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Yami had honestly forgotten Gifso's fishy nuisance tokens. Specifically, that he’d egged Gifso on and given him ideas for new ones to sic on Finral. What with everything that happened after- Vetto, Yami realizing he'd fallen in love with Finral, Kiten, finding out that Asta's arms were cursed, several of the Bulls running off to bug the fucking Witch Queen to cure him- Yami felt that was excusable. But Finral, Yami had learned over the last several years, was a patient asshole when he wanted to be.
Yami was dripping wet, spattered with mud, and annoyed when he stomped back to base.
He found Finral lounging in the common room, flipping through a pamphlet. There was a moment of deja vu, the memory of that first morning in Raque. But this time Finral was fully dressed, and the pamphlet was stamped with the administrative seal of the Wizard King. Yami's gaze snagged on a heading declaring 'New Spatial Magic Protocols.' Cob's signature was inked in bouncy loops at the bottom of the text. Guess they finally finished the security overhaul they were talking about after the attack on the capital. Yami'd probably have to read it himself later.
But it wasn't urgent, so Yami felt no compunctions about interrupting Finral.
“Oi, Finral, you dumped me in the lake, not next to it. You wanna die?”
Finral looked up. The attempt at an apologetic expression was undermined by his cheerful voice as he replied, “Sorry! I guess it’s been a while since I portalled there.”
Some of Yami's annoyance transmuted into vindication. If that was the way Finral wanted to play it, Yami'd take the easy points. He kept his expression irritated as he snapped, “The fuck kind of excuse is that? Your markers don't move.”
Yami realized he'd made a tactical error when Finral grinned. He sat up, one index finger raised like a teacher sharing a supposedly-fascinating bit of their lecture. “Actually they're in constant motion due to automatic repositioning relative to-”
Yami cut him off before his head started to spin. “Do I look drunk enough to try to understand that?” Bad enough that Yami could rattle off Newt Issacton's laws of spatial magic. He didn't need the headache of actually trying to understand them.
Trying for innocent again, Finral offered, “Maybe the lake rose past my marker?”
Yami crossed his arms, flatly incredulous this time. “It's winter. You set that marker in summer, what kind of lake is higher in winter?”
“Guess it's a mystery!” Finral chirped. In a pretense of placation, he asked, “How were the fish? Nothing big enough to be a nuisance, right?” He couldn’t quite suppress a hint of smugness.
Which was when Yami clocked on. Payback, huh?
Amusement threaded through the remaining annoyance. Despite the cold water clinging to his clothes, warmth spread through his chest. After all the crap they’d been through in the last several weeks, Finral going back to his usual shit was a welcome sign of normalcy. It felt like coming home. Not that he was going to say anything half that sappy.
Nowadays the swell of affection came with new impulses. The desire to lean down and kiss the hint of slyness in the curve of Finral's lips. Find out if the taste of faux innocence and mischief was sweet or salty.
With effort, Yami put the temptations to the side. Being in love with Finral was a lot easier on his concentration if he saved those thoughts for later. Besides, there were more important things to focus on.
“Nah. The fish are smart enough to book it when a predator shows up,” Yami replied, starting to smirk. He took a couple steps forward, looming over the couch. Finral’s eyes widened. Yami could almost see the wheels turning as Finral realized that revenge was coming sooner rather than later.
With a grin more shark-like than any of the lake fish (or even Gifso’s game tokens) had managed, Yami leaned down and put a hand on Finral’s shoulder. “Out of practice, huh? I can fix that for you.”
Finral twitched, hands going up in a placating gesture. “Ehehe... Yami, there’s no reason to go to the trouble…” The pamphlet slid to the side, completely forgotten.
“No trouble. I’m gonna enjoy this,” Yami told him.
Finral gulped. “That's what I'm afraid of...” he mumbled.
There were advantages to being captain when it came to this game, and Yami wasn’t enough of a saint to pass them up. Besides, it’d been too long since he’d given Finral a decent workout. Hell if he was going to let their enemies have all the fun. Especially after dealing with fast bastards like Licht and Vetto.
But instead of giving up in resignation when he realized Yami wasn't budging, Finral suddenly gave a sheepish laugh. Yami looked at him questioningly.
Finral smiled up at him, rueful but warm. “I can't have it both ways, right? If I want to make the Bulls a better squad, I should keep improving too. Even if your methods are sadistic.”
Even after their last conversation on the roof, that was a surprise. Yami'd been more focused on the positive development of Finral finally getting the start of a better self image than on what concrete changes that might spark. If Finral actually started to put his back into training...
A different kind of heat tugged low in Yami's gut. Yami abruptly let go of Finral's shoulder. “Be at the third training ground in twenty minutes.” He straightened and strolled toward the stairs. Behind him, Yami heard Finral scramble upright. He didn't look back, but he could picture Finral gaping at him.
“Wait, you're not just dragging me straight out there?”
Yami started up the stairs. “Nah. Gonna take a bath.” Alone.
“Before training?” Finral sounded even more bewildered.
Yami didn't blame him; it was pretty out of character. Luckily there was an excuse ready at hand. “Like I'm going to work up a sweat when I already smell like fish. Be there on time or I'll kill you.”
“...sure, Yami.” Finral was clearly still baffled, but Yami wasn't going to elaborate. Last thing a subordinate needed to hear from their captain was, 'I'm gonna jerk off thinking about you beforehand so I don't pop a boner when I'm trying to focus on training you.' Even if it was true.
Especially if it was true.