Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fire crackled gently as Mukouda stirred the pot of sukiyaki, humming under his breath. The smell of soy sauce, beef, and mushrooms was making even him hungry and that was saying something, considering he’d been taste-testing the broth every five minutes.

Fel was unusually quiet. No impatient huffing. No complaints about portion size. Just a low grunt earlier before he wandered off into the woods, muttering something about “stretching his legs.”

Mukouda figured that meant hunting or napping or terrifying a family of squirrels. Fel did that sometimes. Honestly, who knew what went on in that oversized magic wolf brain?

He grabbed a handful of herbs and wandered toward the treeline. Maybe he could find some wild greens. Maybe even some—

He stopped.

And blinked.

And stared.

And forgot how to breathe.

Standing a few feet away from the clearing was a man. Not just any man. An absurdly tall, lean, gorgeously ethereal man. Long white hair drifted down his back like silk. His skin practically glowed in the moonlight, smooth and pale like marble. And those eyes— ice-blue and intense —looked like they could read souls.

He wasn’t wearing much. Just loose pants and what looked like a fur cloak half-draped over one shoulder, like some kind of ancient war god who moonlighted as a shampoo commercial.

And Mukouda—Mukouda was staring. Hard.

“...Whoa.”

The word just fell out of his mouth. His brain was still somewhere back by the sukiyaki pot.

The man turned slightly, his expression lazy, cool, and unmistakably familiar.

Wait… what?

“You’re staring,” the man said, voice smooth like low thunder—but there was a very Fel-like dryness to it, the kind that usually followed “you’re five minutes late with dinner.”

Mukouda blinked. Twice. His mouth moved but no sound came out, just a wheezy little breath like his brain had blue-screened.

“Wait. Wait—waitwaitwait. Hold on—”

He pointed again, shaking slightly like his finger couldn’t decide if it was accusing or just trying to stabilize him against reality.

“Are you….Fel?”

The man tilted his head. His white hair slid over one shoulder like a curtain of moonlight.

“Who else would I be?” he asked flatly.

Mukouda made a noise that wasn’t human. More like a squeaky kettle left too long on the stove.

“You— you’re a shapeshifter?! That’s not even— you didn’t tell me! ”

“You didn’t ask,” Fel said, tone far too casual for someone who had just shattered every law of common sense Mukouda thought still applied in this world.

“I didn’t ask because I didn’t know that was a thing I had to ask!! ‘Hey Fel, by the way, do you sometimes turn into an absurdly hot man under the full moon?’ — That’s not normal conversation! ”

Fel raised a brow. “Absurdly hot?”

Mukouda’s soul momentarily left his body.

“I—I didn’t mean—I mean yes but no—I mean objectively— look, shut up! ”

There was a long pause. A very awkward, extremely warm, painfully self-aware pause.

Then Fel smirked. Smirked. The same way he did when Mukouda burned something and tried to hide it under sauce.

“You said it out loud again.”

Mukouda looked like he was going to pass out. “I need to go lie down.”

“You’re already lying down.”

He looked down and realized—yes. He had somehow sunk to his knees in the grass. When did that happen? Why was the world so sparkly?

“I’m dreaming,” Mukouda muttered. “That’s it. I passed out by the sukiyaki pot and I’m dreaming. Or hallucinating. Too much mirin.”

Fel stepped forward, crouched down, and leaned just a little too close.

“Do your dreams usually talk back?”

Mukouda froze. His whole face was on fire. “Get out of my face, wolf man!”

“You said I was absurdly hot.”

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did.”

“I TAKE IT BACK.”

“You cannot. It was sincere.”

“SHUT UP AND EAT YOUR SUKIYAKI.”

Mukouda stormed back toward the campfire like a man whose dignity had just been steamrolled by an ice prince in a fur cloak.

Behind him, footsteps followed — slow, barefoot, unhurried. Fel, in human form, as if that was normal now. As if they weren’t just seconds away from Mukouda bursting into flames from sheer embarrassment.

Mukouda didn’t dare look at him. Not after what he’d said. Not after Fel quoted it back to him in his smug mental voice like he was filing compliments away for later.

He crouched by the pot and stirred furiously. “Sit down and eat already. Or shift back. This is weird.”

“Why? You clearly enjoy this form.”

“Shut up,” Mukouda muttered into the sukiyaki.

Fel, looking impossibly unbothered, settled cross-legged beside the fire, hair glowing faintly orange under the flames. He accepted the bowl Mukouda shoved at him with the kind of grace only possible from someone who’d probably once ruled over a mountain range.

“It smells good,” he said, and took a bite.

Mukouda stole a glance. And then immediately regretted it. The worst part wasn’t even how he looked.

It was how normal it was. Like he hadn’t just flipped his worldview upside down. Like Fel being a hot immortal elf-wolf-man was just a Wednesday thing.

Mukouda sipped his broth like it could drown the heat in his face. “Seriously, how long were you planning on hiding this?”

Fel didn’t even look up. “Until it became relevant.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Until you started looking at me like that.”

Mukouda choked so hard he nearly inhaled a mushroom.

“ I WAS NOT— ”

“You were.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You described me as ‘absurdly hot.’ Verbatim.”

Mukouda grabbed his bowl and threatened it with his spoon. “If I dump this on your smug magical face, will you stop talking?”

Fel gave him a satisfied little smirk and took another bite. “You wouldn’t waste good sukiyaki.”

“Damn it, you’re right,” Mukouda grumbled.

And then—

“Master~!”

A small, happy voice interrupted them.

Sui bounced into the campsite, jiggling with excitement. The slime looked between Mukouda and the very human Fel and let out a delighted sound.

“Ooooh! Uncle Fel looks like a person now! So sparkly! So shiny! Master, master, are you gonna marry him?”

“I—WHAT?!” 

 Mukouda practically jumped out of his skin.

“Ehhhh, are you angry, Master?” Sui asked, shrinking slightly. “Did Sui do something bad?”

The little slime wobbled in place, quivering like it was about to cry, and Mukouda’s heart squeezed in panic.

“Ah—no, no, Sui! I’m not angry with you!” he said quickly, crouching down. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. It’s just that…”

He trailed off, struggling to find the words. How exactly did you explain that your face was bright red because your thousand-year-old legendary beast partner turned into a gorgeous man and caught you ogling him like a romance novel heroine?

Sui tilted its round body, a soft gurgle bubbling out.

“But Master,” Sui said sweetly, “your whole face is red. Like when you burned the stew and tried to lie about it.”

Mukouda froze.

Fel, of course, didn’t miss a beat. Still lounging with far too much ease for someone dressed like a shirtless demigod, he slowly turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

Mukouda, horrified, could feel the amusement radiating off him like smug heatwaves.

“I wasn’t lying,” Mukouda muttered under his breath. “It was just slightly overcooked—”

“You said it was ‘caramelized,’” Fel reminded him blandly.

“ Shut up, Fel. ”

Sui perked up. “Are you blushing because Uncle Fel looks like a person now? Sui thinks Uncle Fel looks sparkly!”

Mukouda clapped both hands over his face.

“I need to go scream into a tree.”

“I’ll follow you,” Fel offered, far too casually.

“ Please don’t. ”

Sui wobbled over to Fel’s lap. “Can Sui sit on you like this, Uncle Fel? Your knees look soft.”

Fel nodded and held still while Sui plopped down like a jello hat. “I don’t mind.”

Mukouda stared at the two of them—his mythical beast companion in handsome man form and his beloved chaos-slime now seated comfortably on his thigh—and muttered:

“This is not my life. I just wanted to cook meat and not die.”

“And now,” Fel said, sipping soup, “you have both goals fulfilled. Plus a beautiful travel companion.”

“Stop saying things like that! I’m fragile!”

Fel gave him a very not innocent look. “Would you prefer I change back?”

“I—I mean, maybe! Yes! No! I don’t—what was the question again?!”

Fel leaned forward, voice low and velvety.

“Mukouda, you’re staring again.”

“STOP POINTING IT OUT!!”

Chapter Text

The new bathtub was a blessing from the gods. Well, technically from the gods of commerce, because it cost him a small fortune and three days of haggling. Still, worth every copper.

With Fel gone hunting, Mukouda had been looking forward to a quiet soak with Sui. Steam rose lazily from the surface, curling around the makeshift stone walls he’d erected for privacy. He sank into the water with a groan that was almost indecent, the heat unknotting muscles that had been protesting since morning.

“Master~ it’s warm!” Sui bobbed happily beside him, rippling the surface like a living bath bomb.

He smiled, eyes slipping shut. “Yeah, Sui. Perfect temperature. Just us, no interruptions—”

The sound of approaching footsteps made his eyes snap open.

It was large, heavy, and deliberate.

Mukouda didn’t even have to look up to know.

“I thought you were out hunting,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“I was,” came Fel’s deep, measured voice — but not the rumbling, bestial growl Mukouda was used to. This was his human voice, smooth and uncomfortably… pleasant. “I returned early. The prey was unworthy of the chase.”

Mukouda made the mistake of glancing up.

And there he was, white hair loose around broad shoulders, steam catching on the strands like they had some personal vendetta against his sanity. The sheer size of him was enough to make Mukouda instinctively want to scoot to the far edge of the tub, but the fact that Fel looked… like that was another problem entirely.

“Move over” 

He snapped back to reality. “You—! What—why are you—?!” Mukouda sputtered. “Baths are—personal space! Ever heard of it?!”

Fel’s mouth quirked in a way that might have been amusement. “We’ve traveled together for months. Surely you’re not so delicate.”

“I am delicate,” Mukouda hissed, ducking lower into the water as if it could shield him. “Extremely delicate. Handle with care.”

Fel ignored the protest entirely, stepping in with the kind of calm confidence that had Mukouda’s pulse skipping. The water rose in a small wave, sloshing against Mukouda’s chest.

He was very well aware about how dangerously close they were. His face felt like it had been dunked in boiling water rather than bathwater. Don’t look. Don’t look. For the love of all that is holy, do not—oh no, I looked. Nope, nope, abort mission, brain. That’s just Fel. My companion. My gluttonous, arrogant, terrifyingly strong, ridiculously good-looking… NOPE. Stop it. Eyes up. Ceiling’s nice. Ceiling’s safe. Oh wait—there’s no ceiling, it’s the sky. The sky’s too romantic. WHY IS THE SKY BETRAYING ME TOO?

Sui, completely oblivious, bobbed happily between them. “Master’s face is red again! Like when you first saw Uncle Fel in his human—”

“—Sui, please, not now,” Mukouda muttered, covering half his face with one wet hand.

The worst part wasn’t Fel’s lack of shame.

It wasn’t even the muscle definition that no magical beast should logically have in human form.

It was the way Fel settled across from him, closing his eyes in perfect, infuriating serenity—as if nothing about this situation was strange.

As if Mukouda wasn’t trying very hard not to imagine what else his absurd life was going to throw at him next.

“This is better than I expected,” Fel suddenly said, voice low and rumbling from relaxation. “The temperature is just right. You’ve done well.”

Mukouda sank lower until the water lapped at his chin. “Y-yeah… glad you approve.”

The minutes stretched on, broken only by the quiet sound of rippling water and Sui’s occasional cheerful splash. Every time Fel shifted, the water moved against Mukouda’s skin and his brain screamed at him to stop noticing things.

When Fel finally stood, water streamed down over lean muscle before his fur magic shimmered back into place. Mukouda’s brain short-circuited for a dangerous second— then he yanked his gaze away so hard his neck twinged. Nope. Absolutely not. That was way more exposure to Fel-in-human-form than any sane man needed in a single day.

By the time he stepped out of the tub himself, Mukouda was attacking his hair with a towel like it had personally offended him, trying to scrub the awkwardness out along with the water. Steam still clung to the air, making it impossible to pretend the bath hadn’t happened.

He’d just started to think he might survive the evening when heavy footsteps approached again. Fel emerged from behind the wall, back in his usual clothes—but with white hair still damp, loose, and absurdly perfect.

“What?” Mukouda muttered, already bracing for trouble.

“Dry my hair,” Fel said, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world.

Mukouda froze mid-rub. “...Excuse me?”

“My hair,” Fel said plainly, stepping closer as if that would make the request any less bizarre. “It’s troublesome when wet. You’re better at these human tasks.”

Mukouda stared at him like he’d just been told to polish the moon or maybe build a staircase to the sun. “You have magic, Fel. Can’t you just—”

“I could,” Fel cut in without missing a beat, “but you’re here.”

“That’s not—! Ugh, fine.” Mukouda muttered, grabbing another towel. “Just sit still.”

Fel lowered himself onto the stool in front of him, all too comfortable for someone making such a ridiculous request. Mukouda let out a slow breath, towel in hand, trying to remind himself that this was definitely not part of his job description.

Still… he reached out.

The moment his fingers sank into the white strands, his brain short-circuited.

Soft. Silky. Unreasonably smooth.

He quickly shook his head. No, no, he was not going to get sentimental about hair.

The towel moved over Fel’s head in brisk, efficient motions—at least, that’s what Mukouda told himself. Yet somehow, his fingers kept straying, combing through locks that slipped like liquid silver between them. Every pass was smoother than the last, the strands catching the lamplight like they’d been spun out of moonlight itself.

It was ridiculous. No hair had any right to feel this perfect.

Fel, of course, noticed none of his turmoil. “Hmm. This is pleasant. You should do it again next time.”

Mukouda nearly dropped the towel. “Next—?! No way!”

Fel cracked one eye open, his expression just shy of smug. “Why not? You’re clearly enjoying it.”

“I am not!” Mukouda spluttered, which only made his ears burn hotter. “I’m just making sure you don’t track water all over the place—”

“Ah. So you have to softly run your hands through my fur for efficiency.” Fel’s tone dripped with fake understanding.

“It’s hair, not fur—wait, that’s not the point!” Mukouda groaned. “I’m not your personal hairdresser.”

But Fel’s faint, satisfied smirk said he’d already won this argument.