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Focus.
Hyperlaser tried to focus, he really did. The match was going so well for one of the five teammates perched far from the action and firing headshots. Medkit kept Banhammer in check and close by, the new cowgirl put on a good show, and Biograft was surprisingly competent after having been nearly reduced to scrap metal last round. The melees took care of most of the threats while Medkit rounded the team together, and Scythe provided some extra ranged support when a target set their eyes on Hyperlaser, thinking he was an easy target. Hyperlaser enjoyed the peace of firing away in an isolated spot; the commotion was far from him, allowing his concentration to lock on his target and fire away until they were nothing but ashes.
Usually.
Unfortunately for him, Katana stalked through the arena like a shadow—surprising for a demon of his stature. His steps were as light as a feather, but his frame cast a thick silhouette over nearly all of his enemies as a warning before his opponent met a gruesome end. As if the sharp katana that sliced flesh and bone was not threatening enough, he had been utilizing his strand of barbed red rope much more often; he had explained in a televised interview that he wished to practice his aim more since it would be vital to reel in a good kill. The threat of the rōnin’s power should have been reserved for the Phighters in the main arena, but there was a reason why Katana was known for misfortune.
So Katana decided to practice the aim of his thread on Hyperlaser, yanking him from his perch to the inside of a building.
Fortunately and unfortunately, his aim was already stellar, the rope snagging around Hyperlaser’s waist and pulling him back. He lost his footing and grip on his railgun, feeling it slip from his fingers as he flew backward until a pair of his arms slithered around him and absorbed the rest of his momentum. The impact of the collision was surprisingly light, but it seemed that Katana had sacrificed a painless grapple to keep Hyperlaser unharmed. As the rope fell from Hyperlaser’s body and traced the floor like a river’s course, he noticed that not a single scratch or tear maimed his blazer. Instead, the barbed end of the thread was in Katana’s hands, scratching up those already calloused palms as he began to wind up the string back to its coil.
“Come on, now. We both have a round to win,” Hyperlaser shook out his arms tingling with pins and needles. Even with Katana’s precautions to keep Hyperlaser unharmed, the cord had tied just a little too tight around the mercenary.
“It can wait,” said Katana rather curtly before latching his thread on his side. One of his arms still snaked around Hyperlaser’s waist while the other cupped his helmet’s side as if he were caressing his cheek.
He squirmed in vain to get free and retorted, “I thought you were supposed to be the one constantly pressed for time.” He did not mind Katana’s affection, but could it wait? The answer was obvious before the question settled in Hyperlaser’s mind—of course not. Hyperlaser had dared to forsake Katana and the heart that he had made tender, and such treason was punishable however Katana saw fit. And all for the sin of Hyperlaser running off to his team’s place and denying his dearest one a kiss of good luck before the round began.
“It seems you have reversed the roles, then,” Katana gave Hyperlaser a taste of his own sassy medicine before hooking a finger beneath the helmet’s rim. He would never dare to remove the helmet from Hyperlaser without his approval, so this was the subtle signal of his desire to see his beloved’s face. Understanding the gesture like an instinct, Hyperlaser sighed and lifted off his helmet, and the moonlight from the outside flooded into his eyes. He squinted and squeezed his eyes shut like a cat awakened from a good nap, and Katana could not help but lean in closer and chuckle, “You are lovely, Hyperlaser.”
Biting his cheek and averting his gaze, the mercenary tried to push Katana away by the mask on his face, yet he felt those large but gentle hands take up his wrist like a duckling and pull it off to the side while his other hand pushed back his mask. Before he knew it, the space between Katana’s thumb and index fingers collected the nape of Hyperlaser’s neck, and he pulled Hyperlaser into a kiss—one longer than usual and sweeter than ever. Despite the scars mangling the shape and form of their lips, they molded so well together in a kiss, so snug and easy that Hyperlaser wondered why they did not kiss more.
When they pulled away to sneak a breath in between, Hyperlaser began to mumble, “You happy now, big guy—” but he could hardly finish his sentence before Katana pushed their lips together again to silence him. After this second kiss, Hyperlaser finally mustered the sense to pull himself away and hold Katana back by the shoulders, now speaking a little louder, “‘Tana, what’s your deal? I just kissed you.”
“You see, Hyperlaser, I once made a vow,” Katana spoke, bringing Hyperlaser closer by the waist and murmuring into his neck, planting soft kisses from shoulder to neck.
“Oh… And that vow is..?” It was a dare simply to ask, and in response, Hyperlaser felt the samurai sworn to his heart squeeze him a little tighter.
Katana’s eloquent words had the wisdom of an elder but the mischief of a teenager madly in love as he let his words seep into Hyperlaser’s skin, “Whatever wrong is done unto me, I will avenge tenfold.”
* * *
Focus, dammit. Hyperlaser scolded himself for the way his mind wandered to the tightness of the rope around his torso and the warmth of Katana’s kisses that apologized for the discomfort of the thread. The threat was not empty; Katana did not let a moment of peace grace Hyperlaser, and soon the round flipped from some almost leisurely target practice to a game of dodging Katana’s attempts to rope him in. Even in those rare moments of finding respite beneath a balcony’s canopy, Hyperlaser could hardly line up a shot without feeling his attention drift to the tingle on his lips. Katana had already managed to kiss him three more times already, and the rōnin had no plan to abandon his efforts any time soon.
Another attempt to line up a headshot was snuffed when the familiar cord dug into his abdomen and pulled him back into Katana’s chest rather quickly; he must have been lurking behind Hyperlaser for quite a bit. Hyperlaser, familiar with the drill, turned away from the arena and moved his fingers to his helmet, but Katana took his hand away from the helmet and led him deeper into the pagoda until not a single eye except for the eyes of each other would be witness.
The cord fell to the floor, signaling that it was now time for Hyperlaser to show his face. However, the wispy hairs on Hyperlaser’s head had not fallen from the helmet before Katana took his cheeks and kissed him gently. The surprise turned to reflex, and Hyperlaser dropped his helmet to the floor and let his free hands brush through Katana’s mane of hair. Years of honor evident in length and thickness had become tangled and gnarled by several wrong turns and sins, but now here was Hyperlaser to comb out the knots of the past. Even if Katana’s locks remained grayed and twisted, and even if Hyperlaser’s fingers caught onto mats too horrible to untangle in the present moment, Katana felt that his hair was beautiful whenever Hyperlaser’s fingers were his hairbrush.
Hyperlaser drew back prematurely and scoffed out a laugh, “Eager, aren’t you?”
Katana did not answer, instead pulling him in for another kiss. Only when he drew back did he begin to speak.
“I cannot help myself.”
Another kiss.
“You are magnificent.”
And another.
“I love you.”
Katana moved in for another kiss, but Hyperlaser arched their foreheads together to hold him back for a moment. Katana seemed confused, his ragged eyebrows knitting together and a breath once bated falling from his parted lips.
“This isn’t about me not kissing you, is it?” Hyperlaser presumed, and he watched as the hesitation came and passed over Katana’s face. This affection was not rare, but its extremely frequent timing was far too strange to be ignored. Ultimately, the rōnin gave a slow nod, and Hyperlaser sighed, “Thought so. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Her,” was all he said, but the slow creak of his head outside made it evident that Katana spoke of Scythe. Hyperlaser watched the sight of the cowgirl tearing apart one of Katana’s teammates, and while he had little reaction, he felt his beloved tense beneath his fingers.
Hyperlaser hummed in thought before he tried to reassure Katana with a stroke over his cheekbones, “You’ll be fine. She can’t do anything serious to you as long as you’re in the Phight.”
“It’s more than that, Hyperlaser,” interjected Katana brashly, but realizing his mistake, he murmured an apology before continuing, “I don’t want her hurting anyone else…” His fingers freed Hyperlaser’s waist to trace beneath Hyperlaser’s own eyes—hauling dark circles, but at least his eyes reflected back a tired blue than a cold, blank white that reflected back to Katana years he regretted. “Especially you.”
“You’re not gonna lose me,” he reassured Katana as he moved his thumbs all along his stretched and wrinkled face. He massaged Katana’s cheekbones and cracked a smile when he heard an involuntary purr thunder from deep within the ronin’s chest. “I promise.”\
“…I love you.” Katana snuggled into Hyperlaser’s neck again, this time keeping his lips dormant in favor of simply taking in the mercenary’s scent. Hyperlaser’s hands drifted to his spine and traced over its ridges like soft clouds traveling over a mountain range. He sucked in a breath at Hyperlaser’s touch and added in a whisper, “So much…”
“I love you too, ‘Tana.” He lifted Katana’s face to lock eyes with him—one beautiful red eye that blazed as red as the fire of vengeance, but it was soft and muted for Hyperlaser—as soft as love itself.
Katana could not help himself from leaning in once more to steal the final kiss as the buzzer for the round wailed to crown Hyperlaser’s team the winners. Katana was inevitably due for the wrath of Valk, who would practically be screeching to a wall. But for now, Katana had no other worries, not when Hyperlaser melted them away with a single kiss—and he had given him ten.
Focus, was all Hyperlaser thought in that moment, but his conscience was quick to add, Focus on what is important. And when Hyperlaser looked into Katana’s eyes—one of blazing passion and the other of emptiness that waited to be filled with Hyperlaser's affections, he knew exactly where his attention should lie.