Straightening up after sharpie-ing a label on one of the last boxes, Mamoru pushes it into his room with his foot, and -- carefully -- around the corner so it's more or less against the wall. "Good enough," he says, dropping the sharpie in the box too. "People who like decorating can damn well decorate, my cleaning is done."
'Cleaning'. He's literally one step away from just having shoved everything willy-nilly in a closet. Everything breakable or ruinable-by-spill and not necessary for party has been moved into Mamoru's room or the rooms of the respective owners of the things, furniture has been rearranged to be partyish, further (see: card tables and folding chairs) furniture has been acquired and leaned against walls in corners to be unfolded if necessary, and no cables remain unprotected.
One might suspect the boxes have largely gone into Mamoru's room so he can barricade the door once fleeing inside.
He looks up at Kunzite, mussed from extensive housecleaning, and there's a strange expression on his face. It's partly incredulous excitement and partly building social anxiety; the signs of both are very clear. "What was I thinking, agreeing to this?"
There are two more boxes due to be hauled into Kunzite's room, largely because breakable and ruinable things are more common in that apartment, and it's easier to volunteer his own space than to negotiate with Zoisite over the items that don't have a clear and specific owner. There are three more for Jadeite's; that's Jadeite's problem. And no-one but Nephrite is touching his telescope.
Close enough to done.
"You were thinking," Kunzite replies, "'it's just the roof, obviously it won't be that bad.' Or possibly 'clearly it will just be some of our friends.'" He swipes a hand through his hair, which started out tied back (now that it's long enough to) and has since broken its bonds and fallen loose and straight around his shoulders again. "Maybe a little 'it would be nice if Madoka didn't have to do everything,' or 'the last time Virtue specifically was sociable was when again?', or 'take that, Agera.' And most certainly," and there's an almost-imperceptible gentling around his eyes, "you were thinking 'these people are mine and I want everyone to know it.'"
There's a Look on Mamoru's face at the first reason, and it's left unexplained because they both know that 'it's just the roof' is so incredibly unlikely when this many people are going to show up, plus what if it rains?
He thumps against the wall to lean, jamming his hands in his pockets and blowing his bangs out of his eyes, and he listens to the rest of the litany. The corners of his eyes crinkle up at each successive reason until the last one, at which he flushes faintly and smiles crookedly, looking away. "Probably guilty as charged," he says under his breath, and shifts his shoulders against the wall first, then takes a hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. "But calling it out like that-- I shouldn't be so possessive. It's unseemly in this day and age."
"You're not being possessive," Kunzite points out -- they can leave aside the rain question, especially since this week it's less 'if' than 'when.' "You're not demanding Kyouko find Momo another guardian, for instance. It's a different kind of declaration. 'Here we are; this is who "we" consists of; if you have problems with them, bring them here; in the mean time, we don't intend to cause problems, and are willing to make a goodwill gesture. With meat.'"
Somehow, as he's been talking, Kunzite's moved closer, till at the last he's set one shoulder against the wall beside Mamoru's patch and is looking down at him.
"Yeah, okay," acquiesces the prince, and the smile comes back, tugging at one corner of his mouth. He doesn't move except for his head, eyes tracking Kunzite's progress until he's looking up at the taller boy next to him, back still flat against the wall. "The meat's important," he notes after a second of just looking. "So's the rest..."
There are dumb things coming out of his mouth because he's not thinking very clearly, suddenly. He must be tired from the mental effort of preparing for a party. That's gotta be the reason.
It's probably not the reason he reaches up to re-tuck Kunzite's hair behind his ear. "I do really love," Mamoru says quietly, "that my friends are comfortable coming here, come here so often. And that people come here when they're hurt, and that the factions-left-at-the-door rule has held up so well."
"So's the rest." Mamoru's hand is interrupted in its descent, caught and held lightly in a slightly larger one. "Even aside from the kindness -- people tend to trust the people they've eaten beside a little more."
The quieter words don't gain an open smile, but it's not as if Mamoru needs it to be open to see it clearly. "Even when you might prefer a little more time to yourself," Kunzite murmurs back. "But it's good to know that people see you. Want to be near you." His mouth twitches at the corner a little more visibly. "We may have to keep volunteers ready to keep Kyouko and Hannah on different floors if they both turn up, granted. But Kyouko's behaved herself so far, for your sake."
Hand caught; hand held. Mamoru doesn't pull it away-- instead, he finally half-turns to face Kunzite more fully, and the smile that'd been lingering turns into a grin accompanied by a ducking of his head. It's partly at the idea of Hannah and Kyouko having a violent battle of toothy grins and fangy scowls, and it's partly at the realization that they're both leaning against the wall and ssssort of facing each other instead of something even vaguely more reasonable.
But then Kunzite turns it back serious, a little bit, and it calls back to the first part of his response. Mamoru looks up, and he's not smiling, but he's still very quietly happy; that shows behind his eyes, more than anything else. "They can leave and come back if they need to let off steam, they know I'll fix them both. But Kyouko's talked a little about it -- she can dislike her immensely and still be professional, and that's not just for my sake, which is good. It's more self-control on its own instead of only to please me."
Mamoru pulls their hands to him and clasps them lightly to his chest with his other hand, and ocean-blue eyes still meet clear grey, serious, just shy of earnest. "And the rest -- yes. That they want to be near me, and that they feel safe enough in this space to relax, to come here for a rest, for respite. I want them to have a place like that. I want to give them that, who've worked and fought so hard, who believe so very strongly and who have such hope. That's the other reason for this. More people who can think of this place as that, even a little."
Eyes to drown in, when they hold that particular flavor of quiet. Appreciated even more than the grin. The image of Kyouko and Hannah staggering back prompts a glint of amusement in Kunzite's eye -- a brief one, given how deep and real Kyouko's cause for anger with Hannah is. But it's there all the same.
When Mamoru's fallen silent at the last, Kunzite leans in and brushes a kiss against his forehead. "Healer at heart," he says. "Even in the small things."
There's a wry look, its own kind of gentle at the edges. "Healing? I guess, conceptually, maybe. I'm happy my home isn't empty. I'm happy it's a home instead of an aerie. People should have someplace they can go like that. And that they can, even when I'm not here..."
The smile's back, not a grin, but all crinkle-eyed and bright. "...then things are going very right. It's still new. Even when I have to go hide I'm happy people are here."
Then he leans in, tilting his head up and letting go that one hand, putting it on Kunzite's shoulder, and pushes up a little to kiss him; everything blooms bright gold with it, and he tastes of the home he's talking about.