Work Text:
Ten years ago. . .
Winding the bandages around his arms, Mori couldn’t help but stare at the thick muscles that ran just under the samurai’s skin. His thin fingers ran along Fukuzawa’s chest, copping a feel. The silver wolf gave him a look.
“Ah, I was seeing if it hurt anywhere else,” Mori lied. How could he say he just wanted to feel those soft muscles under his hands. He cleared his throat, feeling himself grow hotter with each thought that crossed his mind.
“It doesn’t,” Fukuzawa answered gruffly. Mori nodded, tucked his hair behind his ear, and finished cleaning up. Fukuzawa pulled his sleeves back up his shoulders, hiding away that body behind his loose clothing. Mori was aware of Fukuzawa’s eyes on him as he stood up and went to place his first aid supplies in the cabinet above his desk again.
“You have something to say?” Mori asked with a smile, his eyes sliding over to Fukuzawa.
“I was waiting to see if I could leave yet,” Fukuzawa answered bluntly.
“Well I’m not holding you here,” Mori answered with a frown, “Rude.”
Fukuzawa got up from his seat then, grabbed his sword, and replaced it onto his hip. He came over to stop in front of Mori. He was taller than the doctor and though he’d never admit it, Mori found it very attractive. Looking up into those blue eyes, a flurry of feelings flooded through the doctor.
“Thank you.” Fukuzawa said quietly, almost as if he didn’t really want to but felt obligated to. “For treating my wounds.” He was making Mori weak in the knees and their closeness in relation to where they stood… it was driving Mori mad. He had the urge to close the narrow gap between them, and in a way, he did.
Fukuzawa’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw as his eyes flicked down to the scalpel Mori held up to his neck so suddenly. The doctor had come so close to him that he could feel his breath hot on his face.
“The only wounds of yours I won’t treat are those I’ve caused myself,” Mori told him. Fukuzawa knitted his brow, a deep frown on his face as he grabbed Mori’s wrist and physically lowered it away from his neck.
“Great, so before you undo the work you just did, I’m going to leave,” Fukuzawa told him. He let go of his sword, seeming to decide he wouldn’t be needing it.
Mori was left standing there, watching him turn and leave. Fukuzawa’s touch still seemed to linger on Mori’s pale skin. He rubbed his wrist where Fukuzawa had grabbed him. So firm, yet gentle as to not actually hurt him. Such gentleness had no business in Mori’s life.
Once the door to his office had swung shut and Fukuzawa was gone, Mori turned and swiped a hand across his desk, sending its contents scattering all over the floor.
He should have stabbed him right then and there… One day, he would, he decided.