The sound of Griffith’s quill faintly scratching the parchment paper soothed Guts as he curiously skimmed through one of the heavy books he had picked from Griffith’s massive collection. This sure was a long letter he was writing. Guts glanced over to peer at Griffith’s face out of the corner of his eye. His pale porcelain skin was yellowed by the glowing light of the row of candles stacked next to his desk. His brow was slightly furrowed, clearly trying to concentrate but still he somehow looked calm and serene like he always did. This man was so intimidating yet why was he so drawn to him.
The pure white strands of hair dangling from the sides of his face swayed slightly as he turned his head to scan the book next to him, his quill still scratching away at the parchment. He really did look like some kind of heavenly cherub, all of his features perfect as if they were personally moulded by the hands of god. Guts wondered, like he often did, what he deserved to be with this man. Afterall he himself was nothing special. All he did was swing his sword, the one thing he was good at. Griffith was naturally gifted at so many things, so much better and more deserving than him to exist. Why would such a grand man even want to associate with someone like him, let alone let him into his study at this time of night. Come to think of it had he ever seen Griffith’s hair tied back like this? Maybe he did but he had just forgotten. It really suited him. Normally his neck was covered by his long wavy mane but now you could see how slender it was.
Griffith’s brow furrowed further, his finger dragged along one particular line on the page of the book before swiftly switching back to his parchment, finger still lingering on the text. Gentle. The way his hand effortlessly rested on the paper. It looked so perfect. Ethereal. Guts was in a trance; he had never had the time nor the opportunity to actually look at Griffith and for this long without being interrupted.
“Guts?” Griffith’s voice rang in Guts ears. He snapped out of it and his eyes met Griffith’s. He was staring right at him.
“Huh?” he muttered. Griffith’s eyes softened as he smiled.
“Feeling a little tired are we my friend?”
Guts bashfully cleared his throat and shifted his eyes away. “Yeah I guess.”
“I won’t be much longer. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He turned back to his parchment and reached for the quill waiting for him sitting in the ink pot.
“No, it’s fine. No need to apologise, I’m sure it’s important.” Guts tried to keep his voice steady while still feeling flustered.
Damn it, I can’t believe he saw me gawking at him. Stupid Guts quit acting like that.
“Well, yes I suppose.” Griffith chuckled lightly and sighed. “Despite its importance I wish it wasn’t so challenging to write.” He delicately dipped the tip of the quill into the pot then brought it to the paper once again. The scratching resumed met with the light crackling of the candles. It was quiet once again. This time Guts glued his face to the bookcase in front of him instead of Griffith. Almost as if he were punishing himself for getting caught. He bit his lip slightly; his arms were folded tight against his muscular broad chest. Don’t look at him. Regardless of what his head was telling him Guts took a chance and quickly shifted his eyes to Griffith for a second then back to the bookshelf. Griffith looked more serene this time, still in concentration but a slight smirk was painted on his lips.
“There’s no need to be nervous around me Guts.” His voice echoed throughout the room. He had a serious yet reassuring tone.
Guts scoffed before turning to Griffith again “What? Nervous? Ridiculous.” Griffith was more relaxed sitting in his chair this time. Arm over the back of the chair with his hand supporting his head which was cocked to the side. His eyes were soft again. They bore into Guts soul.
“As defensive as ever.” He smugly remarked. “Your body is practically screaming out in desperation.” That last sentence made Guts feel a bit strange, it didn’t sound right. Was he trying to make him uncomfortable? The glint in his eyes were enough to suggest that was the case. “Well maybe you should be focusing on that letter” Guts smugly retorted back.
“How can I when your shaking in the corner like a scared little lamb.” His smirk grew.
“What?” A scared lamb? Guts unfolded his arms. I’m not scared.
“I can tell Guts.” He paused. “You’re not good at hiding your emotions. You only think you are.”
Guts was a bit in shock. Why is he all of a sudden talking like that? Was it really that obvious? No, he’s just messing with me. “Where did this come from?” Guts shot up his eyebrow, smiling to mask his irritated state.
“I don’t know, you tell me you’re the one who’s nervous around your own leader and comrade.” Griffith casually shrugged before shooting Guts another smug look, turning to his writing desk once again. This made Guts scowl, he clenched his angular jaw and narrowed his eyes.
“I am not nervous.” He said through gritted teeth. His heart started beating a little faster. Clearly fed up he faced the bookcase of punishment and shame.
“Lies.” He pompously stated with pride.
“Ugh Griffith please.” Guts folded his arms again instinctively.
Without hesitation Griffith impishly countered “Oh my, have I angered the savage brute?” He giggled at Guts’s building anger. Guts threw him a scowl that would make any regular man quiver. However, Griffith was no regular man. This was only feeding Griffith.
“Griffith just don’t.” he sounded a bit pained. He felt a little humiliated, he already felt a little insecure in Griffith’s presence, even sitting next to him was nerve wracking. Then he noticed he was staring at him like a creep and now Griffith is just trying to make him feel small. Silly that he was even acting this affected by what he was doing, it was just regular banter. The comment about being nervous must have really struck a nerve within Guts. Why was he feeling this strongly about something like that? Pathetic.
“Does timid little Guts find feelings hard to deal with hmm?~” Rather abruptly Guts rose from his chair, towering over Griffith. “I can just leave if that’s what you want.” The smile from Griffith’s lips vanished in an instant. Had he really hurt him? He was just messing around. It was childish fun, nothing serious. “Guts? Come on I was-“ He cut him off before he could explain. Guts scowled and turned towards the door.
“No Guts!” Griffith jolted from his chair, arm outstretched, reaching out for him. He froze as Guts turned back to look at him. Both of the men froze in place. It was silent for a moment. Griffith looked up at Gut’s. His mouth was slightly agape. He was bent over slightly from evacuating his chair so quickly, Gut’s was already taller than him which didn’t help in making him look desperate and vulnerable.
He was a bit startled. Griffith begging him not to leave? He’s just a member of the Hawks, nothing more nothing less. Seeing such a composed man like Griffith acting like this was rare for Guts. Griffith straightened his posture, stood up and cleared his throat. “Guts I’m sorry.” His face softened but looked slightly pained. “I think I was just getting a little bored.” He faintly smiled.
“No it’s fine really.”
“No please, I clearly ruffled you feathers Guts”
“No you didn’t I- “
“Guts. Stop.” His eyes narrowed pinning on Guts. “Why do you even want me here?” Guts blurted out. He still looked hurt. “Out of anyone why do you want to spend time with me, there’s far more important and interesting people you actually want to keep you company. Why me? I’m no one.”
“Guts.” He sounded less stern this time, he wasn’t scolding Guts, but he seemed slightly irritated yet comforting. “Well?!” Guts snapped. He was clearly done with this conversation. Suddenly Griffith reached out both of his hands towards either side of Guts’s face. It startled him a bit. What was he doing? Yet Guts didn’t move away. Griffith’s narrow eyes once again bore into Guts, he looked determined as he gently held Guts’s face in his slender pale hands, making sure they were both at the same eye level, so Guts was directly looking at him and only him. This gesture was the most unfamiliar and unusual Guts had experienced from anyone, especially from Griffith. He could feel his face tinge with embarrassment.
“Because your mine Guts.” He cooed with possessive pride, his face returning to a serene expression. Guts’s eyes widened. That was the first thing he said to him after Griffith won the duel. Griffith tenderly ran his hands along Guts’s jaw, aiming to comfort him.
“You were nervous, weren’t you?” His voice was so soft.
“Shh.” Griffith lightly brought his finger against Guts’s rough lips. He smiled as he looked upon Guts. He looked cute like this. “Relax.” he insisted softly. Guts’s heart was beating even faster than before. Griffith was right there, right there, mere inches from his face. He could see every strand of his white eyelashes, the rippling patterns in his sea blue iris, his berry stained lips, the glint in his eyes. Maybe it was the heat of the candles scattered around Griffith’s desk or the fact that the man he admired to much had just reminded him that he belonged to him like some little pet, but Guts was starting to perspire slightly. It was most likely the latter. Too much was going on in his head to even try to relax.
“Oh my, Guts your shaking.” Griffith drifted one of his hands away from Guts now flushed face to attend to his quivering hand. He held it with such grace. Guts’s veiny tanned rough hand contrasted with Griffith’s pale slender feminine fingers. He stroked Guts’s skin with his thumb trying to comfort him, almost petting him like a small scared animal.
“You realise when I told you to relax that was an order Guts.” Griffith smirked once again. Looking up at him to see his reaction. Guts was speechless. What the hell was going on. Was he teasing him again? Seeing Griffith below him tenderly caressing his hand was something else. It put him into a trance again. He tried to speak but couldn’t move his mouth to even form the words. Griffith was just soaking in it. He loved seeing Guts like this. He fully owned him, and he could do anything he wanted with him. That power was intoxicating.
Griffith brought his face to Guts’s shaking hand, rubbing his cheek against it.
“Think about it Guts, you would die for me, wouldn’t you?”
He said such a morbid thing, but he sounded so full of love. Guts sharply inhaled.
“God forbid it of course. But you would, wouldn’t you? A man that would end his own life to save his leader, nervousness has no room for that courage.” He pressed his face further against Guts’s clammy hand.
“Griff-“ Guts’s voice cracked as if he were a awkward teenage boy once again. Before he could even finish Griffith brought his hand to his lips, closed his eyes and cut him off with a gentle kiss on top of his hand. Guts grunted and swallowed hard. The kiss lingered. His lips felt so soft just as Guts had expected. Heavenly. He didn’t want it to end. Griffith eventually brought his lips away from his hand.
“That’s the loyalty I cherish.” He uttered, whispering slightly. He slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Guts again. As expected, his cheeks were bright red.
“You look so cute Guts.” Griffith blurted out. He himself was in a bit of a haze. Maybe he got too carried away. Maybe he didn’t. He lightly coughed trying to break the tension. “Ha, well maybe I should get back to that letter hmm? ~” Griffith giggled, letting go of Guts and returning back to his writing desk.
He turned to Guts. “Leaving? Or perhaps will you stay a bit longer?” The answer was obvious, but he just wanted to test Guts. “I-I can stay.” Guts stammered, still a bit shocked from what had just occurred. Griffith looked as if he hadn’t just kissed his hand and called his cute.
Griffith smiled softly like he always did.
“Good boy, Guts.”