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Title:  Gentlest Touch
Rating:  G
Fandom:  Doubutsu Sentai Zyuohger
Character(s):  Mondo Misao, Kazakiri Yamato
Summary:  Misao, Yamato, and Misao's want for comfort when it all becomes too much.
Warning(s):  None
 

“Micchan, it’s okay.  Micchan.”

Yamato’s words are soothing and his hands even more so.  Each glide--smooth and comforting--up and down his back making the hiccuping breaths subside and keeping the tears from falling out.  Yamato doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t tell Misao to get over it or think about something else.  He just holds him close, mumbling nonsensical things and telling him that everything will be fine they’re here.

They’re all here.

No more Genis, no more mind control, just earth and the dirt under his feet, the quiet babbling of rivers and the quiet warmth of human companionship.  

“You won’t be alone anymore, Micchan.”

Misao sniffs, words stumbling over a hiccup, and he doesn’t say anything else.

The cycle repeats itself once, twice, more times than Misao likes and each time Yamato is there with comforting words and comforting hands.  

Misao doesn’t know if the attachment he forms is from the fact that he’s had simple human contact or if he’s genuinely in love with Kazakiri Yamato.  The Jyumans inside of him argue at that.  Violent and loud and pushing against him this way and that.

There’s no way you’re in love--you’re just picking at scraps he doesn’t care for you like that! The wolf howls.

It has to be!  You always get so warm on the inside and so happy, and he’s so willing to give you a hand! The crocodile bellows, guttural and laughing.

We can’t be too sure--assumptions get us nowhere.  But...it’s not that hard to make a leap of faith, is it? And like always, the rhinoceros wins them all over.

There’s nothing wrong with trying to go that one step forward, Misao thinks.  But he’s painfully aware that one misstep and everything he and Yamato has goes crumbling.  He’s pushed and urged, come on, one step--

One step--

But Misao stays adamantly where he is.  He is comforted by Yamato, and in turn he tries to be as good a friend as he can.  He tries to see if maybe Yamato’s gaze lingers on him, just a bit, or if there’s any tell tale signs that Yamato may like him.  Yamato, despite his animal being an eagle, is not a bird.  There are no feathers to display, nothing to show he’s interested.

Misao cannot read humans (he cannot read animals, either, but that’s not important anymore when most of your friend group is animals).

In the end, it is Yamato who makes the first move.  He does it after another nightmare, another sharp pang of fear and anxiety, leaves Misao gasping and crying.  It’s not his fault, no, he’s sorry, please, please that leaves him trembling like the earth when everything shifts and quakes.  Violently, painfully, and Misao barely registers the hands on him and the words whispered in his ear.

It’s okay.

No it’s not.

I’m here.

Are you really?

Micchan.

Yamato.

Misao clings, but he doesn’t calm, not until he feels that first brush of lips pressed delicately against the curve of his cheek.  It makes his heart jolt, clench, and in a fit of desperateness and impulse Misao moves to catch Yamato’s lips in his own.  A wet press of lips, his sliding clumsily along Yamato’s and slicking them with his tears and spit because Misao’s never really mastered the art of elegance.

He can throw a line out perfectly, fight with his pole like it’s an extension of his arm, but this is out of his depth.  This is not what he’s used to, not what he expected.

He certainly doesn’t expect Yamato to kiss back.  

Yamato lets Misao control the kiss.  He lets Misao press back when he’s sure, lets him click their teeth together because he doesn’t quite know how to move just yet or what’s the best placement for his mouth.  Yamato continues to hold onto him, tightens his fist every now and then in the fabric of Misao’s shirt.

When they part Misao’s lips feel sore, Yamato’s are shiny, and Misao is still shaking.  He’s no longer as panicked as before.

“Micchan?” Yamato whispers.  “Micchan, are--”

Misao leans forward again, the kiss tender and chaste.  Yamato kisses back, moves his lips against Misao and Misao does the only thing he can which is kiss back.  Kiss back and push back until Yamato is flat on his back, Misao hovering over him with his heart beating its wings furiously in his chest.

“I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay.”

Yamato’s smile is gentle.

“...I think I like you,” Misao admits, because he can’t stand the silence.  He can’t stand seeing Yamato (perfect and patient and everything Misao is undeserving of) smiling at him and not say anything, can’t stand the silence after a kiss.

Yamato’s smile blooms.

“You think?” It’s airy and light, just like Yamato, just like a robin.

“I do,” Misao corrects himself.  “I really do like you.”

“I like you, too, Misao.”

Misao chokes back another sob, burying his face into Yamato’s shoulder and letting him hug him close.

 

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