Work Text:
Z regarded the other man silently as he talked; S liked to talk, he thought, unable to suppress the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He often wondered if they really were made of the same building blocks, as different as they were. S was loud, confident, outgoing – Z could feign those qualities, sure, but he was naturally more reserved. At ease in his own company, attentive and a man of few words, even he had been surprised that the noisy and at times obnoxious S didn’t grate on his admittedly rather short nerves.
Quite the opposite, in fact, Z had realised early on that he genuinely did enjoy S’s company.
The Fusion had also noticed more recently that he had started paying more and more attention to S’s appearance...the fluid movements of his hands as he talked, the slight skip in his step as he walked, the small bounce of his hair when he tilted his head with a questioning or mischievous grin.
Was it strange for him, of all people, to consider S handsome? Did that make him narcissistic? But they weren’t the same person...not technically, yet still, they were also one and the same. They were both “Gogeta” after all. It was something Z tried not to think about too deeply regardless, reluctant to even consider the semantics of falling for someone who was both you and not you.
And that, he knew, was what was happening; he was falling for S.
He realised with a start that S had stopped talking.
And that he was still staring.
Snapping to attention, Z averted his gaze as coolly as he could muster, clearing his throat as he willed away the blush that threatened to blossom up to his ears. He took a breath, opening his mouth to say something, but hesitated when S laughed. Impossibly soft, impossibly gentle, unlike anything he’d ever heard from his other self before. His heart shuddered.
“You didn’t hear a word I just said did you?” S breathed through a chuckle, not an ounce of the annoyance Z had been expecting in his tone. He hazarded a glance, expecting thinly veiled disappointment or frustration in S’s expression. As it was, he wasn’t immediately sure what emotion he saw in those vibrant, electric irises.
“I...” began Z, a flash of panic at being unable to read the other’s mood concealed, he hoped, quickly enough for S not to notice, “I was...thinking. Sorry, would you repeat it for me?”
S visibly hesitated and Z found himself caught off guard by the out-of-place uncertainty on his counterpart’s face.
‘Beautiful...’
That one, immense thought materialised so suddenly, so clearly and unexpectedly that this time Z couldn’t suppress the colour that rose to his cheeks.
“Z-! Are you ok?” The concern lacing his voice only served to deepen the flush by at least five shades, and he frantically tried to cover his face with his hands.
Gentle fingers tentatively brushed against the back of one of his hands, then the other. They lingered there for a moment; then slowly, carefully began prising them away from Z’s face, grasping them firmly once they were clear. S held them there, Z meeting his eyes with a hint of fear, confusion and shame. S’s breath hitched at the sight – Z really was power and vulnerability all rolled into one, glorious being. S, too, realised he had well and truly fallen.
“What...were you thinking about?” S tested, tilting his head in such a way that his one blue bang wafted over a half-lidded eye.
“Will you...repeat what you said first?” whispered Z, trying to buy a little more time to formulate what on earth he could say that would get him out of this situation.
S’s eyes widened slightly and an embarrassed laugh accompanied the sudden dip of his head.
“You really didn’t hear did you...? I may have just...confessed something to you. Something I now feel as though might...be more mutual than I thought.”
Z looked up sharply, staring wide-eyed at the mop of blue hair in his eye line. Hesitating for barely a heartbeat, Z slipped one of his hands from the other’s gentle grasp, and hooked a curled finger under S’s chin. He tilted his head up just enough for their eyes to meet, and Z’s heart threatened to leap from his chest at the sight of the shy, insecure expression.
“So...ask me again...what I was thinking about...” his voice barely a whisper now.
S blinked slowly, squeezed Z’s hand and breathed:
“W...what were you thinking abou-”
He was cut off by the sensation of soft lips resting against his, the action slow and nervous, but with a complete conviction that – quite literally – took S’s breath away.
Z moved his head back ever so slightly, parting them, and S merely relished in their closeness, in the soft puffs of the other’s breath mingling with his own.
“Does that answer your question?” Z muttered, his voice wavering slightly. S huffed a tiny, relieved laugh and drew Z in tightly, wrapping his arms around the other man and burying his face in the crook of his neck.
He mumbled something incoherent and Z couldn’t help but laugh.
“I still didn’t hear you, y’know.”
“...Don’t make me say it again.”
“That’s not really fair. I answered your question.”
S sighed with false exasperation and lifted his head until his lips were right next to the blonde’s ear.
“I think I might love you.”