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Chapter Text

It is really is like having Shuten sitting right in front of him. Everything is replicated perfectly: her half-lidded, violet eyes; the slow, fluid, movements of her limbs; the corner of her mouth that is always twitched up in a smirk; even the sweet smell of sake seems to float around her. It’s uncanny.

That Shuten chuckles and her voice is a perfect re-creation, too. “Fufu, are you nervous, boy? Don’t be—it’s just me.”

Kintoki isn’t sure which “me” Yan Qing is talking about, but he also isn’t sure why he agreed to Yan Qing’s suggestion in the first place. Yan Qing had caught Kintoki in the cafeteria earlier in the day and the two had begun chatting, easily and simply enough. At some point the topic of conversation had shifted to Shuten and Kintoki’s relationship with her; Kintoki insisted that there’s nothing between them but Yan Qing had just grinned and leaned closer across the table, telling Kintoki in a conspiratorial tone that it’s obvious to everyone in Chaldea that there’s something going on and feel free to tell him about it because they’re both men, after all.

Kintoki had blanched at the idea that things with Shuten are apparently so transparent to others that "everyone knows", but it didn’t seem so bad to take Yan Qing up on his offer of being a confidant and get his advice; it might be helpful to talk to someone other than Master for some different insights. However, the rabbit hole just kept getting deeper as Yan Qing asked more questions, and it all somehow culminated with Kintoki admitting to the fact that he doesn’t know how to act around Shuten or know what to do with her when they’re alone together. Yan Qing’s green eyes had lit up with a devious sparkle and he assured Kintoki that he had just the way to help him out.

So, that’s how they ended up here, in Kintoki’s room, sitting apart on the bed with Yan Qing transformed into her. Even knowing it’s not really Shuten, Kintoki can’t help his hands from subtly trembling or keep a lump from forming in his throat. This is definitely not a situation that can be called “golden” . . .

A soft hand splays across Kintoki’s forearm, which breaks him out of his reverie and all but makes him jump out of his skin. “Were you thinking about someone else, hmm? You’ll hurt my feelings, you know. I may be an oni but I still have the heart of a maiden.”

“N-No, I wasn’t thinkin’ about no one else.” Kintoki sputters and remembers that this is supposed to be practice for the real thing, so he adds something she'd probably want to hear, “It was ‘bout you.”

Shuten’s face smiles wickedly. “Oh? And what were you fantasizing about me?”

“I, uh, it was—”

“Well? Don’t get shy on me now, boy. Answer properly.”

Yan Qing crawls over and closes the distance between them; he straddles one of Kintoki’s knees, puts both of Shuten’s arms over his shoulders, and crosses her wrists behind Kintoki’s neck. Kintoki’s face heats up immediately and he tries to pull his head back to create some distance between them, but the way that Yan Qing has locked the two of them together prevents that.

Damn it, this is way too much like the real thing! Kintoki’s head is fuzzy and he can’t think up some kind of coherent response. Why did they start with something this high-level, anyway?

Kintoki is still stammering, and Yan Qing must have decided that he needs to take the lead because he says, “Were you thinking about me doing this?” and then there’s lips on Kintoki’s own. Kintoki freezes up with his back straight and stiff. Shuten has kissed him in teasing, in passing, before just to rile him up; feather-light and barely even more than a brushing of lips. So, he has no idea what to do with these lips that are incessantly pressing against his own.

There’s the feeling of Yan Qing’s—wait, it’s Shuten’s, isn’t it?—tongue pressing apart his lips and suddenly Kintoki is up on his feet, looking down at Shuten’s body sprawled on her back across the bed. The image of Shuten dissolves and reveals Yan Qing’s own form. He’s laughing and props himself up on an elbow to look at Kintoki.

“Man, you’re way too funny,” Yan Qing says. “I wasn’t expecting that type of reaction at all!”

Kintoki is sure his face has to be red because it feels like he’s been caught in Jeanne Alter’s Noble Phantasm. His mind is reeling, and he can’t think all that clearly—was that cheating? Did that count as cheating? Well, it’s not like he and Shuten are an item or anything yet, but there’s definitely something there so when does it become cheating to kiss someone else? And it was Shuten’s image he kissed but it was still Yan Qing, really, but the kiss didn’t feel bad so what does all that mean, anyway?! This ain’t golden at all.

“My bad,” Kintoki mumbles and makes a vague gesture with his hand to refer to how he had shoved Yan Qing when he surged to his feet.

“It’s a‘ight,” Yan Qing shrugs with a certain carelessness as he sits up. He crosses an ankle over one leg and puts his elbow on top of his knee, resting his chin in his hand. Yan Qing smiles, “You wanna try again?”

There’s no way Kintoki’s nerves can handle any more, but how do you just walk away from a situation like this? He racks his brain for an answer, then happens to catch sight of his watch out of the corner of his eye and it’s like a light bulb going off. Kintoki brings his watch up close to his face with an exaggerated motion and pretends to look at the time.

“Damn, I’m supposed ta be meetin’ Master in the simulator—I gotta go!” Kintoki isn’t one to lie, but it’s the best way he can think of to get out of this.

Without even waiting for a response, Kintoki turns on his heel and practically bolts from the room. Kintoki walks so fast that he’s almost halfway down the hall when Yan Qing sticks his head out from the door and calls, “Hey! You know this is your own room, right?” 

Chapter Text

Yan Qing stretches his arms over his head, lazily wandering Chaldea’s corridors without any sort of destination in mind. It’s been a few weeks since he had offered to give Kintoki some help with his relationship, which really had been more for Yan Qing’s entertainment than for Kintoki. But seriously, Kintoki’s such a funny guy! Yan Qing hadn’t predicted Kintoki would get so worked up, nor did he see it coming that he would’ve ran out of his own room. Hilarious.

He wouldn’t change anything about what’d happened, but Yan Qing does have one little regret; more like being aware of a missed opportunity. But he wishes that he had played it up more when he had climbed on top of Kintoki. Honestly, the dude is built—it’s a crying shame that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to feel up those massive muscles.

Yan Qing looks ahead and speak of the devil, there’s the Golden Boy himself crossing the hallway that intersects the one he’s walking down. Well, looks like it’s time to test out the idea he came up with to rectify that tragically missed opportunity. Yan Qing smiles to himself and quickens his pace to intercept Kintoki.

“Yo, Kintoki,” Yan Qing calls out and raises his arm up in a wave.

Kintoki pauses and looks over his shoulder, “Oh, Yan Qing. What’s up?”

For about a week immediately following their little session, Kintoki had been as skittish as a feral kitten whenever he happened to be near Yan Qing. Yan Qing had been able to tell that Kintoki would look anywhere except directly at him, and he had detected a faint coloring of pink just underneath the frames of Kintoki’s sunglasses more than once. It seems like Kintoki’s finally mellowed out again now, though.

Yan Qing comes to a stop a little ways in front of Kintoki and tilts his head up to look at him. “You familiar with pro-wrestling?”

“’Course I am!” Kintoki exclaims and points at himself with his thumb. “It’s totally golden! Why d’ya ask?”

“I wanted to know if you’d go a few rounds in the ring with me. How about it?”

Kintoki furrows his brows, “Well, wouldn’t that saint or that luchadora be better for that type ‘a thing? I’m more of a sumo sorta guy, myself.”

“No way,” Yan Qing keeps his voice light and waves his hand dismissively. “They’d pin me in no time. Unlike them, we’re both amateurs, so it’s a good match-up. C’mon, what do you say?”

Kintoki appears to think it over for a moment, then smiles. “Alright, let’s do it, golden-style!” They bump fists.

Not very long later, Yan Qing is in Chaldea’s gym, standing across the ring from Kintoki. Well now, a little bit of disguised pretenses never hurt anybody, did it? It’s not like Yan Qing had lied about wanting to wrestle Kintoki—he’d take up that offer any day—it’s just that his reason for wanting to this time wasn’t solely athletic in nature. And Kintoki had been so easy to convince; he really is like an oversized golden retriever.

Yan Qing had taken off his gauntlets and belt and now stands in just his trousers with knee pads and wrestling shoes he borrowed in the locker room. Kintoki, on the other hand, had stripped to the waist and chosen to wear a pair of Chaldea athletic shorts. Yan Qing wonders if Kintoki is aware of how tight those shorts are on him. It’s almost distracting, with how the hems stretch across the thick muscle of Kintoki’s thighs.

Yan Qing cracks his knuckles and bounces on the balls of his feet as he looks across the ring. His body hums with the adrenaline he feels before a fight, but there’s an undercurrent of a different sort of excitement, too. He sizes Kintoki up: while Yan Qing is well-muscled, Kintoki is taller and has more weight on him. But he isn’t worried about that—he’s gone up against wrestlers bigger than himself before. But unlike the match against Ren Yuan during his life, Yan Qing isn’t going to use trickery to win. Although, he also isn’t entering this with any intention of winning.

The timed bell they had set up dings, but rather than go at it immediately they stay to the edges of the ring and try to predict what the other will do. Kintoki makes the first move, coming at Yan Qing with his right arm out. Yan Qing ducks underneath then turns on his heel and catches how Kintoki falls against the ropes and quickly bounces back to charge his momentum forward. Yan Qing puts his strength into his legs and jumps as Kintoki gets close, moving into a dropkick that connects with Kintoki’s jaw and whips his head to the side.

The two of them fall to the mat, Yan Qing twisting with the energy of his kick so that he lands on his arms while Kintoki ends up on his back. Yan Qing pushes himself up and grabs Kintoki’s legs to maneuver him onto his stomach, and with his hands behind Kintoki’s knees, pulls him along as he steps over Kintoki’s midsection and squats down over his hips. Kintoki’s legs are bent up backwards towards his back and he grunts underneath Yan Qing while attempting to get some leverage with his arms and shoulders; Yan Qing, meanwhile, takes the moment to revel in the feeling of how his thighs box in Kintoki’s own. Yan Qing knows that the power behind those muscles is no joke as he struggles to keep his hold as Kintoki comes up underneath him and twists his body to throw Yan Qing off and to the side.

The air is knocked out of Yan Qing’s lungs as his back hits the mat and he’s momentarily stunned, trying to get a breath in. He catches sight of Kintoki’s shoes in his periphery vision and then Kintoki’s thick, blunt fingers tangle in the roots of Yan Qing’s hair and pull; Yan Qing groans, the tugging on his scalp actually pleasant, as Kintoki hauls him to his feet. Kintoki is close behind Yan Qing and use a hand to twist one of Yan Qing’s arms behind his own back while wrapping his other arm underneath Yan Qing’s free one so that they’re holding onto each other’s shoulders. And, maybe, Yan Qing uses this to step back a little closer than he needs to and press his ass against Kintoki’s crotch in those tight shorts.

Kintoki didn't seem to notice and goes straight into the next position, bending his knees and falling backwards, which lifts Yan Qing’s feet off the ground and forces him to fall with Kintoki. They hit the mat together, but Kintoki now comes up between Yan Qing’s legs and pins him with one arm underneath his knee and the other across Yan Qing’s midriff as he leans over his body. They don’t have a referee, so Kintoki does the count with the hand that’s across Yan Qing’s body and can touch the mat. Yan Qing has no intention of throwing things just yet, but he does take the moment to appreciate the weight of Kintoki’s body on top of him and how Kintoki’s pecs press against his inner-thigh.

Yan Qing kicks out on the second count so they both get back up on their feet, panting and sweating underneath the bright gym lights. This time Yan Qing is the one to run forward, but Kintoki gets a hold of Yan Qing’s arm and spins him around so that he’s heading for the ropes. As he runs, Yan Qing lets his upper body fall forward and kicks his legs up so that he tumbles into a handstand, his hands smarting and the pain shooting up his forearms as he hits the mat. His momentum keeps his legs going and they bounce back against the ropes, which Yan Qing uses to his advantage to get his feet on the ground and then launch himself into a backflip. Kintoki has no choice but to duck down and catch Yan Qing, his broad hands spreading out across Yan Qing’s knees to stabilize him. Yan Qing takes a few hits at Kintoki’s before crossing his legs at Kintoki’s neck and letting himself fall backwards off Kintoki’s shoulders, using Kintoki’s own weight against him to bring them both down.

It was a bad—but planned—move because Yan Qing takes the brunt of the impact as Kintoki lands half on top of him. They’re both dazed, breathless, and Yan Qing can’t even attempt to get up with how Kintoki is laying over his legs. Not that he had any intentions of getting up this time, though. Which is why he acts like he’s still down as Kintoki rolls over onto his knees and crawls to be parallel with his head.

Kintoki pins one of Yan Qing’s arms back with a hand while wrapping his other arm around Yan Qing’s neck and putting him into a headlock. It hurts, of course, but Yan Qing feels almost drunk on his adrenaline and on the sticky heat rolling off Kintoki’s body; a moan slips from Yan Qing’s lips but he manages to cover it up as a rough and low grunt. The headlock is sturdy, just like the muscle pressing against his head, and Yan Qing struggles and kicks his legs just to make it seem like he’s not throwing the outcome even as he’s doing just that. Kintoki doesn’t let up, and Yan Qing taps out with his free arm.

As soon as Yan Qing taps three, the pressure on his throat and arm is released as Kintoki lets go and steps back. Yan Qing stays lying on the mat and sucks in deep breaths as he pushes his sweaty bangs back from his forehead. He looks up at Kintoki and watches the way Kintoki’s large chest rises and falls as he regulates his breathing. In the back of his head, Yan Qing wonders how Kintoki managed to keep those sunglasses on those entire time without even putting a crack in them.

Kintoki’s face breaks into a bright smile and he leans over Yan Qing, extending a hand. “Your moves were hella golden! ‘Amatuer’? Nah, you’re the real deal.”

“Thanks,” Yan Qing pants, “you’re pretty good, too.”

“You up for another match?”

Yan Qing’s mouth quirks into a smirk and he grabs Kintoki’s outstretched hand.

That night, Yan Qing leans back heavily against his pillow and moans into his shoulder. His hand works steadily, and his eyes fall shut as images and sensations from earlier in the day come back to him: rough but controlled power, sweat glistening off planes of muscle, a body truly deserving to be called “Berserker”.