Work Text:
Living for 150 plus years as an eternal 20-something has taught Sol several things. Among them, a few have remained consistent throughout the years: never expect genuine goodwill from strangers, the easiest people to trick are the loud ones, and everyone has a pattern of predictability.
Between his prickly demeanor and tendency to answer most questions with a gruff “mind your own business” or “that’s not my problem”, Sol angered even the most patient of saints.
Over time, Sol started automatically categorizing the responses he received into three separate categories.
Type A was the mildest, though not any less annoying than the two others. People who had just met him or were trying way too hard to remain friendly tended to use the type A tone. Type B was the most common. He’d dealt with type B lecturing almost daily during his stint with the Holy Knights, what with the pint-sized blond kid following him all the time.
If someone spoke to him with the type C tone, it meant Sol intended to never cross paths with the speaker again, lest he bash their head in.
Ky had always exceeded expectations.
The first time Ky spoke to him in a type C tone had been the night Sol defected from the Holy Order and taken the Fuuenken. It had been pouring, but even then, Ky’s voice had cut through the pounding rain, “You’ve made a fool of me for the last time. Sol!”
However brief, Sol’s breath had hitched. He’d quickly squared his shoulders and willed any feelings away. “You better not just be showing off,” he’d scoffed mere seconds before they clashed.
Victorious, Sol had walked away from that fight believing he wouldn’t see Ky again.
To his surprise and general disgruntlement, the boy had shown up again and again. And again. And again, each time calling out to him enraged.
Some time after Sol had taken Sin under his wing, Ky’s furious shouting diminished to snappy admonishment to fond exasperation. There were times when Ky would force him to mentally backpedal, wondering how their conversation led to the other smiling softly with a hint of playfulness, or even fondness, in his voice. Those moments he couldn’t categorize.
Sol placed the empty glass on the table. The couch sank further beneath him as he relaxed into it. He leaned back, head lolling over to watch Ky return to diligently writing more reports. No matter how many years passed, Sol doubted Ky would ever learned how to work a reasonable amount.
After a few minutes, Ky, likely sensing he was being watched, looked up and caught Sol’s eye. He paused, and then smiled in a way that made Sol once again reevaluate their supposed tentative friendship.
It was probably the alcohol and the amplified methodical scratching of Ky’s pen. No, most likely it was the stifling office with its minimalist decor and alphabetically organized books that probably hadn’t been cracked open even once. Or maybe, and Sol was loathe to admit it, maybe it was the fact that the last person he remembered smiling like that towards him had been Aria.
Before bounty hunting, before the gears, (hell, if he was being honest, most people had despised him when he’d been known as the scientist Frederick) Aria had broken through his barriers and had been one of the select few who didn’t talk to him like everyone else had. He hadn’t met anyone who he could even consider caring about as much as her until… until...
Whatever the reason was, Sol stood up, almost dumbly, and swayed over to Ky’s desk. He plucked the pen out of Ky’s hand, startling a laugh out of him.
“Stop working,” Sol grumbled.
“As I said before, we can switch seats anytime,” Ky said, amused.
Something warm coiled at the pit of Sol’s stomach. With one hand splayed onto the desk, he leaned over and grabbed the back of Ky’s head with the other.
Ky, who had let Sol seize the collar of his uniform without blinking during their argument on the Royal Fleet One, now too barely reacted— only a flicker of confusion crossing his face. It wasn’t too long ago that Ky would deflect Sol’s reaching hand without hesitation, even during Sol’s rare moments of camaraderie.
It was all wrong.
“Sol?” Ky said.
“Blame it on the whiskey,” Sol said before crashing their lips together.
It was one of the worst kisses he’d ever had. The angle was wrong and Ky’s glasses dug into his cheek. Sol couldn’t even relish the brief seconds their faces mashed together since Ky went entirely stock-still.
He needed to leave now. Just his luck, letting go of Ky seemed to kick him into functioning again. Sol clambered away as Ky fumbled with taking off his glasses; he wasn’t going to stick around for a reprimand.
“Sol, wait!” Ky’s voice cracked.
Type B, Sol’s brain unhelpfully supplied. Sol started moving faster.
He was halfway out the door when a clattering noise caught his attention. Against his better judgement, he turned to see fallen pens bouncing on the carpet amongst fluttering documents before a whirlwind of blond hair entered his vision. Ky barrelled into him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and burying his face into his chest.
“Must you always make things so difficult?” he said. Sol grunted and looked away. That was the type A voice.
“Sol, please.” Ky loosened his grip and stepped back. “Let’s talk inside?”
He could run for it. He could grab his motorcycle and go on with his usual life for so long that they both forget any of this happened. He’s walked away from Ky before.
Instead, he slowly nodded.
“Good.” Ky dropped his arms and smiled that warm smile. “Close the door behind you, will you?”
Sol blinked, and then grabbed the door handle. No sooner after the door clicked behind him, Ky surged against him.
“Dammit, Ky, I didn’t stay to fight—”
His protests quieted as desperate lips pressed against his. He kissed back easily, wrapping his arms around Ky’s waist.
Ky pulled back and took in a breath. Wasting no time, Sol leaned forward with single-minded intensity, pushing his tongue in when Ky gasped.
Slender hands scrabbled at his back before gripping the base of his neck in a stronghold. Spurred on by a muffled moan, Sol pulled Ky’s hips flush to his own. Ky broke from the kiss with a shudder, letting his forehead fall to Sol’s shoulder. His hands slid down to Sol’s forearms, fingers pressing down when Sol traced his earlobe with his tongue.
“Sol.”
Sol’s brain short-circuited.
A strangled moan escaped Ky’s throat when Sol shoved him away. He brushed his hair back and straightened. “Sol, what—?” he breathed.
There it was again, something else he couldn’t categorize easily
Type… type A. No, type B. No. Definitely not type C. Type B. No it was type A. Wait—
“What on earth are you going on about?”
That was type B.
“Sol!”
Veering on type C.
Sol snapped back to reality at the stinging pain of Ky’s hands slapping onto his cheeks.
“Stop saying that, for heaven’s sake,” Ky said.
Sol frowned. “You heard all of that?”
“Yes.” Ky rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t pushed back far enough it seems.”
“Don’t get mouthy with me.”
“As if you don’t enjoy it.”
Sol raised an eyebrow in response. Ky reddened and pulled his hands away. Missing the contact, Sol grabbed one of his hands and placed it back on his cheek. Ky’s eyes widened before his expression schooled into that of relief.
“You continue to find ways to baffle me, Sol. Though I suppose that is what I find endearing about you,” Ky said.
“Your mistake.”
“Yes, well, it’s my mistake to make.”
“What about Dizzy?”
“She’s known… for quite a while.” Ky sighed. “The patience she has afforded me, I’m afraid I’d be unable to repay her even in a lifetime.”
“And the kid?”
“Is this something we can discuss with Sin? Or do you intend to push me away again?”
Sol snorted and drew Ky in. “Nah, I’m done doing that,” he said.
Later, after talking out what direction their relationship was heading towards, which admittedly dragged on much longer than necessary due to Sol following every compulsion he had to kiss Ky, Sol walked through the halls of the castle and chanced upon overhearing Sin and Ramlethal’s conversation.
Feeling pleased with himself for finally addressing the situation between Ky and himself, Sol decided the next best thing to do was to kick in the door and interrupt the kids’ heart-to-heart.