work expands so as to fill the time available.

[guidedrecall]

The light filtering through the window is too bright for Barnaby's blue eyes, sticky and sensitive as they open reluctantly and he drags himself to sitting in bed. He's still dressed in what he stumbled to bed with, a plain white t-shirt a little too big because they'd only bought one package to suit both himself and Kotetsu; boxers that are the same. He groans, groping across the bed in search of his glasses, unintentionally rousing the other man beside him.

They'd shared the bed, he remembers, because neither of them had been willing to take the couch, in the state they were in. Which, Barnaby recalls, had been fairly drunk.

Pulling himself to standing, he crosses to the bedroom window and turns the handle to open the blinds further, yellow-gold light filtering in. It's red enough light that Barnaby knows it's ... almost evening, actually. It would irritate him to discover, normally, but they hadn't gotten in until very early, having stopped for clothing and groceries and whatever else that could be fitted into a bag, in their state, and dragged to Barnaby's apartment.

Barnaby doesn't remember much from the night. Only a few things stand out. Mostly, he distinctly remembers Kotetsu plopping an unfamiliar, brightly colored bill onto a counter and asking the clerk to 'bring booze.'

He presses a palm to his forehead. It feels too warm

"Rise and shine," he calls out to his partner.

Comments

[virtigris]

There's a space between sleep and wakefulness where the details in the surroundings are muted. Where Kotetsu's head hasn't yet started pounding with the memory of what happened the night prior, and where he can't even begin to wonder at the different feel of the sheets fisted in his hand, or in the light patterns scattered across his pillow. In that moment, the only thing he knows is that there's someone next to him, a frequent recurring dream that all too often slips from his fingers in the seconds after waking.

He keeps his eyes half-open, unfocused, as though that might help maintain the impression, even for just a second longer. Even if it means waking becomes tinged with a deep loneliness that won't abate.

Nestling his face back into the pillow, Kotetsu lets out a soft groan, toes dragging against the covers.

"Sun's not even up yet," he declares, in response to the soft amber cast over the room.

[guidedrecall]

"No," Barnaby says mildly, removing the finger he had stretching down one of the slats of the blinds with a soft snap. He moves away from the window, reaching for the bottle of water sitting on the little bedside table and the aspirin beside it.

"This apartment is on the west side of the building. It's just starting to go down. We probably only have three hours or less of daylight to work with. We might want to get ourselves moving and motivated and leave before we lose our chance today."

Unscrewing the bottle of pills, he drops four into his hand. Taking two, he washes them down his throat with a quick gulp, before handing the other two out to Kotetsu, and the water.

"Doesn't seem like anything changed overnight. We should go to the library. Then we need to buy more to wear. And a laptop computer. Some other things." He pauses, adding only at length, "How are you?"

[virtigris]

The first throb settles into Kotetsu's temples as soon as Barnaby starts rattling off a list of tasks and errands that they need to accomplish by the end of the day. No, even that description is generous — he lists tasks that need to be completed in the next three hours. Staring blearily at the ceiling, Kotetsu ignores the pills and water held out for him, frowning as he turns onto his side and resolutely buries his face back in his pillow.

Which might not be the most mature course of action, but the last thing that he wants to do right now is be corralled around when there's hardly any time remaining in the day anyway. If they're going to be stuck for a while, what's an extra twelve hours or so in bed?

"Not in the mood," he mutters, pressing his fingertips against the center of his forehead, just below his browline. "I doubt I'll even be able to look into the light for the next three hours, and you expect me to head to the library? Since when have you ever known me to solve a problem with a book?"

[guidedrecall]

Barnaby takes a breath, deep, trying to be as patient with Kotetsu as possible. The childish obstinance is not what he's accustomed to from the other man. Not that Kotetsu has never shown to be capable of it. Simply that Barnaby hasn't seen him quite this closed off ... in some time. Maybe he needs to be alone in the apartment. Maybe he needs the time off.

Barnaby could go to the library alone. He could run all of these errands alone. But he doesn't want to.

He slips the pills and the water back onto the bedside table, before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, back to kotetsu and feet crossed gently at the ankle on the ground below. His fingers shift in the new sheets, making crisp noises in the quiet apartment.

"Then what are you in the mood for, Kotetsu?"

[virtigris]

The pillow next to Kotetsu smells like hair product. He hadn't recognized the scent at first, but does as soon as he turns to meet Barnaby's gaze, towards the dip of the mattress underneath his partner's weight. The quietly contemplative look on Barnaby's face is enough in of itself to chide Kotetsu for his behavior, and he lets out a long, reedy sigh.

He knows that he's being difficult. It's unlike him. If he's going to be stubborn, he should be so in a productive way.

It's only been this hard to get himself out of bed once before, and frankly, Kotetsu doesn't know what to do with the reminder.

"Instant gratification, probably," he says, resting a hand on his forehead, fingers curled towards the palm. Were Agnes around, she'd find something, anything for them to do. A small name criminal, a charity event. Something that isn't staring into piles of books without promise. Kotetsu's eyes narrow slightly, his expression softening. "So your hair doesn't naturally curl, huh?"

[guidedrecall]

"No," Barnaby says, mouth forming a small circle when he is visibly surprised by both the question, belatedly, and his own honesty in answering. It's trivial. It's something he might answer for a magazine interview. Yet from Kotetsu, such a personal question is strangely intimate, and Barnaby isn't certain what to do with it, exactly.

"It's permed and takes a lot of care. When it's shorter, it curls. But when it's this long, it's too heavy. Yours is straight, and so is your daughter's, so I guess you wouldn't have known. It's just mousse, and a round brush, and a blow-dryer."

None of which Barnaby has in this apartment, which he is not about to admit, bothers him more than a little. Something about the loss of the routine of it makes things harder to bear. He wishes he could retreat into the bathroom and do something about it.

[virtigris]

Surprise is one of Kotetsu's favorite emotions to read on Barnaby's face. Knowing Barnaby's background, Kotetsu's put no small amount of thought into how he might be able to open a few more doors, expose Barnaby to certain aspects of life he never had the time or space to explore properly as a child. Things like sharing habits, small intimacies, seemingly pointless but critical to the overall picture. His good mood is restored for a moment with a soft huff of laughter, and Kotetsu leans across the bed to reach for the water and painkillers Barnaby's been thoughtful enough to share with him.

And he discovers, to his surprise, that casual mentions of Kaede are better than nothing at all. (Maybe it shouldn't be surprising. The knot in his chest only unwound all those years ago after he found himself capable of speaking freely about Tomoe again.)

"Ah, Kaede's hair takes after her mother's. Softer than mine, which suits her face well," he says around the pills in his mouth, then taking a moment to down the rest of his water. "She figured out how to style it all on her own. I don't think she'd care for a gelled look."

[guidedrecall]

The little fact about Kotetsu's daughter makes Barnaby smile, although it's uncertain and tentative. It's an honest smile, not put on for the sake of appearances, but because he's happy to see that Kotetsu, even if he won't be coaxed out of the bed and into productivity (the tower from which Barnaby would prefer to keep himself aloft from panic in,) he can still be brought to talk to Barnaby about something else.

"Her hair is lovely. A sporty ponytail suits her personality just fine," Barnaby says, turning further in his seat and dragging one knee up onto the bed, where he grips it in both palms, giving his fingers something to do that isn't fold into the sheets. "Are you hungry? You seem like the type that would fight off a hangover with a greasy egg sandwich, or something like that. Isn't that what people your age do?"

Maybe a joke would help.

[virtigris]

"Only because we have the wisdom to know that the only way to get over a bad decision is to follow it up with another," Kotetsu declares, loudly until his head throbs in protest. Reaching out, Kotetsu claps a hand down on Barnaby's knee, laying it on top of Barnaby's hand and giving it a squeeze. Partly in thanks. Partly for reassurance.

It may take some time, but Kotetsu still believes what he declared to their welcomers just hours ago — that finding their way out isn't impossible, and Kotetsu will be the one to do it.

"We should eat, though. I can't remember what we got last night at the store," he adds, sliding his legs over the side of the bed and slowly standing to his feet, tugging his boxer briefs up from where the elastic slid down the cut of his hip. "Oi, didn't you say that you'd been practicing how to make fried rice? That wasn't something you said just to make me feel better, right?"

[guidedrecall]

"Two blacks don't make a white," Barnaby says, but not without deep amusement. He doesn't mean to be a nag; he makes the statement almost because it's expected of him. Maybe it's a language all their own. He's never been close enough to another person who he didn't consider family in his life. Kotetsu is, in every way, unique. And Barnaby is glad that he can be here for him, in this place, if that's what he needs.

He's not sure he can cook in this kitchen, though

"I've been practicing. I wasn't lying to you!" he says, with a little more impatient emphasis, now that he's flustered by the question and the hand on his own. "But I don't know if we have all of the ingredients that we need, or if we have all the utensils that we need, or if the stove is electric or gas. I don't know my way around the kitchen at all. Even if I tried, it wouldn't be very good at all."

So Barnaby would rather not try, though he does not go so far as to voice as much Something about saying these things to Kotetsu makes him feel silly, although he shouldn't. They're valid concerns. It isn't that he's phobic of failure. Not really.

[virtigris]

"Keh," Kotetsu snickers at once, hiding his laughter behind a closed fist as he turns to make his way to the kitchen. It's only recently that Kotetsu's been able to acknowledge the more endearing aspects of Barnaby's perfectionism — namely that outside the realm of work and obligations, such attention to detail is a sign that Barnaby cares. He doesn't pull out the stops for anyone.

Actually, he's really kind of choosy.

"The whole point of fried rice is to be able to make use of what you have in the kitchen! Old kimchi tastes delicious after being tossed around in a pan. Leftover teriyaki chicken can be diced and thrown in; you don't even have to worry about whether or not it's fully cooked," Kotetsu declares, his voice rising in volume as he makes his way towards the kitchen. The louder he is, the less he has time to focus on the strangeness of a situation. These spaces are supposed to be empty when moving in.

Yet, when he tugs open the first counter he happens across, he can see stacks of plates and bowls neatly arranged, white ceramic adorned with a pale blue pattern at the edges.

"We'll make it together," he says, sticking his head into the fridge next. They've got eggs. Sausages. They can make it work. "And if it doesn't taste good, you're free to blame the failure on me. Doesn't that make you feel better? Ah, but that means you can't take full credit if it's delicious, either."

[guidedrecall]

Barnaby still doesn't feel competent, still doesn't feel confident, when he follows the sound of Kotetsu's rich voice to the kitchen, lingering in the doorway with his lower lip worried between his teeth. But that need for competence is much less so, if they're working on dinner together. As kotetsu has said, there can't be any credit or blame but what they share, if that's the case.

And the truth is, they need to eat. And Barnaby is just as responsible for any meals between the two of them as Kotetsu. Less that he would feel a burden if he didn't help, more that it's a responsibility they should both be held to.

He hasn't questioned that Kotetsu is going to the apartment assigned to him any time soon. They're partners This could not be more important, in the situation they are in.

The linoleum on the kitchen floor is still cold to his bare feet.

"If we have what we need. You don't need to give me a lecture about it. I mean, I know that it's supposed to be a meal for using up leftovers and everything. In theory. I'll chop something. What do you want me to do?"

[virtigris]

Grabbing eggs, onions, snow peas, and a package of barbecued pork from the fridge — probably an impulse buy in the middle of Kotetsu's drunkenness, and proof that he has sound judgment even when compromised — Kotetsu kicks the refrigerator door shut behind him and lays out the ingredients on the counter.

"You can wash the rice," Kotetsu says cheekily, wondering if Barnaby protest. If there's anything that promises to teach Barnaby next to nothing about making fried rice, it's washing the rice.

Then again, it's also the safest part of the process. One that Kotetsu can't imagine Barnaby messing up.

"Or wash the..." Looking up, Kotetsu pauses. "Bunny, are you blushing? You've never cooked with someone in the kitchen, have you? I know you said you hadn't been dating this past year, but surely you had some girls who tried to get close during home ec."

Kotetsu starts walking the perimeter of the kitchen, tugging open every drawer he encounters. Looking for the right utensils.

[guidedrecall]

As if in answer to Kotetsu's ribbing, the pale dusting of pink on Barnaby's cheeks darkens, but Barnaby refuses to address it one way or another. He grabs the rice instead, and a collander, and pours the rice in before stuffing the entire setup under the tap for rinsing. He has no sleeves, and he's still wearing the clothing he slept in, which isn't much, so at least he is safe on that front.

"I'm going to do more than just rinsing rice," he says. "A four year old could accomplish this without a lot of instruction. It doesn't teach me anything." Barnaby pauses, letting the steady sound of swishing and the clink of metal against the sink fill the pause. "A couple girls asked me on dates. I said no. They stopped asking," Barnaby finishes, looking over at Kotetsu, a coolly irritated expression on his features.

It may or may not be the reason that people had stopped asking. He hadn't come by the charming demeanor he wore so well by chance. It had been work, hard work, and much coaching.

[virtigris]

"Well, are you here to learn, or are you here to earn points?" Kotetsu asks, tearing open the plastic encasing the hunk of prepared barbecue meat before placing it on top of a wooden cutting board, the pink food coloring smearing slightly against the grain. Snorting at the sight of Barnaby's expression, frustrated and put out, Kotetsu raises a thumb and brushes it along the line of Barnaby's brow, smoothing it out.

"If this is the look you gave them, of course they'd stop asking. This is the look you give your spouse after they've made you angry for the fifth time that week. Not the look you give a young girl who's put her heart on the line for you," he adds, flicking his fingertip against the furrow. "And it'll also age you prematurely. You'll end up looking like my age in a couple of years."

Reaching behind Barnaby and over to the knife block, Kotetsu selects a chef's knife before sliding back to the cutting board. "You're getting to that age, you know. Where you should really be thinking about who you want to live your life with. That apartment of yours back home really was too empty. You need someone in your life to keep you from getting lost in your own thoughts too much of the time."

[guidedrecall]

Barnaby sucks in a sharp breath at the touch of warm fingers against his forehead. He shouldn't be surprised that Kotetsu would take the liberty, but he's never had anyone touch him quite like that, not since his mother passed away. Not in twenty years. It leaves an impression, though it's a strange one, which he has difficulty unraveling. It feels like Kotetsu's fingers are still there, the heat lingering, even after they're gone and they're both back to work.

Barnaby's hands stop working the colander in the sink, and he reaches to turn the water off, green eyes studying Kotetsu plainly.

"My apartment's fine My life is fine. If I'm worried about getting lost in my thoughts, that's why I have you around, isn't it? That's all I need. Have I ever given you an indication I'm not satisfied with that?"

[virtigris]

If Barnaby's watching him in the moment, Kotetsu only feels it with a distant sort of awareness, more focused for the time being on cutting the pork into respectable strips. Because it seems like the sort of thing Barnaby would appreciate. Were it up to Kotetsu, he'd most likely go with a fast chop, something that gets the job done, but... cooking for someone else changes things a bit.

He hasn't done that in a while.

A small smile lingers on Kotetsu's lips as he works, reaching out briefly to push the bag of snow peas in Barnaby's direction, a soft and undemanding request.

"You also never gave anyone an indication that you weren't satisfied living in that apartment, before you met me. Am I right? You had a mission, but your daily life... was not something you thought needed to change," Kotetsu muses, lips slightly pursed. "I'm only saying, Bunny, that there are things you haven't experienced yet. But you should keep yourself open to the idea. Not that I don't appreciate the idea of having us grow old together, but I wouldn't want to get in the way of you finding something greater than that."

[guidedrecall]

Barnaby reaches for the bag, lingering with his hand clutched around it and uncertain what to do with it, before at least making it as far as tearing it open with a tear from his teeth and a quick tug. He holds the bag in his hands, a little lost, watching Kotetsu finish the job he's doing qith unquiet eyes.

Kotetsu is usually not so picky about doing things neatly. It must be for Barnaby's sake, for show.

"It's not like I'm not capable of thinking about it," he says, after a too-long, heavy pause. "There was someone I thought about, a girl, but just once. It never went anywhere. I didn't think she would have reciprocated, and I was really young, so I gave up." He presses his lips together. "I'm just not interested any more now than before Maverick was found out. I'm not closed off I'm just not interested. I'm happy being here for you. Isn't that alright?"

It isn't a rhetorical question -- the look on Barnaby's face is as serious as the tone of voice. He does want some confirmation that saying something like that isn't wrong. Whether it's approval or frustration, he needs an answer from Kotetsu.

[virtigris]

Kotetsu continues chopping, cutting the silence of the room with the sound of his blade hitting the wood. Perhaps it's just difficult having this conversation with Barnaby while, as he's said, he just isn't interested. Hasn't found anyone who piques his attention in that way. Hypothetical scenarios and rhetorical questions can only go so far, especially if Barnaby's never experienced that feeling of wanting to form a life with another person. To walk together, to carve out a space in their heart, in their home.

To take that terrifying leap across the abyss and let oneself think of forever, even in a world where forever doesn't exist.

"If you ask me to be honest, of course. This selfish old man would never raise a hand against the thought of spending time with you. With my partner. Hasn't it been fun, Bunny? These past couple of years together..." One of the pieces ends up slightly shredded, and Kotetsu pops the pork into his mouth, giving it a thoughtful bite. "I'm thinking of you when I say not to keep your heart closed off. Maybe it's trying to relieve myself of the guilt I'd feel in monopolizing your time."

[guidedrecall]

"It's Barnaby," he says to Kotetsu, dropping the open bag of peas on the counter and leaning against it, bending around the counter-top to catch Kotetsu's eye while he works. He's irritated with the way this conversation is going, for reasons he doesn't think he can communicate. He isn't bad with words, necessarily, but the expression of how he's feeling, it just isn't a vocabulary that he has a great grasp on. He does what he can. He feels clumsy. He hates it. He would rather just not do it.

But it's worth the effort, with this man.

"Fun? It's something more than fun, isn't it?" He knows he must be red again, because he can feel the heat this time, prickling painfully all the way down his arms, across his chest, creeping up the back of his neck. "The only thing I've been interested in for the past year is you Waiting for you to come back. Going back to you. Because I knew you would. I thought that there was no way we wouldn't get the chance to be together again. The only thing I want is you, that's my whole picture. That's complete. That's what would make me happy, being with you."

[virtigris]

The realization dawns on him... slowly. Not even consciously, at first. Kotetsu feels a warmth that starts to creep over his skin, starting with his cheekbones and spreading uncomfortably down his neck. This isn't some emphatic speech about the both of them as partners in the hero business. This is Barnaby's whole picture, for better or worse — the way that he frames his existence.

Kotetsu nearly forgets to drop his knife first before scratching at the back of his neck, stunned as he feels, like the whole world's spun to a stop at his feet.

"It's more than fun," he says first, tone almost petulant in its delivery. "Of course it's more than just fun."

There's a certain element of youth evident in Barnaby's eyes right now, the green striking a contrast with the flush of his skin. Rosy. Barnaby's complexion is rosier than anyone else's Kotetsu has known.

Do you really know what you're saying? he wants to ask, but it feels too condescending. Demeaning. And maybe lacking in trust.

"You could have visited," Kotetsu says lamely, dropping his arm down to the counter, shivering as his skin meets the cool surface.

[guidedrecall]

Pressing his lips together again, biting them as if to keep words from sneaking out before Barnaby is ready for them to, he lowers his head, hiding the angry heat of his face behind the thick fall of the fringe of his bangs and the frames of his glasses. He doesn't feel worse for having said what he did to Kotetsu, though he thought he would have. Neither does he particularly feel relieved, either. He just feels a little at a loss, unsure how to step forward. The look on Kotetsu's face makes it clear Barnaby can't go back.

"Maybe," Barnaby says. "But I knew when you were ready you would come back I didn't know I would come back with you until that night. But something happened. And I did. But if I'd have come to visit, would you have come back because you felt guilty? Or because it was time, and because you wanted to? I didn't have the right to insert myself into your life with your family, did I? That's what this was, for a year. Proving to myself that I deserved to have this. That whatever it was that I was feeling was capable of being reciprocated. It's a strange feeling to worry that someone is more important to you than you are to them."

By the end, Barnaby is speaking to himself, more than the other man He'd wondered why he hadn't gone to visit, himself.

[virtigris]

"Bu — Barnaby," Kotetsu murmurs, his nails digging uncomfortably against the back of his neck before he steps forward, closing the space between the two of them. He's never seen Barnaby like this. Doesn't know where to start, or how even to process the impossible gap between where he'd perceived their partnership to be and the reality of the young man in front of him, his normally broad shoulders bowed with clear uncertainty.

With a soft exhale, Kotetsu reaches up with his hand, threading his fingers comfortingly through Barnaby's hair. The strands are fine, even softer than Kotetsu anticipated, but he focuses instead on massaging the scalp and smoothing away the tension.

Barnaby seems to hold more of that in than most people Kotetsu's known.

"I guess this is what happens when I'm not there to watch over you, huh? All this talk about being deserving and proving yourself, the same standards you've always built for yourself. You're always your harshest critic, Barnaby," Kotetsu sighs, letting his fingers splay over the back of Barnaby's neck and pulling him closer. "I started thinking of you as family a long time ago, Barnaby. I couldn't have returned to the business without thinking of you at all. I just didn't think you ever wanted to return. I thought you really were... finding yourself."

[guidedrecall]

Two years ago, the hand would have made Barnaby tense. He would have thrown away that small comfort, from Kotetsu or anyone else, no matter how sorely-needed it had been. Barnaby doesn't throw the attention off now. He lets the hand rest, warm, not surreal, in his hair and around the back of his neck.

He gives himself the chance to breathe, to try to force the ignorant heat off of his face. Lifting a hand, he moves it over his shoulder, trapping Kotetsu's hand where it is, curled around the base of his neck.

"I found myself. My parents would have wanted me to be happy, and to help people. That's what I want to do. But I want to do it with you. I'm not saying I'm sticking you in there as some sort of proxy for normal relationships, so you'd damn well better not be trying to turn this into that. I'm saying, I ... "

He's hit a wall. He's hit the extent to which he can grasp what he's feeling, and admit it. It isn't just the poor practice of unfamiliarity, and Barnaby knows it, and that makes it worse. It's also that he is still terrified he's going to get an insufficient answer.

Never knowing would be better than being dismissed. He would rather stop himself from pursuing it any further.

[virtigris]

Obliviousness came easily when Barnaby hid his emotions under that careful veneer. Although Kotetsu does his best to be aware of where the people around him are mentally and emotionally, he's also learned to respect that certain people need space, and that a guiding hand can be just as much of a distraction as it can be a help. That one touch can tip the balance irreversibly.

But Barnaby has none of his trademark calm now, long fingers warm around the curve of Kotetsu's hand, and eyes bright behind the protection of his frames. Kotetsu would be foolish not to notice, and he does his best to hide the momentary quiver in his own hand as he leans in closer, pressing his forehead against Barnaby's.

The buried habit surfaces with an ache. He hasn't allowed himself this type of closeness in years — not since Tomoe passed away — but when presented with the moment, it feels like walking down a worn path. As though, at some point, Barnaby slipped in without Kotetsu's notice.

It feels like coming home, only Kotetsu can't remember when he moved in.

His brow furrows for only a moment before he closes the remaining distance between the both of them, hand tightening against the nape of Barnaby's neck as he seeks out the curve of his lips for a tentative kiss. Asking for reassurance, rather than permission.