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The rain had been pouring for over an hour now, and Zen was getting worried. Not about the rain itself, or even about his current situation—huddled in a damp, cold cave with Shirayuki, he could honestly say that he hadn't felt this happy in a long time. At first they'd sat at a reasonable distance from each other, but as the minutes ticked by the distance had shrunk until it disappeared entirely. Now Zen could feel Shirayuki as a warm weight against his side, her floral scent invading his nose. Her red hair curled slightly at the end as it dried, and when Zen wasn't staring out at the curtain of rain his eyes were drawn to it, and then to the hollow of Shirayuki's throat, and then… All in all, it would have been a fine way to pass an hour if not for the fact that Obi had been gone the whole time, even though he'd said he would just quickly look around for better accommodations to wait out the rain.
"Obi will be fine," Shirayuki said.
Zen shot her a glance and saw her smile up at him. Of course she'd know he was thinking about Obi, because she would be thinking about him too.
"I know," he said. "Obi can take care of himself."
Obi's skill was without question, but in the past he'd shown a worrying lack of concern about his own well-being and that was the part that made Zen nervous.
"He can and he will," Shirayuki said. "He wouldn't want us to worry."
She spoke with confidence and Zen had no choice but to believe her. Shirayuki and Obi had spent so much time together those past few months, she must have seen sides of Zen's knight that he wouldn't have. Zen probably should have been jealous about that, but he wasn't—or at least, not the angry kind of jealous. He couldn't be mad at Obi for spending a lot of time with Shirayuki when he was the one who'd made it happen. If he felt anything, it was a wistful sort of envy about the fact that they saw so much of each other without him. He yearned for more time with her—but no, that wasn't quite accurate. He yearned for more time with them.
"If you say so," he said to Shirayuki, "then I know Obi will be fine."
As if summoned by the conversation, Obi's dark figure emerged out of the rain and into the cave, dripping all over the rocky ground.
"You took your time!" Zen told him, finding it easier to exorcise his worry through irritation.
"Master, you're so cold!" Obi said airily. "I couldn't find anything close, so I decided to extend my perimeter a little. I have to tell you that my efforts were fruitless, unfortunately. It looks like we'll have to spend the night here."
"It's fine," Shirayuki said, "but you should take off your wet clothes if you don't want to get sick. I'll make a fire."
Obi had already taken off his cowl and was wringing the water out of it. Zen watched him and the way he moved—not clumsy or hesitant, because it never was, but careful and a little too slow.
"You're injured," he said. "What happened?"
Obi didn't look surprised. "Observant as always, master!" he said, his eyes crinkling with laughter. Everything Zen did or said seemed to amuse him greatly, but Zen was past taking it the wrong way. "I met with a little trouble on the way. I was in a hurry to get back to you and got careless. It was very amateurish of me and I apologize for that."
"Where are you hurt?" Shirayuki asked urgently, "You have to—"
"Oh, I know," Obi said. "Already on it, miss."
He took off his shirt swiftly and without a hint of modesty, before settling cross-legged in front of them. A series of bruises were darkening on his chest, right under the long scar that underlined his collarbone. It looked like something Obi wouldn't have given a second thought to not that long ago, but he submitted himself to Shirayuki's care with good-natured cheer.
Zen enjoyed watching Shirayuki work. The look of intense focus on her face, the precision and gentleness in her gestures encompassed everything he loved about her. When she was caring for someone, she was in her element. She became everything she was supposed to be, everything she wanted to be. When she was caring for Obi, yet another layer was added to that. Zen wouldn't be able to put it into words but he knew it was there.
Quite naturally, Zen went from watching Shirayuki to watching Obi. Seeing Obi without a shirt on was an unremarkable spectacle. Zen had seen it all before and it was just another bare-chested man, after all. Not like seeing Shirayuki without clothing would be—and here Zen had to quell that thought ruthlessly before he blushed so hard that the other two could read it on his face. But Zen watched as Shirayuki rubbed a balm into Obi's bruises, drawing deep circles, and maybe it was that the movement had a hypnotic quality to it but he found himself studying closely the pattern of scars that were etched on Obi's skin, the muscles on his arms and chest, the loose posture he had adopted. Obi always looked nonchalant, but Zen could tell the difference: here, with Shirayuki and himself, Obi was truly relaxed in a way he rarely allowed others to see.
The loud drumming from the rain outside seemed to drown every coherent thought in Zen's mind. He felt strangely warm, even as he knew that it was still quite cold in the cave. He examined Obi's face and noticed that Obi was watching Shirayuki, his mouth quirked at the corner and his eyes soft and kind. Then he raised his head, saw Zen looking at him, and addressed him a beaming smile.
There was no rhyme or reason to what Zen did next. No thought crossed his mind. He simply leaned in, bringing his face close to Obi's, and kissed him. His lips were cold and wet. When Zen pulled away, Obi was looking back at him with wide eyes.
"Master," he said, then seemed to be at a loss on what to say. It was a little satisfying to see him left with no words, for once.
"I'm sorry," Zen said, feeling himself get red in the face.
The blessed, unthinking certainty that had inhabited him for a moment was deserting him. For all the inappropriate comments Obi had made, he'd never acted in a way that crossed the line as clearly as Zen had just done. Shirayuki closed the lid on her healing balm. Hair fell into her eyes when she bowed her head and the fact that he couldn't read her made Zen's throat close up.
"I don't know what I was thinking," he said, frantically trying to think of a way he could salvage this.
"I didn't think it was that bad," Obi said, making a face. "Maybe not the best kiss I've ever got, but—"
"Hey!" Zen exclaimed, stupidly offended.
"No offense, master."
If Obi had more idiotic things to say, then he didn't have the opportunity, because Shirayuki cupped his face and pressed her mouth to his, gentle but insistent. It made Obi still completely and Zen forgot how to breathe. To see their two faces brought together, Shirayuki's hand curled around Obi's jaw, unlocked something in him that he hadn't known was even there. It was the answer to a question he'd never asked; it was a present on a day when there was no celebration.
They separated, and Obi took a shaky breath that sounded like a strangled laugh. "Well, master, young miss. I didn't know it was my birthday today."
"We don't know when your birthday is," Zen told him reproachfully.
"I don't even know myself, so I decree it must be today."
"You cannot decree your birthday. You can't decree anything, actually!"
Shirayuki burst out laughing and the sound alleviated Zen's fears. Obi started laughing too, a little incredulously, and Zen was helpless against the pull of their combined mirth. Soon enough they were all chuckling, the mood turned light and giddy. Zen wasn't sure of the ramifications of what had just happened, but it occurred to him that it may not upset the dynamics between them too much. Zen would always feel a tug in his heart whenever they were away from him. He would always find some comfort in the thought that at least they were together.
And in their presence he would always feel like this, happy and serene and like he could take on any challenge as long as they were by his side. Colored spots had bloomed on Shirayuki's cheeks like two lovely flowers, whether from laughter or embarrassment about how she'd acted; Obi, still shirtless, had thrown his head back from laughing, leaving his throat bare and vulnerable. Having them here with him, solid and real, was a blessing that Zen knew he shouldn't take for granted. When he reached out for them, this time the thoughts were flitting in his mind like a cloud of butterflies.