yesgabsstuff:

Griffith and Guts have a relaxed night at home until an uncomfortable topic is broached, GriffGuts modern grad school AU. Mentions of self harm but not graphic. Again, special thanks to @madchen for the prompt. 

@tfan2013 @bthump @mastermistressofdesire @craigslost @farneseapologist

Griffith had been waiting with everything ready for about
ten minutes before Guts came home.

“Up for a movie tonight?” said Griffith.

“Taking a break?”

“I didn’t take any of my readings home.” Griffith
said. He took a sip of his wine. Guts sighed.

“I’m not going to help you procrastinate.”

“I’m not. ” said Griffith. Guts looked at him.

“I made popcorn and everything.” Griffith took the
second glass of wine and held it out to Guts.

Guts rolled his eyes and put his bag on one of the dining
chairs before grabbing the bowls and settling in on the couch. He took a sip of
the wine.  Griffith put Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind up
on the queue. Guts groaned.

“We’re not watching the Charlie Kaufman bullshit. It’s
pretentious.”

“Fuck off. It’s beautiful.“Griffith said , his
brows furrowing.

"I don’t like watching people scream at each other like
that.” Guts said with a frown.

Griffith patted his hand.

“How about this one?” he said, shifting over to Guardians of the Galaxy.

“No need to go that low brow for me.”  Guts crossed his arms over his chest.

Griffith stiffened a little bit.

“I’m kidding, Griffith.”

Griffith clicked on the movie and picked at his popcorn. Medusa
took her spot draped across Guts’ shoulders. She buried her face in the crook
of his neck. In the two weeks since the Wrestling Incident, as Griffith had
taken to calling it, they always started a tactful distance from each other.
One of them would eventually cave and make the first contact. He felt Guts’
hand on the small of his back. He sighed and soon Griffith found himself
wrapped in his arms, with his back on Gut’s chest. They rested content until
the film’s climax.

“No! You don’t monologue. You just put the fucking
staff on the ground! Oh my god.” Griffith pointed at the television.  Guts started laughing. Griffith felt the
vibration from his chest.

“What?” said Griffith.

“You think that you would make a good villain?”

“Well yeah. Before I even started on my master plan I would
be honest with myself about what I actually want. This fucko doesn’t know what
he wants. If he wants them to cower and suffer in his presence you enslave them
or something. If you want them to cease to be, you don’t announce yourself and monologue;
you just get it done. It’s not hard.”

Guts tickled him while Griffith did his best squirm out of
his arms.

“Stop! Guts I mean it!”

“I don’t see it.”

“Fuck you.” Griffith said with mild irritation.

“I’m not saying you’re not smart enough to do it. I just
can’t imagine you being so consumed with something that you forget other
people.” said Guts, soothing Griffith’s sides with smooth strokes.

“You haven’t
seen me when I have nothing left to lose.” said Griffith staring hard
ahead of him.

Guts had only seen
this look in passing flashes before; Like the time that some idiot at a party
had made a comment about how the value of a college education lessening in
direct relation to the number of Pell Grants given out.   It’s barely controlled violence always surprised
him.

“Is that a threat?” said Guts. He wrapped his arms
more tightly around Griffith’s waist. He tucked his chin onto Griffith’s
shoulder. He noticed, not for the first time the raised scar tissue on
Griffith’s upper arms.

“Maybe.” Griffith smiled a little. He squeezed
Gut’s hand. He looked  at him and
considered him for a moment.

“I think you could do.” said Griffith.

“Be a super villain?”

“Yeah. By the time you got to your goal it would be too
late for anyone to stop you.”

“Thank you.” said Guts.

They finished the movie in silence. Guts felt his attention
turn to the scars again once the credits had rolled. Their size suggested a
deep scratch. He gently brushed his fingers over the four parallel scars.
Griffith pulled away and covered his arm with his hand. He looked at him with
horror.

“I’m sorry.” said Guts.

Griffith had made himself into a little ball at the end of
couch and Guts reached towards him,  helpless against his own panic.

“Griffith?”