aiko's otter den

raise your weapon - Dusk threw away his past, his life, everything, to become a spy to preserve order. He’s now got to don the look of a family man and get a wife and child, all to prevent a war! Meanwhile, Bam is a beleaguered law secretary, struggling with identity. Miseng is a child looking to stop running. Hijinks will ensue. SxF au

Now with art by yole!

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Chapter 8

Khun glances at Bam, who is busy helping Miseng from the chair. He collects plates and shoots a look at Hatz, who merely crosses his arms and waits. This is such a power play. What an attempt at bullshit power. This was edging past overprotectiveness into fucking weird. Why was he so intense about it? What was he concerned about? His brother was grown.

Had he found something in his file? Or not found something? He’s pretty sure the Handler has edited their documents pretty well. That doesn’t mean anything, however. Hatz could just be a paranoid asshole of a person. But that didn’t explain this much hostility? Was it Bam being a man? Was it an extra layer of concern? Was it his disguise as a Khun?

All these thoughts swir. The solution is fairly straightforward. He can just kiss Bam and all is solved. But—

“Hatz,” Bam says sweetly as Miseng scampers away to get her pajamas (he distantly hopes this time Miseng doesn’t dunk the stuffed animal in the bath this time, they take forever to dry). “Are you becoming a voyeur in university?”

Hatz sputters and Khun stares at him, a surprised snort leaving his mouth. “Hyung!” he shouts, cheeks pink. “What are you saying?”

Bam sighs. “Well, I just… I don’t mind kissing my husband but in front of you? That’s a new one. Is that something you had to do in university to fit in? YOu said that was a good school?”

“That’s—” Hatz rubs his face. “That’s because this is new. You’re usually more open than this. I don’t want you to, for him to isolate you or worse.”

What happened in schools that caused that? Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Miseng peering out behind the door. He jerks his head to the right and she sticks her tongue out at him. She’s sure gotten bold for barely escaping grounding.

“Aguero has been a gentleman to me.” Bam’s voice sharpens. “Thank you for worrying but I’m really all right.”

Hatz stares back at his brother, stubbornness and concern etched all over his being. If it had a scent, it would be rolling off of him in rust and well water. Khun mentally sighs. This is for world peace, he tells himself before allowing a soft smile to cross his face.

“Bam it’s fine. Let’s humor him.”

It’s not like he minds kissing. He’s done it all the time, for any mission or situation in the moment. It’s just touching mouth and at most swapping spit. He’s even done it in public. It’s just how it is. And yet this time, it feels wrong in some way. It feels like proving a point, like a gotcha.

If he’s going to make out with Bam, even with a fake relationship, shouldn’t this be done with a little more respect? At least as a request from his partner’s brother?

Dusk has never seriously been in relationships but he’s pretty sure this is a lose-lose situation.

Why is he trying to justify not doing this?

Bam turns to him, eyes wide, tugging at his long hair. “If you’re okay with it,” he says and steps forward.

Khun mimics him, taking another step forward. Their height difference is minimal, so Bam barely has to lean up, more likely lean to the side. Then Khun turns his neck, to match mouth for mouth. Instead, Bam leans over and brushes Dusk’s cheek with his lips. He shuts his eyes and opens them. A ghost of a kiss, really, like his mother before school or his sister’s fingers —

Limp in the stretcher—

Gentle on his head before bed.

Then it’s gone, and there’s nothing on his face, but his cheekbones themselves feel warm. Hatz makes a strange noise in the background.

Dusk doesn’t know what kind of expression he’s making. Bam is smiling up into his eyes, warm eyed and bitter as the coffee he drinks on long train rides.

What did Bam see when he kissed his cheek? Surprise? Grief? an impossible standard of mother, generic and unattainable that didn’t exist?

Did he make up a mother and apologize to her memory for nothing at all?

Khun leans down himself before being prompted and presses a kiss on Bam’s cheek. Skin is soft, compared to the hands or the steady muscles on his back. Humans are warm, and the face shows it best. Bam lets out a soft, surprised sound when he does, eyes having closed when Khun moved. They’re open, staring at Khun with his mouth in a small ‘o’

It’s cute, like a puppy.

The door slams shut with a loud crack, startling them both from a daze. Hatz is nowhere to be seen.

Despite everything, they both start laughing for a moment. “I think,” Bam says, wiping his eyes. “I think we embarrassed him. I’m sorry for that. Thank you for the trouble.”

“The trouble?” Khun repeats. “He’s your brother, not a mushroom growing out of a sink.”

“He can be… intense sometimes,” Bam says, which feels like a massive understatement. “Raising him was difficult, and I was protective of him, but as I was before, I was probably in much worse danger than he was back then. So he… overcompensates in life. If he’s not the best and I’m not the happiest, there’s a problem, so he wants to solve it. Usually more honorably than this but I’m glad he didn’t try to duel you into the hospital or something.”

“That’s some intense loyalty,” Khun muses with a smile. “Are you fond of bringing that out of people?” Is there a revolutionary in you somewhere, demanding a pursuit of justice or peace?

Dusk doubts it. Bam’s profile is more ordinary than his brother’s. At the very least, he’s not a spy.

“Ah well.” He stretches and cracks his shoulder. “It’s been a busy day, Why don’t we clean this up and go to bed?”

“That may be for the best, though…” Bam glances at the cake. “He left the dessert. It’s one of his favorites.”

“We can see if it will last until tomorrow and maybe Miseng won’t punch a classmate this time.”

Bam snorts and Miseng eeps behind the door. Khun casts her a wry look. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the bath?”

Miseng stares at them, big eyes and mischief that Bam has somehow avoided his whole time here. She’s like a fox. “I wanna see mama and papa kiss for real,” she says, with no shame whatsoever.

Dusk unfortunately cannot contain the heat that burns his ears, and judging by the look on Bam’s face, your fake child shoving you together like two dolls is infinitely more embarrassing than your muscleheaded brother.

“No,” they say together in varying states of authority.

Miseng puffs out her cheeks. “Aw.”

At least she shuts the door.

Bam snorts again. “I don’t think I did this with my parents.”

“My mother didn’t bring dates home,” Khun replies absently, a truth and a lie. His mother didn’t date, period. She never knew when their father would come calling for something or other, and the last time she’d had a man in her house that wasn’t Dusk himself or a half-sibling it had been… messy.

“Too much to do to date,” Bam agrees without any real inflection on the subject.

They slept in separate rooms, have separate tasks during the day, and at most interact at the end and once in a while to keep up the charade that’s lasted not even a month. By that logic, there should be leagues, chasms between them that they walked on tightropes, impossible distances that could never and should never be closed by anyone, let alone a spy and a stranger and an orphan.

And yet Dusk doesn’t feel distant at all.

He should make a note of that. Attachment was no good for these situations.

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Everything aches.

This isn’t new, Bam knows. It usually predates a very busy work day and his body shedding itself from the inside on the worst of days. That mess with his brother (well meaning but so invasive) doesn’t help any. He doesn’t like lying to Hatz (but his brother is wrong that he doesn’t do it easily and often.) But all the same, that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. He rolls over in bed and goes to take care of things.

When he returns fifteen minutes later, his window is open. Hwaryun’s sitting on his bed.

He should be more surprised. He hadn’t exactly mentioned his change in address to her, and they usually contacted him at work during his lunch break. But she’s the one who found him in the first place, knowing he could kill before he even knew he could do it. She could easily find his place of residence, even if he wasn’t paying for it.

“Good evening, my prince,” she said. Her red eye bored into him like a bullseye.Bam braced himself. There was a last minute mission and he wouldn’t sleep well tonight. His clothes were clean and knives ready. She just had to say the word and he’d swallow the painkillers and go. He’s done it before.

“Hi,” he says, watching her go back to examining his room. His room with a recently repainted set of walls and nice wooden furniture and actual drawers instead of a big sack that stank of blood. His room that he could keep photos in and hide supplies and no one would break in (well obviously except her.)

“Congrats on your nuptials,” she continues, returning her gaze to him. Her long black dress is held together by a warm red sash, and it terrifies as much as it enchants him. “And further congratulations on keeping it a secret for so long. The Head does hope this does not discourage you in other matters.”

Bam shakes his head at once. “You don’t need to threaten them,” he says, soft and steady. He shouldn’t care. He knows he shouldn’t care, truly. But he can’t help it.

Here is a kind man (with secrets and lies and all people have them, and maybe a lot of his are hidden in grief and strength)

And a mischievous little girl (a kind of girl he’d have liked to be if he was anyone else, maybe, or who he’d have wanted). He cannot help but care for them.

Hatz always warned him that he cared too much. Then again, so did Wangnan, and Ehwa, and Endorsi.

He hopes Khun never tells him that.

“Nothing has to change. It will be more difficult,” he acknowledges. “But I thrived under difficulty. You have nothing to worry about.”

A wry smile turns Hwaryun’s mouth, her red lipstick starting to fade. “I can tell there is no concern on that front. I am merely here to confirm you are ours. Your brother has all the more to lose if you slip.”

“You know how he is,” Bam says. It’s not a threat. FUG — and thus Hwaryun — doesn’t need to threaten him whatsoever. “Everything will be well, for all of us.”

“Everything,” Hwaryun agrees. “Is for the Grace of a future with a better garden, where the roses can bloom.”

Bam feels an itch along his spine. “Always with a new spring,” he intones, though he has never seen a new spring in his life.

She smiles once more, cold and fierce. “Then until next time, my prince.”

He blinks and Hwaryun has seemingly disappeared. He knows her well enough to know otherwise.

Bam lets out a long sigh and closes the window before tucking himself into bed.

He hopes Miseng’s next day of school isn’t this exciting. He doesn’t know how much he can take!

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