#it's from the ~spicy~ fic but it's not spicy they're just bein dumb and Not Flirting

[bobtheacorn]

k here's that leosagi wip;

An inconsiderate beam of sunlight reaches all the way into the room first thing in the morning and hits Leo directly face. Living underground for his entire life has not acclimated him to such horrendous conditions. He groans softly and turns, pulling the blanket up over his head. He reaches across the futon and finds a cold spot on the bare mattress.

Usagi is gone.

Leo groggily lifts his head. The futon is still down because Leo is half across it, but the duvet has been folded up and placed in the corner, the pillow Usagi used set neatly on top of it. Leo's heart does a funny flip, a cold spike creeping up along his spine. What day is it? Did he leave…? Leo rolls over the other way, squinting into the sunlight.

Usagi is out in the yard doing his katas.

He's been at it long enough that he's gotten warm and slipped out of the top half of his kimono. It hangs around his waist, the long triangle-dappled sleeves trailing as he moves like flowing water from one complex form to the next. Willow Branch and Young Willow glint in the morning sun, both bright as fire. They make almost no sound as they slice the air in tandem. Usagi never once loses his footing, off-balances, or over-reaches with either blade. His white fur is bright with a sheen of sweat, the muscle underneath slightly more pronounced.

Leo makes himself comfortable on the pile of pillows and lays there appreciating the view.

Objectively, because Usagi's unique regimen is like nothing Leo has ever seen, and Leo has watched a ton of material-arts / dual-wielding training videos in the vast fathoms of the World Wide Web. The past couple of years, after the Invasion specifically, he's really leaned into the meditations and performing katas in the morning and breathing exercises and herbal teas. They helped give him small goals to reach when his recovery was hard. They became routines he found comfort in whenever he relapsed…..

Anyway, he's also appreciating the view less objectively, because each shift of weight, each subtle turn of the wrist, each tensing muscle and steady exhalation, pronounces the control Usagi has over literally every movement. His burgundy eyes are sharp and focused, his mouth slightly open, unbound ears catching the wind.

Leo chirps.

Usagi's ears twitch in Leo's direction. His eyes follow a moment later. He relaxes his stance and drops his swords to his sides, smirking. Bastard.

"You need something?"

"Uuuuh, who what me?" Leo asks, realizing that he chirped for attention (and Usagi gave it to him, and that's not fair, it just adds to the all the bubbling warmth maliciously filling up Leo's chest). He throws the duvet aside and grabs for his pants, wiggling into them while Usagi laughs at the spectacle Leo makes on purpose. "Fine, y'know what, yeah, whatever! Hey, we haven't sparred in a while, you wanna?"

"You want to spar?" Usagi asks, surprised but smiling. He sheathes his wakizashi first and then his katana. Leo hops off the porch. "We don't have any bokken."

"S'fine, we can do hand-to-hand. Unless you're chicken."

Leo tucks his fists into his armpits and clucks, strutting out into the yard where there's a little more space. Usagi doesn't rise to the bait. Leo hadn't really expected him to. He's worked out some of that hot, mean temper from when they were kids - or rather, Katsuichi worked it out of him, with a shoot of bamboo. Usagi is making that face that means he doesn't know whether to frown in disapproval at Leo's spectacular display of immaturity or grin because of it, and calmly pulls his swords from his belt and sets them aside on the porch.

He takes the time to shrug back into the top of his kimono and straighten it out as he moves to stand across from Leo.

"Why don'chu just take that the rest of the way off so you can actually move, huh?"

"Why don't you worry about your own maneuverability?"

"Oh babe, I've so got maneuverability~"

"We'll see. So what are the rules?"

"I dunno." Leo starts stretching, pulling one arm across his chest and then the other, twisting as much as he's able to within his shell. He'll regret it if he doesn't, but it's also for show. He's so unbothered. "Whoever disrobes the other wins?"

"Leo, that's vulgar!" Usagi says, but laughs.

"Right yeah it's way less vulgar to pin each other to the ground and -"

"Take this seriously!"

"Make me a better offer," Leo laughs.

"First to land three blows wins."

"Booorrringg, but fine!"

"And you can't pull back into your shell," Usagi adds, "Or teleport."

"Ppppfffffine fine lets go!"

Leo has done the stretching. He's goaded his opponent. He bounces on his toes, from foot to foot. He stops being silly long enough to indulge Usagi with a bow to officiate the start of the match, and then he charges right in. Between Leo's unique brand of turtle luck and Usagi's god-given propensity to always find or purposefully put himself into a Situation, they both tend to attract an abnormal amount of Peril - but they attract different flavors. Leo is used to fighting suped-up mystic villains that vary on the Homicidal scale, not Some Guy with a Sword (optional) who will absolutely kill him if given the chance.

Leo knows he has the bioengineered advantage of strength and speed.

He also knows if he doesn't catch Usagi off guard or do something to throw him off his game quickly, Usagi will put him on the ground.

Leo goes for the belt.