Obsession

by: darkestbeforedawn

summary: mugen has an obsession. -mugen x jin- -WAFF-

notes: good god. what the hell have i done! -cries-

xxx

1.

Mugen liked Jin's hands. Alot.

It wasn't that they were exceptionally beautiful, or long-limbed and pale, but he couldn't keep his eyes off them. Mugen also noticed that his eyes would wander over to the samurai's hands at random times, and that he had absolute no control of this.

Not that he was enjoying this, but he figured, since he had no control anyways, the least he could do was make sure Jin didn't notice.

But of course, he wasn't enjoying this.

It gradually became worse.

2.

There was something in the way Jin moved that Mugen found his eyes become attatched to, besides his hands. It was in the way he slightly nodded by tilting his head forward that made the Ryuukyu-born feel just a little uncomfortable.

Mugen just wished it was the bad kind of uncomfortable, and not the good.

3.

As he became more discrete in observing, the nape of Jin's neck became more appealing than he would like. Jin's neck, he noticed, wasn't like any man or woman's he had ever seen, and the way it curved from his nape to his shoulders was... tempting. Tempting what, Mugen wasn't sure of yet.

What he was sure of, was that he wasn't going to tempt fate with a question like that.

4.

Mugen wasn't sure why he had finally felt inclined to bathe with Jin. Given, they were both males and they have been travelling together for several months now, but he never had to share his cleaning ritual with anyone yet.

He sincerely wished it had stayed that way.

Jin relaxed in the comfort of hot water, his muscles tingling with delight at the sensation. He had wanted to stay in just a little longer, but he figured that there was a futon waiting for him in his room. He reluctantly stood up and wrapped a yukata around himself, turning back slightly to look at Mugen, whose eyes were concentrating on... his feet? Jin narrowed his eyes, and rose an eyebrow at the other man.

Jin didn't know what to make of the sudden attention, and he made a hasty retreat back into his room, ruffled.

He swore to himself that Mugen was feverish from the steam, and that he was definately not blushing. Really.

5.

Fuu had taken up to washing out some of her clothes and Jin's, who had gratefully handed them over after a long day. Mugen on the other hand, refused to give up his raggedy threads, waved her off and disappearing for the evening.

She passed by the room Jin was in, who was clad only in the light white yukata and had fallen asleep, head tilted slightly forward and hand wrapped tightly around his katana. Fuu was a tad bit worried-- he could really catch a cold sleeping like that, and ran to where her own room was, grabbing some blankets.

When she got back to where Jin was, the samurai was wrapped in a familiar, red jacket that smelled distinctly of the sea.

6.

Mugen liked it when Jin was angry.

This was so, because when Jin was angry, he was usually angry at Mugen.

This meant the somber man's attention was his, and his alone.

7.

Jin liked it when Fuu was angry at Mugen.

This was so, because then Mugen would look Jin in the eye.

And there was brief understanding between the two for that one, single second.

8.

Fuu watched her two older companions, observing their sleeping. The trio had gotten used to each other's presence by now, and relaxed in each other's company.

Fuu looked at Mugen. He laid splayed out, arms and legs stretched out like some demented starfish, his snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Fuu looked at Jin. He sat upright, back stiff and straight as the sword that was his soul, silent and laxed, though not quite showing it.

Fuu then looked at their hands, their fingers, which barely touched each other's.

9.

For the most part, their days went by quickly.

But when it ended, it was too fast. Too sudden, too soon.

By the end, Jin couldn't get rid of the smell of sea on him.

By the end, Fuu couldn't erase the memory of their hands briefly touching.

By the end, Mugen had finally admitted to his obsession.

He just wished, the end had come sooner.

-end-