Work Text:
Johnathan takes Herla’s hand and yanks him away from the ghost gaining on them, and they run practically screaming in the other direction.
Herla knows his ensigns are scattered throughout this old rundown mall fighting off the lackeys of this ghost hoard, but right now it feels like it’s just him and Johnathan alone in the world. He pulls Herla into one of the stores not fully locked down, ducking underneath the gate meant to keep people out.
Apparently, this mall had been closed down some years ago- just completely abandoned with everything left behind- due to a loss in revenue from frequent and continued ghost sightings and the occasional loss of life. Since its closing, however, the head ghost who started all of this has been picking off urban explorers, homeless people just looking for a place to stay, and whoever else has been stupid enough to step foot into this mall.
The hoard has gotten to be so bad that Herla and his team had to be called in. Johnathan had shown up as well, much to Herla’s dismay, but no amount of bickering and reasoning could shake him from his mission. Stupid.
The ghost isn’t far behind them now, and they both know it. Herla doesn’t argue when Johnathan suddenly sidesteps around a display and shoves him down into an open cedar chest. He jumps in on top of Herla and the lid slams shut, the latch clicking loudly as it snaps into place.
The ghost can be heard still milling around for a moment, searching for them, before it finally gives up and leaves for easier prey. The chest smells like old fabric and Herla barely manages to contain the sneeze currently making his eyes water. The cedar chest is only barely large enough to hold both of the men as they pant and come down from the adrenaline rush, their bodies flush together.
Despite how it digs into Herla’s ribs, he’s grateful for Johnathan’s equipment creating a barrier between them.
After a moment of listening for the ghost just to be sure, he realizes that Johnathan is trembling in his hold, his breaths shuddering. “What’s wrong with you?” Herla demands, his tone betraying more of his concern than he’d like.
“Would now be a bad time to tell you I’m claustrophobic?” Johnathan chuckles half-heartedly.
“Of course you are,” Herla sighs dramatically. “Just, try not to panic.” He uses his one foot not trapped underneath the other man to kick at the chest lid. He has very little room to work with, as this chest is not deep at all, but he does what he can either way. Even if he can’t manage to break them free, he still has the potential to alert one of his ensigns to their plight.
Johnathan’s fists curl in Herla’s top robes and he instinctually brings his arms around to cradle Johnathan’s head into his shoulder. The ghost hunter’s breathing is growing more shaky by the minute. “This wasn’t how I was planning to die, you know,” he says, a weak attempt at a joke to calm his own nerves.
“And you’re not going to,” Herla promises. As annoying as Johnathan is- and as much as Herla hates to admit it- his life would feel emptier if the human weren’t in it anymore. He’s grown accustomed to their bickering and half playful spats to the point where he almost grows worried should Johnathan not show up.
Him and his stupid face, his triumphant grin whenever he wins an argument, the warmth of his hands and the softness of his body now pressed tightly against Herla’s.
All of his other senses have been cranked up to eleven in the pitch blackness of the cedar chest, and at this range he can smell Johnathan’s sweet coconut shampoo. He can feel Johnathan’s heavy breathing against his neck, the shaky rise and fall of his chest. He can feel every tiny movement the other makes and how he’s slowly starting to tremble harder.
“I- need to get out of here. I can’t breathe,” Johnathan hisses into the silence when Herla pauses to rest his leg. “This is so not okay.” Johnathan’s voice wavers in his throat and he presses himself harder into Herla to keep his back from brushing the lid of the chest and furthering his panic. “I can’t do this, Herla,” he says. He’s starting to hyperventilate now, raggedly pulling in air and pushing it back out before he can get any benefit from it.
Herla starts to rub Johnathan’s back in an attempt to calm him. “I’ve got you. Just take deep breaths for me. I can’t focus on getting us out if you’re panicking, Johnathan,” Herla reasons. The other man shakes his head and hums uncomfortably.
Herla grits his teeth and focuses on kicking at the lid once again.
He can hear the rattling of the latch with every kick. It can’t be more than a flap and if he can just get it to come loose- The lid suddenly flies open in tandem with his next kick, resulting in the ensign who found them leaping back to avoid being kicked in the face. Johnathan sits up abruptly, gasping in the open air.
“Captain! We were so worried,” the ensign shouts, shining his flashlight at them. Herla can see the blush dusting Johnathan’s face as they’re helped out of the chest, stumbling into each other slightly before righting themselves.
Herla dusts himself off as Johnathan fixes his hair, the both of them making a point to look anywhere but at each other or the ensign who found them.
“Report,” Herla orders, distracting himself and his ensign.
He nods, snapping back into his role. “All of the ghosts have been successfully rounded up and captured,” he says diligently.
“Good.” Herla nods, smoothing out his robes nervously. Johnathan shuffles his feet off to Herla’s side, still not looking at him. “Return to the others,” he orders again. The ensign glances between Herla and the ghost hunter before dipping his head obediently and leaving them alone again.
“I told you we weren’t going to die in there,” Herla snarks, turning to face Johnathan. He scoffs, coughing slightly. Whether from the dust or just plain tension, Herla doesn’t know. “Don’t do something stupid like that again,” he scolds.
Johnathan rolls his eyes but his smile returns just as bright as ever. “I’m actually starting to tolerate you, believe it or not,” he chuckles. His hands shake as he makes sure he still has his equipment, anxious tremors preventing him from holding onto his radio with only one hand while he clicks it on and reports to his HQ.
Herla allows Johnathan to lean against him while they finalize some stuff with the freshly-caught ghost hoard, grumbling about paperwork. Herla glares at any ensign who’s brave enough to stare at them for too long, hopefully chasing them off before Johnathan notices. Herla also walks him to his car, one hand hovering in the small of Johnathan’s back.
“Are you alright to drive?” Herla asks once they reach the heavy death machine parked a ways from the pegasi waiting in the mall parking lot. Johnathan nods, swallowing.
“Yeah, I think I’ll just go straight home. I can handle the paperwork in the morning once I’ve caught some shut-eye.” His smile is infectious. He looks at Herla for a long moment, green meeting brown, before he steps closer.
Johnathan takes Herla’s face into his hands and waits for Herla’s tiny nod before he moves in and presses their lips together. It’s quick, nothing more than a light peck, but it makes Herla’s head spin and both of them are blushing profusely. Johnathan steps back, smiling sheepishly, and climbs into his car.
“Don’t die, your Highness. You’re annoying enough alive,” he says, repeating something Herla had told him many months ago. Herla watches him pull out of the parking lot and disappear down the road before returning to his ensigns.
He pretends he doesn’t hear when one of them says, “So, are we just going to pretend that didn’t happen,” and gets gut-punched for it by the first lieutenant.