smoothing his hands along Kravitz’s shoulders, his arms, his cheeks; here he is, pressing their foreheads together and whispering impossible things against Kravitz’s lips like they mean something.
Taako folds him tighter in his arms. “I love you,” he whispers, palm flat against Kravitz’s shoulderblade. Stunned, it takes Kravitz several seconds to reciprocate, folding his hands behind the small of Taako’s back.
Over and over Taako repeats it: I love you, Kravitz. I love you. I miss you, I’m sorry I hurt you, please don’t leave; I love you. I love you. I love you.
Something curious happens, then.
Kravitz closes his eyes, chin tucked on Taako’s shoulder. He hears Taako’s litany, those string of broken words and hollow gasps; Taako’s never prayed in his life but this, Kravitz thinks, is the closest he’s ever gotten.
And Kravitz — lets him in. Lets himself hear those words, lets them wrap cool and gentle around his heart, and decides to trust.
Please don’t hurt, Taako whispers, nails jagged against his shoulder, and suddenly, he doesn’t.
The wrenching pain in his chest ceases. The relief is so abrupt that Kravitz opens his eyes, just in time to blink as the aching pressure on the inside of his ribs vanishes. All down his throat, he can feel it; thousands of tiny roots that had burrowed into his flesh releasing, floating free.
And then they come up.
Kravitz locks his arms around Taako and coughs over his shoulder, pushes everything out. Taako’s pleas turn frantic again but Kravitz tunes them out — he doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to hear his love shouting himself hoarse — and holds him carefully, firmly in place. Taako fights him, looking again for some way to help but Kravitz doesn’t know how — doesn’t have the air to explain — that he doesn’t need it, that this is it, that it’s not just petals and it’s not just flowers but it’s roots and seeds and everything that has grown inside him for the past three years.
It burns like hell, and Kravitz loses himself to the familiar push-pull of expelling flowers while trying to suck in air. Eventually his arms weaken around Taako’s waist, trembling from exertion, and Taako’s hands are on him again in an instant. Somewhere, distantly, someone is crying his name, shaking his shoulders, begging him for — for something, but Kravitz can’t hear them.
Then the last of the petals fall free, and Kravitz sags forward. Two arms wrap around him, supporting him, and he looks up to see Taako crying openly, shaking with what must be fear.
He takes the first deep breath in three years.
“I’m okay,” he says. There’s still a rasp to his voice. The scores of flesh that ripped apart didn’t heal immediately, but the thorns wrapped in their stems are gone, a serene pile of green-and-red that lies innocently on their carpet.
“Kravitz?”
“I’m okay,” he says, giddy. “I’m — I can breathe!”
He takes a deep breath, then another, and another, marvelling at how he can feel his chest expand. There’s a sweetness to deep breaths that gods, he’d forgotten — he’d forgotten how good it felt to be able to close his eyes and breathe. His ribs twinge as lungs long-depressed expand again, and he revels in it.
“You — ” Taako presses his palms flat against Kravitz’s ribcage, and holds his breath for one, two, three seconds before his face crumples and he buries himself in Kravitz’s shoulder. He’s trembling. “Gods,” he whispers, “gods, Kravitz, you scared me, don’t fucking — Jesus— ”
He places a wondering hand on his throat and swallows. It doesn’t tickle. He doesn’t have to bury the urge to cough. He laughs, quietly, amazed. “I’m okay.”
“Is it gone?”
“It’s gone,” Kravitz says, still a little awed himself. Just like that.
Taako’s hold on him tightens, like he’s trying to anchor Kravitz to him with sheer force of will, before he sits up. “You’re an idiot,” he says.
Kravitz laughs, and catches on the laugh when it doesn’t hurt, and laughs even harder, because now he can do that, now he can laugh at the stupid things Taako says. Gods, he can — he can finally sing again. “Fifty-fifty,” he says, rather generously, he thinks. The twinges of resentment he’s resoundingly pushed away for now protest the statement but then Taako does too, so Kravitz thinks he’s gotten his point across, whatever that point was.
Taako loves him.
He’d spent so long hoping and convincing himself that was impossible and here, here’s the proof that he was wrong, and he should be crying, probably, because he does that easy, but instead he just keeps smiling and can’t seem to stop. He laughs, still a little breathless, and draws Taako’s forehead to his. “I love you,” he says, because he can.
“Shit, dude,” Taako murmurs, voice still a little shaky, “me — me too, but listen, kemosabe, the next time you want validation just come talk to me, okay? I don’t…let’s not do that again.” He pauses, fervent. “Ever.”
“I knew what would happen when I told you,” Kravitz says quietly. “I wanted to keep you in my life for as long as possible, Taako. Maybe that was selfish of me.”
Little tremors run along Taako’s shoulders and Kravitz smooths his hands up Taako’s back, along the nape of his neck, humming a tuneless note as comfort. Taako’s not putting his apologies to words but Kravitz can hear them in the heaviness in the air. It’ll take him a long time, Kravitz thinks, to forgive himself for this.
He still knows Taako so well.
“It was,” Taako whispers, letting out a shaky laugh. “But so was leaving, so, uh…fifty-fifty. Except not really. More like…eighty-twenty. A hundred-zero? That’s not even a split, and I know that and I’m not even a math boy, so something’s wrong, uh, uh — “
“Let’s think about that in the morning, hmm?” Kravitz murmurs, catching Taako’s cheekbones with his thumbs and pulling back just far enough to look Taako in the eye.
Taako pulls away and slumps on top of Kravitz, kicking his feet on top of the cushions. He twists to rest an ear on Kravitz’s chest and it takes him a moment; the same heartbeat that pulses in his throat, Taako hears now. Almost instinctively he curls a hand round to the small of Taako’s back, and rests the other against his chest.
“Can I — ” Taako swallows. Kravitz turns his head, nose brushing along Taako’s hair. “Can I stay?”
The vulnerability in those words makes his chest tighten. He drops a kiss on Taako’s forehead then snuggles down, comfortable and warm beneath Taako’s weight.
“Of course.”
He wakes, and notices two things simultaneously: first, he can breathe without wincing, and second, someone’s holding his hand.
He must make some noise because Taako, sitting by the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of Kravitz’s waist, turns to look at him. When he sees Kravitz, his face splits into a grin. “Morning.”
“Morning.” It wasn’t a dream, then, falling asleep with Taako in his arms. He can’t help but smile in return.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good,” he says, surprised at the truth in the statement. He’d slept the whole night through, strangely comfortable despite the fact that this wasn’t his bed, despite the rattling of the radiator that kept him up as a child. He remembers Taako sprawled snugly against his side, and chuckles at a mystery solved. “You?”
“Good.” There’s light streaming in from the windows already, and it catches Taako’s white shirt and hair in streaks of gold as he raises his second hand to join the first. “I woke up a bit before you did, to be honest, but, uh…” he shrugs. “Didn’t want to do anything before you opened those tired eyes.”
The consideration makes Kravitz feel light. He snags one of Taako’s hands and presses the back to his lips, gently. His lips catch briefly on smooth skin. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
Taako stares at him, wide-eyed, then clunks his face against Kravitz’s hip with a snort. “Sap. You’re still a fuckin’ — did you pick that up in your Victorian novels, Kravitz? Is that where you learned that — that fuckin’ trick?”
“It was my homosexual Westerns, actually.”
“Fuck off with that.”
“No, really! You’d be surprised how chivalrous cowboys can be.”
Taako studies his innocent expression, then jabs a finger in his nose. “Still can’t fool me with that poker face, thug.”
“Damn.” Despite the loss, he’s grinning so wide his jaw aches. “At least I can still hand your ass to you in Go Fish.”
“Go Fish is pure luck, that’s a loada bullshit,” Taako says.
He laughs, and Taako does too, and his gaze drops to Taako’s lips and he wonders —
Taako reaches out a hand, brushes a gentle thumb along Kravitz’s lips, palm perched lightly on his chin. “Chapped boys,” he murmurs, drawing a soft laugh from Kravitz. “All this time I thought you just had shitty chapstick, my man.”
“Nope, that was the — the ‘pneumonia.’” He draws verbal air quotes around the word, unwilling to move a muscle.
Taako’s fingers are soft against his lips. Everywhere skin meets skin trails a pathway of sparks that make Kravitz shiver. Kravitz watches him closely, catches the slight hitch in Taako’s breath, how his gaze follows the path his thumb traces gently; watches him lean in, slightly, and close his eyes.
This time it’s Kravitz’s turn to catch his breath. Taako’s brows are knit in anticipation and it would be rude, he thinks, giddy, to make him wait.
Taako’s lips are just as soft as his fingers. He makes a small noise when their mouths meet and reaches forward, running his hand along Kravitz’s cheeks and into his hair.
Kravitz lets them fall backward, tugging Taako along with him. Taako fits easily against his hip, the curve of his chest. Kravitz delights in running a hand along the planes of his back, the curve of his spine, up to cup his neck where the gentle touch makes Taako shudder in his arms. It’s everything he’d hoped for, and he lets out a fluttering sigh when they break apart.
“Hachi machi,” Taako says, breathless. Then he grins. “Man, I was missing out.”
“So was I,” Kravitz says. He pulls Taako more securely against him, the solid weight comforting against his chest, and has to fight back another yawn. He could go back to sleep like this, easily, the two of them twined close together.
Taako laughs softly against the corner of his jaw. “Lazy,” he murmurs.
“Fuck off,” Kravitz replies, just as soft. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Kravitz worries for a moment he’s said something wrong, but then one of Taako’s hands tucks more securely around his back and he says, “Yeah. I — I’m glad we can do this, Kravitz. I — ” Taako swallows, burying his nose in Kravitz’s collarbone, and then, so quietly Kravitz can hardly hear it. “I love you.”
Kravitz presses a kiss to Taako’s forehead, notices the contented tilt of Taako’s ears, the way his hands nestle perfectly in the small of Taako’s back; he thinks of the days and weeks before him and thinks, maybe, that his apartment is big enough for two. “I know.”