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Niko felt warm and faintly heavy as he woke. The strange feeling - comfort, contentment - was enough to snap him fully awake in a heartbeat, nerves singing, but the moment he opened his eyes. . .
The clean lines of wooden rafters it had been too dim to truly see the night before formed a layered pattern overhead, and Niko let out a slow breath, relaxing. Yoshi’s home.
The heavy feeling of contentment curled around him once more, though it wasn’t enough to pull him back into sleep. Only laziness, he thought wryly, and yawned.
‟Not my room,” Niko remembered, sleep-fogged, as he closed his eyes; teasing offered in a rich voice, a fine, sharp mouth tilting into a smirk, ‟but you are welcome to it.”
Niko turned from his side onto his back again, smiling faintly and wondering, as he had last night. . .
To this one . . . or yours?
He stretched a little, folding his arms beneath his head. He thought it was still early, but it was difficult to tell; the house was almost unaccountably comfortable, but it was still unfamiliar and the sun’s light shone only through layers of paper doors. He thought. Regardless, it wasn’t as though he had any reason to be hurrying out of bed this morning; he could indulge in a little laziness if he chose.
Tilting his head, he glanced at the set of painted paper doors Yoshi had slipped through the night before. In the quiet, he could all but hear the spill of the waterfall depicted there.
It was quiet. Either Yoshi was still asleep, or he had risen earlier and passed by without waking Niko, for he had slept sound.
Normally he would have said that was impossible - he was not a heavy sleeper, certainly not when it came to other people moving around him - but he did trust Yoshi, deeper than he would, once - and long - have thought possible for him to trust another person. And Yoshi was impossibly cat-footed, he thought wryly, remembering sharing space with him in rather more tense times, however briefly; when they had been newly finding their way around one another, halfway around the world.
Niko stretched again, then slid out of the pallet - the futon, thick and cosy - and rose with a shiver; the floor was chill beneath his bare feet, and he’d forgotten how much of one the air carried in this house while he had been wrapped up in even thicker layers to sleep. He shook it off, tugging the heavy kimono he still wore closer, and looked at the painted doors once more.
This room or Yoshi’s own. Perhaps he should go and see if he was welcome to either, he thought, a grin tugging at his lips. Thoughts he had refused to entertain even as he came, seeking, following an impossible call halfway around the world, had drifted and, finally, settled lightly in his mind as he lay in the comfortable bed, the comfortable house.
As soft and easy as the falling snow that had graced their . . . reunion.
Reunions; not something he’d had many of in his life. Niko tilted his head and padded to the painted doors.
His steps were quiet, but definitely noticeable. The slide of the doors would probably be more so, at that, if he opened them - but Niko also didn’t exactly want to surprise Yoshi - not that much.
He had no doubt Yoshi had a similar reaction and wariness to his own - likely not entirely put aside even in his own home, though there. . . Niko could be a little less sure.
It had been a very long time since he’d had anything like to what most seemed to call a home, to feel as one.
The doors slid open easily, and the room beyond was dimmer than the one he’d slept in, but not enough to make it difficult to find Yoshi tucked in his futon. He remained still as Niko stepped inside, hesitating a moment, then closing the doors behind himself.
It grew even dimmer, and Niko took a moment to adjust before-
‟Niko.” Yoshi murmured, deep voice throaty and a little rough. ‟Ohayou. Daijoubu?” The tone was a clear question, followed by a spill of syllables Niko couldn’t catch at all.
Niko opted his mouth, then closed it, frowning slightly. He had picked up . . . a few bits of Japanese as he travelled, but admittedly not much.
‟Uh.” he said while he tried to think, still feeling slow and lazy.
Yoshi laughed a little, and Niko heard fabric rustling a moment before he leaned up, pushing a loose lock of hair back and out of his face. The rest was pulled back, perhaps in the same ponytail Niko had always seen him wearing before.
‟Good morning.” Yoshi said instead, sitting up fully, shivering once and then stretching. ‟Are you all right? Need something?”
Niko hummed, nodding absently, then paused, shaking his head. That wasn’t it, after all. ‟Nah.” His lips twitched. ‟Morning.”
Yoshi cocked his head, watching Niko, eyes heavy-lidded. Niko hummed, turning over the newness of his realisation, the possibility that it was not a shared pull he felt.
That was easily discarded.
. . .ha, at that perhaps it’d been easier for Yoshi to settle with it, he thought wryly. Niko had never been drawn to anything but the purpose he’d dedicated his life to, he maybe hadn’t taken it gracefully. Or easily.
Yoshi had said nothing as Niko thought, watching patiently.
I’ve wandered all my life, and never felt a call to stay or even a call to anywhere, Niko thought. Only for revenge, and when I got it, even then I didn’t want to stay, even in the home I once knew.
‟You said last night I was welcome,” Niko said, moving closer, shivering at the chill beneath his bare feet; he’d maybe-joked about sharing if Niko insisted, as well, ‟how welcome?” he asked, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Yoshi was silent for a moment, then laughed. He stretched again, shifting beneath his heavy blankets. ‟As welcome as you might wish.” he said, holding Niko’s gaze. ‟Now and for as long as you wish.” He paused. ‟This is my home, where I have always been called to return.” He left anything further unsaid, but easily made space as Niko came further; moving to join him.
It was warmer, Niko noted absently, settling in at Yoshi’s side, stretching lazily. It felt new, but not fragile or uncertain.
Warmer in more ways than one, he thought comfortably, Yoshi’s shoulder just brushing his own, solid, sure. Like it was where he belonged, where they both belonged.
Comfortable enough that when Yoshi’s callused fingertips brushed along his jaw, his neck, Niko didn’t startle though he hadn’t been expecting the touch. He opened his eyes and found Yoshi leaning up, close. He raised his eyebrows and Yoshi grinned, and it was easy as breathing - as settling into place - to meet his kiss, warm and firm.