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Title:  Immutable Facts
Rating:  G
Fandom:  Kamen Rider Ghost
Character(s):  Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto
Summary:  There are many things that are just accepted as common truth in a temple filled with the supernatural.  Supernatural AU, Werewolf!Fukamis
Warning(s):  None


There are some immutable facts about Takeru’s life that he’s come to accept ever since coming to take care of his father’s temple and the people within.  One, is that Alain absolutely loves takoyaki and despite being half ectoplasmic energies or whatever constitutes a sort of corporeal being who doesn’t really need to eat to live he practically lives off of that stuff.  Two, is that despite being confronted with supernatural presences almost every day of her life Akari is still strictly married to science.  Though Igor wants to say otherwise, but Igor and Akari is a complicated mess in and of itself.  Three, Onari, Shibuya, and Narita always make sure everyone is free for Saturday Night Temple Grill Parties--SNTGP for short.


And four...four...it’s that Fukami Makoto, childhood friend of Takeru and Alain, has this odd fascination with smelling Takeru.  Always has, always will, and while Alain sometimes acts offended that Makoto is so attached to Takeru at the hip he always just brushes it off as some “ridiculous dog thing that only the Fukamis will understand.”


Because Fukami Makoto and Fukami Kanon are werewolves.


They’re stronger than the average human, have a better sense of smell than the average human, and overall perform better than the average human.  Takeru still hasn’t forgotten the time when Kanon, frustrated with Narita, hefted the young man over her shoulder and easily tossed him over the side of the temple porch and into the bushes.  He couldn’t even struggle out of her grip.


Which means that Takeru has long since silently resigned himself to the inevitable fate of being held and...smelled.


“I really don’t smell that good,” Takeru mumbles, plopping his book in his lap.  Makoto is pressed up against his back, arms wrapped tight around Takeru’s waist and his nose buried in Takeru’s neck.  


“You do,” Makoto answers.  “Like cinnamon and lily flowers.”


Takeru chokes at that, “L-lily flowers!?”


Isn’t that harmful to animals?  Or wait, isn’t it just cats?  Speaking of cats where’s Yurusen--


Takeru yelps, startled, as Makoto inhales again.  If Takeru listens closely, he can hear the soft swishing noises Makoto’s tail is making.  Which means that Makoto is absolutely pleased about doing this and Takeru doesn’t even know why.


“Aren’t cinnamon and lilies a clash, though?” Takeru asks.  “Wouldn’t they smell bad together?”


“Not really,” Makoto’s growling softly in the back of his throat, nose sliding up Takeru’s neck and nuzzling behind his ear.  Takeru’s trembling, his grip on his history book tight.


“Makoto, please,” Takeru whines, “I don’t get it--”


“You smell good.”  And that’s that according to Makoto, because as all these sessions go he doesn’t become content with smelling Takeru and he has to taste him.  Takeru shivers as he feels the warm swipe of Makoto’s tongue against his neck, strong hands gripping his jaw and turning his head so that they can kiss.


Or they would if the door didn’t slide open right that very second and Alain made a gagging noise.


“Get a room, you two,” he says, and Kanon peeks her head out from around him.


“Takeru, Big brother!” she chirps.  “Onari-san wanted us to come get you to let you know that the grill party is ready!”


Takeru groans, flopping forward.  


Immutable fact five:  Without fail, Onari will always find a way to cockblock Makoto.

 

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