Dusk - Nakamaru/Kame

[defeminized]

Title: Dusk
Wordcount: 3682
Pairing: Nakamaru/Kame
Rating: PG-13, aka no porn
Warnings: Sap. Sorta established relationship. Fluff.
Notes: This ended my 3-month long NaKame drought! I wrote this during one of the most miserable times in almost a year, so pardon the strangely dark undertone in this. Thanks to pinkeuphoria1 for the help, <33 you infinitely.

Summary: A love deeper than the deepest ocean is nothing but a myth waiting to be busted.


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Kame wants the type of love that’s all-encompassing, larger than life, bigger than the biggest love story ever told and deeper than the deepest ocean —or at least that’s how Nakamaru imagines it to be.

He doesn’t know what he can offer. He doesn’t think he can ever be the all-encompassing someone, he’s not larger than life, their love story is nothing out of ordinary and a love deeper than the deepest ocean is nothing but a myth waiting to be busted.

“A myth, really?” Kame says, laughing childishly while throwing himself backwards.

“Be careful,” Nakamaru warns. The chair is made of plastic and if Kame’s not careful, he will literally be rolling on the floor.

“Your cynicism is quite endearing,” Kame says, wiping away his tears of laughter.

“Do you really believe in true love?” Nakamaru asks, shifting closer to Kame.

Kame pulls Nakamaru towards him and looks straight into his eyes. Something inside Nakamaru is reacting and it’s making him feel funny.

“Maybe?”







Kame’s not Ranmaru; but if Kame were Ranmaru, he would have acted the same way.

“You would have done everything for anyone or anything you loved,” he says to Kame, who’s lying, half asleep, on his lap. “Am I right?”

“Is that a request?” Kame purrs sleepily, “and not a very subtle one at that?”

Nakamaru smiles and brushes his fingers through Kame’s hair. “Nothing like that.”

“Remember to wake me up—“

“—in an hour, yes,” he finishes Kame’s sentence.

“Keep talking, Yucchi,” Kame murmurs sleepily, “your rambling voice is better than any lullaby.”

“You’re crazy,” Nakamaru says absent-mindedly, with a little smile curved on his lips. He sweeps Kame’s bangs and massages his cheeks lightly, soothing him to sleep.

Kame’s asleep a few minutes later; Nakamaru knows it because the creases on his forehead relax and the grip on Nakamaru’s finger loosens. Nakamaru watches Kame sleep, curling up in a childlike position and wishes that the hour would never be up.







Kame pulls Nakamaru towards him and envelops him in a protective embrace from his back.

“Are you tired, old man?” Kame teases with an audible smirk. His chin is perched on Nakamaru’s shoulder and his cheek playfully nuzzling against Nakamaru’s.

“A little—not there!” Nakamaru answers with a little yelp as Kame tickles his rib. He squirms, but only makes Kame tighten his embrace.

“Not tired anymore, I guess,” Kame concludes, grazing Nakamaru’s earlobe with his nose.

Nakamaru slumps a little. “Still tired.”

“Really?”

“I should sleep.”

Kame drags Nakamaru by his belt and by the time Nakamaru realises what’s going on, he’s lying on his back on the sofa, Kame on top of him.

“I’ll sleep with you,” Kame says. He bends to kiss Nakamaru, hard, slipping his arms around his neck and one hand caressing his thigh.

“I’m tired,” Nakamaru whines as they kiss. Kame’s signs are as clear as day, and Nakamaru doesn’t feel like complying. At least not today.

They part long enough to breathe and Kame kisses him again, this time very lightly. So light, it’s as though Kame has just glided into his dream and is only barely touching him.

“I know,” he says. “I actually meant the real ‘sleep’. What were you thinking?”

Nakamaru lets out a sigh of mock frustration. “I’ll never know it with you.”

“Maybe you can get some sleep now and we’ll talk about that later.”







Sometimes Kame’s cute. He tells people lame jokes (Taguchi’s the only one who gets him, almost all the time, while the others, co-workers and strangers alike, usually stare at each other wondering what they should do in response), he bounces around posing like a hyperactive kid, he pranks people unsuccessfully and he giggles when he fails.

Sometimes Kame’s reliable. He analyses the situation at hand and gives them his best evaluation and presents his most thoughtful conclusions. He’s the one people call when they are faced with dire situations and when they are in need of someone with calibre to carry a show.

Sometimes Kame’s unbearable. He tells people exactly where they have gone wrong to have caused the crisis that they are facing, he shows his impatience, and he persists with his “kissy face” game even when nobody finds it funny anymore.

Nakamaru loves him and he tells him all the time. Everytime they kiss, everytime they hold hands, everytime Kame drops his head on his shoulder, everytime he tucks Kame’s hair behind his ear as he sleeps on his lap, everytime he has Kame wrapped in his arms.

He doesn’t need Kame to tell him things, or to tell him that he loves him back too. He’s a simple man who’s in love, and simply a man in love.

The sound of Kame cooing at his touch is more than enough for him.







Nakamaru likes it when Kame details his plans for the near future, no matter how impossible they sound.

“—was just thinking the other day, maybe we can have a trip to the moon someday,” Kame says as they sit drinking next to each other on the rooftop of his apartment building, staring aimlessly at the sky.

“There’s nothing there though, are you sure you want to make it your destination?” Nakamaru asks, opening another can of Hoegarden.

“I just wanna go there,” Kame says, holding his can of beer up high, face flushing with intoxication. From the corner of Nakamaru’s eye, Kame looks as though he’s toasting the sky. “In fact, I wanna go everywhere! The moon’s just one of them.”

“Maybe you should try going to all the places on Earth that you have yet to go,” Nakamaru says as they clash their cans.

“I’m not going to Los Angeles,” Kame pouts. “Anywhere but there.”

At that, Nakamaru laughs heartily. “You’re still not over it.”

“Not as long as he lives,” Kame says, laughing along.

Then Kame stops in his laughter abruptly and stares blankly at Nakamaru.

“What?”

“Maybe we should move there,” he suggests.

“Where is this ‘there’?”

“Los Angeles.”

Nakamaru gives a dramatic and exaggerated gasp. “Are you crazy?”

Kame leans against Nakamaru’s chest, prompting Nakamaru to place his hand on Kame’s hipbone.

“We can buy a house there, huge enough for a baseball team, with a pool next to a barbeque area, with a garden where I can practise baseball in—“

Nakamaru listens to him and visualises everything Kame’s telling him. He rambles on like he’s threading on a dream in another universe, setting his imagination free.

“—and we’ll sit by the poolside, waiting for the sun to set, while you play the banjo—“

“Banjo?” Nakamaru is suddenly darted away from his train of thought.

Kame’s grinning. “Was testing if you’re actually listening to me.”

“I am listening,” Nakamaru says defensively. “I’m always listening.”

“I know,” Kame says, rocking their intertwined palms in front of his chest.

“You like testing me,” Nakamaru concludes.

“It’s why I love you.”







They had their first kiss on the beach, on that day when Kame was feeling particularly distressed and Nakamaru offered to borrow his friend’s bike to take them both to the beach. It was such a sudden plan, uncharacteristic of Nakamaru even, that even a very distressed Kame took notice of the peculiarity of the nature of the suggestion.

“It’s not like you,” he said.

“You don’t know a lot about me, do you?” Nakamaru sneered mockingly, and Kame laughed.

“Alright,” Kame said as he fixed the helmet on his head. “Surprise me.”

Kame spent the entire evening on the beach looking for surfboards for rent and when he finally got one (it was peak season and it was more than an hour before he could find any), he surfed until the sun was about to set while Nakamaru sat on a rock, keeping two watchful eyes on Kame.

When Kame stumbled into the water and didn’t get back up after two minutes, he jumped down and ran into the sea, calling Kame’s name and trying not to think about what could have happened to Kame.

Kame jumped out from the under the surface of the water with a grin across his face just when Nakamaru was wading furiously some twenty meters away from the shore.

Nakamaru pulled him into a tight hug immediately. For a few minutes, it was the closest he had come to losing someone close to him. He was so terrified that the fact that he was supposed to be mad at Kame for playing a prank on him got washed away by the fierce waves.

“Thank goodness,” Nakamaru said, tears falling down involuntarily.

“I didn’t realise—“

“Don’t do that again,” Nakamaru insisted. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Kame patted his back apologetically. “I’m sorry, Yucchi, I didn’t know.”

They kissed against the backdrop of a setting sun. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to Nakamaru.







“Do you like me fully-buttoned,” Kame asks, “or half-buttoned?”

“I like you with buttons,” Nakamaru answers, not really paying attention to him. He’s checking for updates for Metal Gear Solid and reading forum comments about the new game development.

Kame’s dressing up in front of the mirror in Nakamaru’s room and apparently trying to revamp his closet. He doesn’t know how they have gone from checking Nakamaru’s clothes for fashion relevance to dressing Kame in Nakamaru’s clothes.

“How many buttons did you take off when you wore this?” Kame asks again, fiddling with the sleeves of this turquoise-coloured shirt that he has taken a liking to.

“None of them,” Nakamaru says and in no time, his vision is obscured by something warm.

“Yucchi,” Kame’s voice is low and breathy.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m wearing your clothes,” he coos, “don’t you want to take them off me?”

“Maybe you should keep wearing them,” Nakamaru suggests, strangely not very annoyed that Kame has just disrupted his nerdy moment.

“So you’re not taking them off me?” Kame asks again, slightly whinier and Nakamaru can hear tinge of dissatisfaction in his voice.

“Take your hand off my eyes,” Nakamaru demands.

The pair of hands covering his eyes seems to be obeying, and when he can see again, Kame’s eyes are right in front of his and he realises that they are kissing. Kame’s tugging at his shirt and he lowers them both to his bed so that Nakamaru’s on top of him.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he whispers. “You know, you’re really sexy when you’re bossy.”

“Is that why you’re wearing my clothes now?”

“Yes,” Kame says, pulling Nakamaru down for another kiss, “and no.”

Nakamaru sneaks a hand underneath Kame’s (his) shirt and tickles his tummy, then unbuttons him from the button nearest to his navel, inducing a burst of giggle from Kame.

“I like it when you do that,” he says.

Nakamaru likes it when Kame’s being unpredictable, he thinks as he plants lights kisses on his exposed tummy, slowly moving upwards as he unbuttons him more. He also really likes it when Kame moans in pleasure when Nakamaru pays heed to his nonsensical requests, he thinks as he feels Kame’s fingers tangling in his hair. Most of all, he likes it when Kame’s listing everything he likes about Nakamaru, and deny as much as he can, Nakamaru actually finds it a big turn-on.

It’s as though Kame knows exactly which button to push when it comes to him, Nakamaru thinks when Kame groans as he unzips his (Nakamaru’s) jeans.







They never went on dates, never sent each other flowers, never confessed to each other, and never asked if they can call each other “boyfriend”.

They just happened, like it was an aftermath of an earth-shattering earthquake and before they got to decide what to do next, they were already an item.

Nakamaru sometimes wonders who is the more obviously taken, him or Kame. Kame has the air of a perpetually depraved beast, what with initiating kisses and touching people anywhere touchable. Nakamaru, however—

Acting like he’s taken gives Kame plenty of reasons to tease, because Kame’s a masochist like that. The more unattainable something is, the happier he is to be chasing after it. Acting like he isn’t taken gives Kame even more reasons to tease, because Kame’s a sadist like that. The more reactive his target is, the happier he is to be teasing it.

—he doesn’t know how he should act.

“Just act normal,” Kame mumbles, ready to drift into sleep next to him.

Nakamaru wants to ask “what is normal to you?” but Kame’s already snoring lightly and Nakamaru holds him to sleep.







According to Kame, Youkai Ningen Bem’s a fairy tale. A romantic fairy tale.

“It’s a family drama,” Nakamaru corrects him. He’s scurrying around for the latest social news on his iPad as a preparation for a Shuuichi recording the next day. Kame rolls on the bed, grinning like a Cheshire cat after his successful pitching practise session (someone famous Nakamaru couldn’t remember had apparently complimented his pitching style). Nakamaru is starting to think that Kame’s saying blasphemous things on purpose so that he can hear Nakamaru correcting him, with the severity increasing along with his elevated mood. He makes a mental note to look it up on the internet later; he’s pretty sure there’s a name for such a kink.

“Yeah, but it’s a family drama with a beautiful relationship between two men,” Kame says, poking Nakamaru’s thigh. “Don’t you envy Bem and Natsume?”

“Natsume’s married,” Nakamaru states.

“So was Oda Nobunaga,” Kame insists.

Nakamaru sighs. There’s no way he can win against Kame once he has decided not to lose. He turns off his iPad and lies beside Kame to face him.

“You like the ones that are already taken, don’t you?”

Kame caresses his cheek.

“Evidently not.”







Nakamaru doesn’t spend a lot of time in Kame’s apartment, but when he does, it’s always to only stay for dinner because Nakamaru needs to sleep early and do his daily planning for the next day before he sleeps. Kame’s apartment is pretty well-kept for most of the time, because Kame hardly allows his apartment to gather dirt and his mother sometimes comes to check on his dogs and cleans up whatever doesn’t get cleaned. Nakamaru doesn’t leave anything behind when he comes to stay over even though he knows that Kame wouldn’t mind it.

Kame doesn’t spend a lot of time in Nakamaru’s apartment either. But when he does (usually when he gets an extra day off), it’s always so that he can cook for him and spend the rest of the night teasing him. Nakamaru’s apartment is always really well-kept too, probably even better-kept than Kame’s (Kame sometimes asks him if Koki’s challenging him to make his apartment cleaner than Junno’s). Kame leaves little things behind; sometimes a few coins, sometimes a spare baseball, sometimes an extra shirt. He usually asks Nakamaru to keep them, and Nakamaru puts them aside in a corner of his closet, waiting for Kame to collect them.

Kame never does, only adding more to the pile the more he stays over.







People who work with Kame know him as an undefeatable professional. He takes every challenge and turns it into an opportunity with his Midas-like touch. Testing himself is a process, defeating his own personal record is an achievement and impressing people is a bonus. Nakamaru believes that there was once a time when Kame made “impressing people” his definition of “achievement”, but Kame has put those days so far behind him that Nakamaru can hardly remember the days when Kame would do anything to obtain approvals of any kind.

Kame flips his hair and smiles like the superstar that he is. He wields the baseball bat and concentrates like the player he wants to be. He reads the script and transforms into another person from another world. He was good at things he did because he had to be, but he is good at things he does because he can be.

Kame’s sort of a chameleon, Nakamaru discovers.

He sees the way Kame looks at him with a certain flutter of uncertainty when they are alone at night, the way Kame sometimes whispers with a stammering doubt, and the way he touches with a trembling hesitation. He always has many things to say to Kame. A million ways he wants to tell him how he makes his heart race and a million questions he wants to ask him.

He always ends up realising that the only thing he wants to do is to kiss Kame’s misgivings away.







They go back to the beach where they had their first kiss and Kame makes Nakamaru stay with him in the water.

“Why?”

Kame’s smile is beautiful, drawing in the brightness of the sun. “I wanna relive the magic.”

The colours around Nakamaru are turning scarlet. Dusk is near. Kame pulls him closer for a soft, tender kiss.

“Have I told you that how magical it was when you first kissed me here?”

Nakamaru thinks of their first kiss and everything that happened after that. He remembers how he ran after Kame into the sea, thinking that he had drowned. He remembers how he had kissed Kame in relief. He remembers how their eyes always seemed to be able to catch each other, as though they were meant to have found each other sooner. He remembers how they eased into each other’s arms easily and he remembers the way Kame could always make him feel like his insides would explode.

He remembers how naturally they have fallen for each other.

“Yucchi,” Kame whispers.

The waves are crashing loudly, but Nakamaru’s deaf to everything else but Kame’s voice.

“I love you.”

These words make Nakamaru weak in the knees, make the butterflies inside him soar, and make his chest hurt with the volcanic eruption of affection he has for the man in front of him.

He thinks of Kame and the way he belts out love songs to represent the people who had loved before his time. He thinks of Kame and the way he admires fictional characters who experience the sort of romance that he could only ache for. He thinks of Kame and the way he seems so far within his reach yet so close in his arms.

“I love you too,” he replies. But I’m probably not the love of your life, he hears a tiny murmur ringing at the back of his head.

Kame clings to him and Nakamaru can’t shed the feeling that Kame has heard the sentence that the little voice has just said.







“Look at the sky above you, Yucchi,” Kame says from the other side of the phone. “How’s the Beijing dusk sky?”

“It’s kinda red, just like the Tokyo dusk sky,” Nakamaru answers with a grin. “What about the dusk over there in Guam? Is it night time now?”

“It was beautiful, and the sun has yet to set completely,” Kame gushes. “I love it here, you should come with me someday.”

“That may only happen if Shuuichi decides to run a soccer section, decide to make me do it and make me train in Guam,” Nakamaru deadpans intentionally.

“All the more reason you should come here,” Kame says, “so that you can make a case for a new Shuuichi project.”

“I’m not as influential as you are,” Nakamaru answers, “you’re the baseball superstar after all.”

“Yeah, and if I don’t succeed in this new Homerun project, I’ll be a superstar for all the wrong reasons.”

They both laugh and talk about their day for a little longer until Nakamaru sees a star blinking as the sun sets.

“Hey Kame,” he asks, “I wonder if you’ll be able to see that star.”

“Of course I will,” Kame says, almost immediately. “We are under the same night sky, only at different times.”

Nakamaru flops on to the hotel bed and tells Kame that he needs to sleep soon. He doesn’t deal well with jetlag.

“The dusk here was really pretty, Yucchi,” Kame repeats. “I thought of you.”

Nakamaru gives a non-committal grunt as a response.

“Dusk always makes me think of you,” Kame’s voice drops to a trembling, hesitant whisper. “Yucchi, What makes you think of me?”

Nakamaru can almost see Kame in front of him, the slightly insecure Kame who loves to tease Nakamaru, who loves to push the limits of Nakamaru’s patience, who loves to show Nakamaru how much he loves him. Who loves to tickle him, loves to kiss him, and loves to whisper things into his ear at night. Only now he can’t kiss Kame back, can’t touch him, and can’t embrace him. There’s nothing much he can do when the only thing they are seeing together is the sky.

He says something that he has never told Kame.

“I can’t think of anything that doesn’t make me think of you.”







Nakamaru wants the type of love that’s normal, with just the right amount of passion, and with the right kind of balance —or at least that’s how Kame describes it.

Kame asks Nakamaru if he’s everything Nakamaru can ever ask for, the normal kind of romance he longs for. Kame asks Nakamaru if he has ever made Nakamaru feel like he’s compelled to spoil him —because Kame wants their story to be extraordinary and because they had started with Nakamaru being a hero.

“A hero? Are you sure?” Nakamaru asks, very taken aback by that description.

Kame pecks his cheeks playfully.

“Yes, you were,” he says, laying his head on Nakamaru’s chest. “You were always there for me, even when I didn’t need you.”

Nakamaru strokes Kame’s back.

“Really?”

“I always thought that you were waiting to be my hero.”

Nakamaru lowers his face and breathes in the sweet scent of Kame’s hair.

“Do you still believe in true love?”

Kame grips his hand.

“I believe in you, does that count?”

Nakamaru pulls Kame’s face to his for a kiss.

“Yes.”


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