Fruit

1x5

Kunzite has been drilling Jadeite in the courtyard for hours under the blazing summer sun, daggers against sword, past any semblance of luncheon, and when he's finally dismissed to slump sweaty and ravenous towards the dining room, he finds nothing but an empty table and a note.

I know Kunzite's being mean. Saved lunch for you. In my chambers. Master.

He collapses panting in a chair for a little while before he can bring himself to move again, and reads the note over and over, shakes his head, and grins.

Endymion is sprawled in his shirt-sleeves on the sofa in his private parlor, and greets Jadeite with a big grin and a plate of lunch--chilled fish with fruit sauce, classic midsummer's fare. Jadeite grins back, weakly, and collapses to sit on the floor at his feet, grabbing for the pitcher of ice water. Endymion ruffles his matted hair like a puppy's, though he has to wipe his hand on his pants afterwards.

"Can I," Jadeite starts, still a little breathless, and tugs on the neck of his uniform.

"Of course." So he strips to the waist in a scuffling blur and tosses his jacket aside with venom.

"Man is a menace," Jadeite mutters. "A monster. God. Remind me why I wear black?"

"Because it looks hot, dummy. Now eat."

Jadeite gathers up his lunch and leans back against the sofa with his head on the edge of a pillow and Endymion's long legs on either side of him, and as he eats they laugh and joke like boys half their age, mostly about Kunzite and what's biting his ass. Jadeite thinks sometimes that the Master probably has a little secret like this with each of them, but he can't even begin to guess how he is with the others; he just knows that, alone with Endymion, they can both be the big silly idiots they never really can around anyone else.

He finishes and sets the plate on the table, nothing but a puddle of sauce left, and Endymion bends down and licks the back of his neck. He yelps, and his spine tingles--there's that weird instinct he gets whenever anyone touches him there that says he's won, roll over now--and he blurts out, "No, stop, I'm all sweaty, that's got to taste--"

"Not too bad," says Endymion, pure mischief, and reaches for the plate. "Could use some sauce though."

Jadeite squirms as fruity fingertips streak over his neck and shoulder, but it's the methodical cleaning afterwards, all flickering tongue, that reduces him to a wiggling, giggling mess between his master's legs--and then he sees Endymion reaching for the half-empty pitcher.

"Cooled down enough yet?" he asks pleasantly as he fishes out a chunk of ice, and Jadeite goes bug-eyed as the other long-fingered hand slides down to tap his nipple.

"Oh nononono no you don't!"

"Ohhhhh yes..."