#lots of boonie hats were lost

[turannoktonos]

Aka...the aftermath :)

[bubble-dream-inc]

one kiss (is all it takes)

At first, you regretted agreeing to going to the game with the boys. Turns out a hockey game can be a lot more interesting than you thought.

Or; You and Price get caught on a Kiss Cam.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 1.5K

a/n: i have no idea how a hockey game - or the military - works. anyways. this was written in an hour, is barely edited and not beta read lmao

tags: just pure fluff and Soap being a smug lil bastard :))

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror one more time, accepting that yes, you did look as tired as you felt, but at that point you had no choice but to make your peace with it and try your hardest to rock those dark eye circles. At least you supposed your outfit looked presentable enough, since even if you were incredibly tired, you still felt like putting some effort into your appearance, telling yourself it was for no particular reason - or person - at all.

It had happened a couple of hours before. Sitting inside the bar across the street from the dingy hotel you and your teammates were staying after a successful recon mission, Soap and Gaz had disappeared for some time, returning later with a couple of tickets to a local hockey game. You found it best not to question how they got those, and, to be honest, you never pegged either of them to be into hockey, much like yourself, but Soap seemed so excited that you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were not looking forward to it one bit. Admittedly, you suspected the same thing happened with Price, who accepted the invitation somewhat hesitantly - you knew north american sports weren’t really his thing - and you admired Ghost for just saying ‘no’ to Soap’s face before returning to his cup of bourbon without another word. So that led you to where you stood at the moment, regretting falling into Soap’s trap and longing for your hotel bed that looked oh so comfortable. A knock on your door took you out of your reverie. Opening it, you found the devil himself standing outside with a smirk on his face.

“Hey, L.t. Ready to go?”  You rolled your eyes playfully at Soap’s nickname for your rank, humming in response while you fetched whatever you needed to go out from your room - making sure to grab a coat. 

Gaz and Price were already at the end of the corridor, waiting for the elevator, and, after greeting them both with a wave of your hand and a smile, you had to pretend to be very interested in the instructions written on the fire extinguisher by the wall to avoid gawking at your superior. It wasn’t often you got to see Price out of tactical gear and without his beloved boonie hat, and the sight of him in a basic and slightly too tight t-shirt under his jacket was doing things to you. Being pushed close to him in the impossibly small elevator once it arrived, too cramped for four soldiers to fit comfortably into, did not help you in the slightest. 

A short car ride later - and somewhat silent, since Soap had lost his aux cord privileges after the last time - you stood in front of the arena, swerving your way between the other attendees, except clearly less excited to be there. As the four of you looked for your seats, you wondered how long it would take for them to notice if you bolted to go back to the hotel and sleep, but decided against it. Soap and Gaz took the first two seats side by side, leaving you to sit at the other end, with Price on your left, and you found it both a blessing and a curse. As he removed his coat, clearly feeling too warm with the amount of people around, and left his bulky (and hairy) arms visible to the world, you decided it was more of a blessing. Not feeling like committing an HR violation, you scolded yourself to stop ogling at your unaware superior, too lost in your musings to realize he was side eyeing you with a knowing smirk. 

The first period flew by. You had no idea what were the teams names, you just know they were currently sitting at 1x0 when the first intermission rolled around, and, surprisingly, you were having a lot of fun. The crowd’s high energy and Soap’s enthusiastic cheering - even though he had said in the car he had no idea who was playing - was enough to make you momentarily forget how tired you were from the mission, and the fact it happened altogether. It was very rarely you got to enjoy some down time with your teammates, and that alone made you feel glad you accepted Johnny’s invitation.

Checking the time on your phone, you started scrolling through the various notifications, getting so immersed in the screen that you didn’t notice the way people around you were suddenly staring in your direction. Feeling observed, you looked up to the sight of people hollering and cheering around you, and, for some reason, Soap was angling his body out of his seat to look smugly at you, to which you only replied with a quizzical arch of your brow, receiving a nod upwards in response. Looking at the direction he nodded, you realized the huge screen in the middle of the stadium now displayed a banner written “Kiss cam.” 

Directly under a live feed of you and Price. 

That definitely could not be happening. 

Your blood froze, and you felt like you were both on fire and ice cold at the same time, trying to process what was going on in seconds. Instantly your brain conjured images of you watching with a side eye as Price rejected you publicly to the camera, probably sneering and making a “cut it out” motion with his hand, as if kissing you was something incredibly unimaginable. However, none of those visions came true, since, when you gathered the courage to actually look over to him - with what you imagined was a very wide eyed and flustered expression - he was actually calmly chuckling and smiling with that damn good looking smile of his. Looking this closely you could swear you saw a faint hint of red on his face as he turned to you with a very gentle gaze, clearly considering the idea and giving you a silent chance to back away if you didn’t feel comfortable with it. Of course, you knew that you would never even dream of shying away from an opportunity to kiss your very attractive Captain who you absolutely did not have a huge crush on, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. 

So, seeing no resistance from you, he leaned in closer and brought one of his huge hands to rest delicately holding your face, as if you were made of glass, and you felt like your heart stopped beating. Up close like this he smelled faintly of the cigar he liked to smoke and cologne he must have put on when you returned from the bar to get ready to leave for the game, and his blue eyes never looked so intense. You saw him smirk when you leaned in to meet him halfway before letting your eyes flutter close and your lips finally meet.

Kissing Captain Price was even better than you imagined. His mustache tickled your top lip and, in the background, you could hear the cheering of the crowd - particularly Soap’s hollers and someone, who you imagined was Gaz, wolf whistling - but you drowned it all to focus on the feeling of John’s lips moving against yours in a kiss that lasted a second, but felt like an hour inside your head. As you expected it, he did taste exactly like the cigar he smelled as, and a hint of mouthwash, and you found yourself embarrassingly sighing into the kiss. 

You decided you could spend a good few hours just kissing your Captain, but any second longer would be positively awkward for your audience, so, regrettably, you broke the kiss, almost going insane by the way he chuckled lowly against you before leaning back as well, giving the camera an uncharacteristic almost bashful smile. So much for not committing that HR violation. You didn’t find the courage to look anywhere, much less the damn camera, so you pathetically stared at your shoes instead, very aware of the way your face felt like a thousand degrees and you must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Distantly, you felt Soap’s eyes on you, burning holes in your face with what you imagined must have been the smuggest smile ever, but you didn’t turn to confirm your suspicions. 

Within seconds, the kiss cam had moved on, as well as the entire crowd, and you were the only one still dwelling on it as everyone cheered on another couple put on display. Trying to convince yourself it meant nothing, you shook your head and tried to pay attention to what was going on in the arena, something cut short when John Price himself discreetly leaned over for your ear, not turning his body or taking his eyes off the screen above you.

“You know,” He started above a whisper with his deep, gruffy voice. “If I knew you were such a good kisser, I’d have done this a lot sooner.”

With that, he leaned back into his seat, hand crossed above his stomach and a satisfied smirk on his face as he pretended not to notice the way you stared at him with wide eyes and your mouth gaping open like a fish.

That was going to be one long hockey game.

[slashscowboyboots]

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Different Speeds (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket ​ @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands ​ @smokeandmirrorz ​ @sodalitefully ​ @roger-taylors-car ​ @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 ​ @shawolat ​ ​@80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence.  18+ ONLY

Notes: Track #2 is by the sadly underrated Cowboy Junkies.  It was released in '93, and I wondered if I should include in a fic set in 1987, but then I realized this is fiction and there's no rules!   Yayyy!  It's such a killer song I had to add it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajtnaiLaJNQ

Checkout was at the ungodly hour of 11, and of course none of the band was anywhere to be found, just Karen perched on a chair in the lobby, still reading her book.  Love’s Surrender was the title of it, and Izzy snorted through his nose.  Surrendering was probably the last thing this uptight broad ever did.

“Fun night?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her page.

He shrugged.  “‘S’all right.”

She lowered her book.  “Heard you met Kasey.”

Izzy blinked.  “Uh, um, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperation pulling down her mouth.  “Oh, of course you don’t know her name,” she snapped.

“She didn’t know mine either,” he retorted.  “She thought I was Axl.”

Karen sighed.  “She blew him too.”

“Huh.  I thought he was with Velvet.”

Her eyes met his.  “Velvet insisted on it.”

Izzy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hazing ritual.  She made Kasey suck him off in front of everyone, then he announced that Velvet was better at it.  Velvet always does the local talent dirty.”

Izzy closed his eyes.  “Fuck,” he breathed, “you bitches don’t take any prisoners.”

She gave him a hard look.  “You’re the wildest band in LA.  Did you expect angelic whores?”

Izzy frowned, then said, “You’re not just here because of us, are you?  You protect her from the other girls too.”

“No.   She’s everyone’s little sister, although I’d kill one of them for doing something to her.”  She narrowed her eyes at him again.  “I’m here because I think I need to be.  Cause if I didn’t, I’d be sitting this shindig out.  This is definitely my last rodeo.”

“This is your third tour, isn’t it?  You were with Def Leppard too.”

Her eyes widened, and Izzy nearly licked his lips in glee.  “Steve is Steve Clark.  I found out some dirt about you,” he smirked.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she said in a low voice.

“You were a groupie.  Were you running naked through the hallways too?”

She stiffened, eyes widening and her face going pale, and for a second Izzy thought she was going to slap his face.  “No, I was trying to keep him from killing himself, you fucking asshole,” she gritted, then slumped down.  “I thought a blow job would put you in a better mood.  Guess you’re just a dick 24/7.”

“Sissy!” Celestia cried, flopping down on Karen’s lap.  

“Hi, Sis.  You and your beau doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Celestia answered, centering herself on Karen’s legs.  She was taller than Karen, and was nearly crushing her.  “Did I tell you he has an anaconda?”

Karen made a face.  “Celestia, I don’t need to hear about that.”

Celestia giggled.  “No, he has a snake!  His name is Clyde.  He has some bearded dragons too.”

Karen shifted in her chair.  “That’s lovely, Sis.  Who’s taking care of them?”

Celestia hung onto Karen’s shoulders.  “Uh, he says someone named Yvonne.”

Karen took a deep breath.  “Is that his girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“His ex.”

“Uh huh.  And she still has custody of his pets?”

Celestia nodded.

“Then she’s not an ex.  An ex would’ve poisoned them.”

“You think he still has a girlfriend?” Celestia gasped.

Karen shot another look at Izzy.  “I think they all do.  Probably a few kids they don’t know about too.”

Celestia leaped off Karen’s lap.  “Omigosh!  Slaa-ash!  Do you have any kids?”

Slash took a sip from a styrofoam cup and pulled his top hat down over his eyes.  “I don’t think so,” he muttered, throwing an arm around Celestia.

Izzy shook his head.  “You have a really cynical view of the world, don’t you?”

Karen snorted.  “I’m never wrong.”

Izzy took a drag from a cigarette.  “Actually, you are.”

“Is he still seeing Yvonne?”

“Hell if I know.  But I don’t have a girlfriend.  Mine got married.  And not to me.”

Karen looked down.  “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.  You write a song about a woman, and she dumps yer ass when you’re drying out.”

“Was it ‘Sweet Child of Mine?’”

He shook his head.  “I co-wrote the music on that, but no.  I wrote ‘Patience’ for her.”

Karen’s eyes widened in amazement.  “You wrote ‘Patience?’”

He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.  “Yeah.  And you’re wrong about something else too.  I’m not a dick 24/7, although you’ll never find that out.”  

Izzy leaned over his seat on the bus and looked down at Karen, still engrossed in her book.

“What do you do for fun on the road?” he asked her.

She didn’t look up.  “I’m having a love affair with my vibrator.”

“Oh, ha ha, smartass.”

She turned a page.  “You think I’m joking.  It’s Japanese and has different speeds.  I’ll never need a man again.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, but he could feel his eyes getting bigger.  Guess you’re not the prude I thought you were.

“Wow, that shut you up,” she chuckled, looking up at him.  “Are you bored on the road already?”

He nodded.  “I don’t get fucked up anymore, and that took up a lot of time, y’know.  I’m not scoring or getting drunk and now I have just…...time.”

“Yeah.  Well, I like to read, and being with my sisters.  Sometimes, I like to see the towns we’re in, get out of the hotel a little.  I like shooting pool.  I really like karaoke but I doubt if they have a lot of that here.  I’ve seen your itinerary and it wasn’t promising, they’ve got you out in Bumfuck most of the time.”  She knitted her eyebrows.  “You’re a guitarist, why don’t you play guitar?”

“That’s what I did last night.  I don’t know if I can do that every night.”

She cleared her throat.  “I’m sure there’s a Kasey in every town.  I doubt you’ll be bored for long.”

He shrugged.  “That does it for you?  Reading all the time?”

She looked up at him.  “I rather enjoy being bored.  There were many times I was on the verge of a heart attack, and I longed to be bored.”

“Steve kept you hopping, huh?”

She held his eyes for a long time, furious, then dropped her head.  “Yeah, he did.”  She looked up.  “Is that what you want, me to talk about him?  Fine.  I was in love, he wasn’t, end of story.”

He saw the pain etched in her face, and he let it drop.  He lit a cigarette and asked, “You’ve seen our itinerary?”

“Yeah.  The record company doesn't have a lot of faith in you, do they?”

He shook his head.  “They think we’ll be dead by the end of this week.”

“Those seem like good odds.  Where’s your record at?”

“At?”

“The top 100.”

“I dunno, 101 I guess.”

“Is it moving up?”

Izzy blinked. 

She sighed.  “Okay, how big was your record deal?”

“Two hundred fifty grand.”

She sucked air between her teeth.  “You know you have to recoup your costs, right?  I’m guessing you have a slew of lawyers and a bunch of court fees too.”

Silence.

“Izzy.  Have you talked to MTV?”

He shook his head.  “They won’t play our video.”

“You made a video?  For how much?”

“$75,000.  With Nigel Dick.”

“Ooh, you used a name.”

“That’s bad?”

“Yeah, cause he’s the only one who made money from it.”   She lit a cigarette.  “Izzy, are you aware you guys are broke?”

“We're getting a per diem.”

“You’re in the hole is what you are.  Who are you signed with?”

“Uh, Geffen.”

“Huh.  So just one man owns your ass.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re in debt to the record company?”

“Yeah, big time.  I mean, Hoss, if your album tanks, you could be sued.”

He exhaled.   “How do you know all this?”

“Because I paid attention when the suits showed up.  I knew there had to be a reason for a record exec to leave his wife and kids to hump it all the way out to BFE to talk to the band.”  She lit another cigarette.  “”Pyromania’ started moving up the charts, and the suits came more and more frequently.”

“Def Leppard are millionaires.  I mean, their music sucks, but they made a shitload of money off of it.”

“It took them awhile to make it, though.  They had to pay back Mercury, plus they used Marilyn Monroe’s image in the ‘Photograph’ video and it cost them a bundle.”  She shook her head.  “Your attorney fees will keep you in the red for a while.  Especially if you keep playing these podunk towns.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”  Karen took a drag.  “Well, maybe the record company is looking out for you.  They probably figure you can’t kill yourselves out here in the boonies.”

“IZZY!” Steven shrieked, slapping him on the back.  “Howya doin’, brother?”

Izzy smiled.  “I’m all right, man.  How are you?”

Steven was nearly hopping up and down in his dingy white hi tops.  “I’m so excited, man, we’ve got a gig tonight.  We’re gonna ROCK Canada, aren’t we, Izz?”

“You bet your ass, Stevie.”

“You!” Steven shouted to Karen.  “You, what’s your name?  Donna?”

“Karen.”

“Yeaah, Karen.  You really should fuck Izzy, girl!  He’s cool.  Like the coolest brother you could ever have.”

Izzy smirked.  “She says she doesn’t need a man, she got a device with different speeds.”

Steven looked horrified, then he grinned.  “Well, let him use it on you.”

Karen blinked, and Izzy cleared his throat.  “Dude, she’s not into that,” he said.

“Too bad.  Fuck, that girl I’m with is insane, man.  She ate that girl Kasey out last night for like an hour, man.  Then they sucked me off at the same time!  I’m living the dream, Izz.  I don’t want this tour to ever end.”  He hugged Izzy, then went back to his seat and snuggled up to a sleeping Absinthe.

Izzy raised an ornery eyebrow at Karen.  “So, different speeds, huh?”

“Absolutely not.  And you can’t borrow it either.”  Her eyes slid to Steven’s seat.  “Coke always make him like that?”

“Yeah, he takes a while to come down.  He’s pretty hyper to begin with.”

“Well, you should have a high energy set then.”

Izzy rested his arms on the top of the seat.  “You’ve seen us play.  What do you think?”

Karen fought a smile.  “You don’t suck.”

“Says the woman who traveled with Def Leppard.”

She gave him the middle finger.  “Keep it up, Hoss, and I’ll ram my Japanese precious where the sun don’t shine.”

Izzy puckered his lips and made obnoxious kissing noises, then said, “Promises, promises,” and flopped down in his seat.

[tenshinokorin]

Running Down a Dream #36 - Smoke

“Boy, you’re too young to be makin’ any kinda old man noise like that.” Cid Sophiar peered at Noct from underneath beetled brows and through a display of Coernix oil cans. “T'hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Noct said quickly, righting himself and stuffing his hand in his back pocket, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been digging his knuckles into his lower back in an attempt to ease the nagging ache that had grown gradually worse all day. He hadn’t realized he was making any noise, or at least not any noise that anyone could hear, back in the corner of the Hammerhead shop by the pots and pans and the conspicuously empty medicine shelf. “Just, y'know, stretching.”

“‘Just ya know stretching,’” Cid echoed back at him, and his gaze grew more piercing. Noct expected one of the oil cans to spring a leak any minute, just from being grazed by it. “I reckon it waddn’t yer stretching at'sent two of your fellers out on their own tonight without ya.”

Noct made a face before he could help it, and any recovery of his expression was lost as Cid launched into a rusty guffaw. “Smarts like anything bein left behind, don’t it, boy?”

Noct tried to shrug, but even that made him wince. His back was killing him. He’d twisted something getting off his chocobo last night, and sleeping jammed up in the camper hadn’t helped matters. He woke up hurting and it had gone from a dull ache all day to a full on-distraction, driving him off the camper sofa and into the shop in search of some painkillers. For some things–like old wounds and heartache–potions were no use at all. “No sense in everyone going,” he said, echoing Gladio’s words as he and Ignis had gone on the night’s hunt without him, leaving Prompto and Noct in Hammerhead and relative safety. “Cindy’s still fixing the car, Prompto’s waiting on that machine drill you’re repairing, and I–”

“And you got a busted back and don’t need to be bouncin’ around on no chocobo all over hell and half of Eos,” Cid finished for him, rather more colorfully and certainly more truthfully than Noct would have. He lifted his eyebrows and there was a bright, kindly sparkle under them that was usually hidden by his hat. His voice had a kind of steel-wool softness. “I heard tell you got hurt real bad when you was a lill'un,” he said. “Izzat it?”

“I–” Noct opened his mouth, closed it again, and nodded. “Came to get some meds.” He tilted his head at the shelf behind him, full of dusty medicine boxes with faded labels, first-aid kits, snap-glow sticks, and other gas-station mercies, but nothing for his back. “Looks like you don’t have anything for it, though.”

“Pshaw,” Cid said, momentarily distracting Noct (who had never even heard anyone actually say “pshaw” before) from his pain. “We don’t get anything good from the city out here. Gotta do for ourselfs. That brought-on stuff there’s just for tourists, anyway. Wouldn’t water a plant with it.” He rooted around in his jacket pocket and handed Noct an old Sweet Shiva chewing gum tin, the paint worn off the edges and the dented lid held on with a grease-stained rubber band. “Here. You just take that tonight and give it back to me in the mornin. From an old man with a busted back to a young one with one.”

“What’s the–” Noct began, but Cid had already started shuffling back to the garage and talked right over him.

“Just use it in the camper,” he called back, “Or Cindy’ll be all over my ass for givin’ y'any.”

“Find anything?” Prompto asked, not looking up from his phone. He was draped over the ugly plaid sofa in the camper, lip caught in his teeth as he tapped his furious way through his current King’s Knight level.

“People outside the Wall are weird,” Noct answered.

Prompto’s answer was a snort; he still did not look up. “What, did the guy in the store tell you to drink some whiskey and rub your back with a cactuar spleen or something?” This, at last, made him look up. “D'you think cactuars have spleens?”

Noct did not dignify this with an answer. “Cid gave me some of whatever he takes for his back,” he said, tossing the tin on the counter and wiping out a dusty cup with the hem of his shirt. “Probably some Duscae snake-oil, but right now I’d take anything.”

This got Prompto to actually put his phone down and get up, his brows furrowed with worry as his fingers kneaded the tight band of muscle at the small of Noct’s back. “Pretty bad today, huh?”

Noct grunted, bracing himself on the edge of the tiny sink.

“Sorry I’m not as good as this at Gladio,” Prompto continued, keeping at it with one hand while filling Noct’s cup with the other. “Here. Take whatever he gave you and go flop on the bed, I’ll see if I can help it any.”

“Nothing helps it,” Noct said dully. “It always comes back.”

“C'mon, don’t be like that. Here.” Prompto pushed the cup of water into Noct’s hand and reached for the tin. “Honestly, you’ve tried every kind of thing in Insomnia, maybe out in the boonies they’ve got something that’ll… actually…” Prompto trailed off, looking down into the tin.

“Don’t tell me it’s actually a cactaur spleen.” Noct laughed, but only a little. He wouldn’t put it past Cid to hand him a box full of chocobo doot, as some kind of provincial joke on the royal city-slickers.

In answer, Prompto wordlessly held out the open tin.

Noct looked at the contents. Then he looked at Prompto. And he looked in the tin again. “Well,” he said, after a considering moment. “It’s not a cactuar spleen.”

“Cactuars don’t have spleens they are plants,” Prompto said, with intense urgency, and snapped the tin shut. “And these are–”

“Cigarettes,” Noct said, easily.

Prompto’s eye roll made use of his entire body. “Nooooct. You know those are–”

“I know they are, and you know they are,” Noct said, taking the tin out of Prompto’s and removing one of the expertly-rolled smokes. “But if Gladio or Iggy asks, we had no idea.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna–”

Noct summoned a fire-magic flask in one hand, coaxing just enough energy from it to light up. “If it would help my back right now I would smoke a cactuar’s entire ass,” he said, and took a long drag. And then had a slightly longer coughing fit.

“You moron,” Prompto said, taking the joint from him. “Don’t tell me you don’t even know how to smoke.”

“ObcordeIgnohowdomoke,” Noct wheezed. He gasped, coughed, and smeared a hand over his streaming eyes. “But–” he interrupted himself with another tiny cough “–whatever we got passed around behind the gym in high school is a longass way from whatever that is.”

“Crown Prince smoking weed behind the gym,” Prompto said, in something like admiration. “You’re a disgrace and I love you.”

“Crappy weed, apparentl–Hey!” Noct’s head came up sharply as Prompto put the joint to his mouth. “That’s for me!”

“Yeah well, I got anxiety,” Prompto said, taking a long hit, and then reaching out to steady himself on the side of the camper before exhaling. “Shiiiiiiva! Wow. Yes.” He put his hand to his mouth for a cough of his own. “Anxiety. And Things. Sciatica. And tinnitus and …glaucoma probably and anything else that gets me more of… the hell is this stuff?” He concluded, in wonder.

“Painkillers,” Noct said, and took it back.

Prompto nodded, and then kept nodding, seeming to forget how to stop. “When are Gladio and Iggy getting back?”

“Probably not until morning.” Anyone else would think Noct was expressionless, but Prompto knew his eyebrows meant nothing but trouble. “Gladio said they’d probably just camp and meet us tomorrow to get the car back.”

Prompto’s eyes practically glowed. “Well, hell. Let’s kill some pain already.”

“So it’s like,” Prompto was upside down on the sofa, sculpting big swaths of space out of the air above his head. “When I met you? Like, everything went all upside down. And I didn’t know that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? So I had like, all my stuff one way. All my life. Only it was all upside down but I thought that was rightside up. So I’ve mostly gotten it together, right? The upside down way? Which is the right way? Only sometimes something falls on my head, you know, from before, and I gotta deal with it and figure out where to put it.”

The King of Lucis was one thing that was not upside down, but draped across the other side of the couch like a broken umbrella. The air of the camper was thick with smoke, and so were its occupants.

“That makes,” Noct said, in a kind of hushed wonder, “so much sense.”

“Yes,” Prompto said happily, and petted the threadbare carpet for a minute. “I think so too.”

“D'you ever think about… blue?” Noct asked.

“Woah,” Prompto said.

“I know,” Noct agreed, and they lay back for several minutes and thought about blue.

“It’s like,” Prompto said, “Light. Or a sky. Or a TV screen.”

“Right?”

“All the little…”

“Little things.”

“That’s so awesome. And we’re part of it.”

“All part of the blue,” Noct sighed, then, because there was nothing else he could say as regarding the profundity of blue, he reached down, pulled Prompto up by the front of his rucked up shirt, and kissed him.

Prompto, upside down (or possibly rightside up), sank into Noct’s arms and only pulled away to murmur, dreamily, “I wonder if Cid’s going to want any of that back.”

“I wonder lots of things,” Prompto rested his head on Noct’s elbow while his legs wandered down the wall in an attempt to find a floor. “About. What’s going to happen to us. If cactuars have spleens. If you really think my freckles are cute or if you just say that because I can’t help having 'em.”

“They’re really cute,” Noct said, grave.

“About Chocobos. I think about chocobos like, a lot, man.”

Chocobos had taken up several hours to discuss. As had feathers. Which, it had been decided, were just plain weird, like hair that grows its own hairs.

“And Blue,” Noct sighed.

“And I wonder where Gladdy and Iggy are.” The top of Prompto’s head bumped gently on the carpet, and he opened his eyes. “Oh. Their shoes are here, though. Hello Shoes. Do you know that you’re like fake feet made for our feet?”

“No,” Ignis’ shoes said, in a voice like a threatening volcano. “But I do know I can’t leave you alone for one. blasted. night.”

“Smells like a crematorium in here.” Gladio’s face swam into view above Prompto’s head. “I’d ask what the hell you two have been smoking, but I think I know.”

“Cid.” Noct said, attempting to look sober, and only making himself look more fucked-up. Or possibly that was his hair.

“You’ve been smoking Cid,” Ignis’ eyebrows rose dangerously.

“Nooo. For my back. Gave us–”

“Prompto does not have a bad back,” Ignis snapped, opening the tiny camper window and then fanning the door back and forth to try and ventilate the space.

“He’s got anxiety,” Noct explained.

“He’d gonna have a bad something,” Gladio threatened.

“Beard!” Prompto said, thrusting his wiggling fingers towards Gladio’s face. “Is it weird to have? Coming out of your face? Can I–”

“No,” Ignis insisted, purple silk handkerchief clapped to his face. “Whatever it is. We’re getting the car, and I don’t care if it’s coming a tsunami, we’re riding with the top down until you two delinquents air out.”

“More than could be said for this camper,” Gladio said, dodging Prompto’s fingers, grabbing him around both wrists, and swirling him to his feet. “C'mon, outta the camper.” He shoved Noct down the steps after, leaving them both looped over the lawn chairs outside as he went back in for Ignis.

“Well, they’re blitzed,” he announced.

“Yes.” Ignis was looking down at the tin. “And from what I expect was no great amount. There’s plenty left in here. I should return this to Cid.”

“Hm.”

They looked at the rolled smokes in the tin, and then they looked at each other.

“Just in case–” Ignis said, at the exact same time that Gladio began, “For Noct’s back–”

Ignis coughed politely and Gladio chuckled, and Ignis delicately plucked three joints out of the tin. “Yes, well,” he said, as they vanished into his jacket pocket. “As a pain medication…and even for Prompto’s anxiety, they can be quite effective. Nothing wrong with that. Under the proper supervision, of course.”

“Of course.” Gladio grinned. “Cos you’re so responsible. You’re gonna smoke all three of–”

“I am going to get out of this hotbox,” Ignis said, blinking very hard several times, “before I’m rendered incapable of operating a vehicle. Take these.” He thrust the tin into Gladio’s hand. “Give them back to Cid.”

“What, before you change your mind and put those back?”

“Before I’m tempted to keep them all,” Ignis answered, and staggered out in the sunlight while he still could.

[myao3stories]

A Dash of Inspiration

Fandom: Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia Pairing: Saber x Genny Rating: T Words: 996 Chapter: 3 out of 5

Read on Ao3, FF.net, or here.

16th of Pegastym, Mountain Village

           Fortuitously speaking, the village in the mountains was just large enough for merchants to come to it. That meant that Saber was able to procure a certain amount of sweets (nominally) fresh from one. It wasn’t apple pie, but trying to find some for sale out in the boonies wasn’t exactly an easy feat.

           Besides, they were more for her sake than his, if only to relieve a small amount of the stress from this journey. Saber began moseying to the forest, a gentle breeze rustling the trees.

           For her part, Genny went all out. There was a small glade just outside of town that was just perfect for this occasion. She borrowed a large blanket for the two to sit on, and convinced Boey to help start a fire for some tea, so the only thing missing was Saber.

           She did the best she could do to prepare for her date, but there wasn’t much advice she got from her friends. Mae and Celica weren’t the most versed in love, especially Mae who seemed to steer the conversation clear of that each time Genny brought it up. She figured it had something to do with Boey, since it usually did with Mae.

           The two Pegasi sisters weren’t very helpful either. Genny wasn’t sure of their pasts, but they both seemed to be carrying torches for people, but seemingly unable to act upon them. She made mental notes about them as a writing exercise more than dating, to be frank.

           Given the circumstances, the best Genny was able to pull off was psyching herself up in the mirror, putting on a tough face, and fluffing her hair to an extraordinary amount that morning.

           She was in the middle of another one of her psyche up sessions, kneeling on the blanket, mentally noting what she was going to say and do with determined fists, when her thoughts were interrupted and shunted out entirely. “You look lost in thought there, lass,” the voice said from behind.

           Startled, Genny, turned and jumped to her feet. “Oh, no, I was just, you know!” All her carefully laid plans had gone to waste in a moment. The ball kept rolling as the kettle over the fire was brought to a boil.

           The flustered girl grabbed a glove and took it off the fire, “You see, I was just making tea, for this…” the word “date” was caught in her throat, her face flushing in equal amounts of embarrassment for her actions and the idea of the date itself.

           “It’s just you and me out here, there’s no need to act so jittery.” Saber’s words were meant to calm her nerves, but they really had the opposite effect on her. He set the bag of sweets down and grabbed the tea pot Genny had brought. “You’re acting more nervous than a guy in his first battle.”

           To Genny, this was a battle of sorts. And, ironically, her first battle, while against Terrors, wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as this. Doing her best to calm her nerves, Genny held the two tea cups while Saber poured them full. It wasn’t an entirely simple process, her hands visibly shaking, thankfully not enough to spill the piping hot liquid.

           For his part, Saber politely pretended not to notice how she was, and tried to steer the conversation to something else. He handed Genny the bag of sweets and said, “You know, I have a little sister, maybe just a bit older than you. Ain’t seen her in forever, but you’ve got that younger sibling quality to you.”

           Genny froze mid-sip, “I’ve got… what?”

           Saber leaned back against the blanket, putting his arms behind his head. “You’ve got that quality that makes a guy wanna protect you and see you grow up happy, it’s what lots of mercenaries I’ve known look for in younger girls.”

           “So, is that how you see me, then? Just a little sister?” Genny couldn’t hide how distraught that made her feel in her voice.

           “Hmm… Well, not sure about you,” Saber glanced up at her. “For starters, you might give that impression off when someone first sees you, but then you go on and stare down Terrors without batting an eye. Hell, half the time it feels like you’re protecting me when I get so much as a scratch.”

           “Ah… phew,” Genny let out a sigh of relief. “You know, Saber, most girls don’t actually like being compared to being little sisters.” Though, given how much Saber hangs out with Celica, Genny understood how someone could come to that conclusion.

           Saber sat up, “Well, hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything.”

           “It’s alright, I think I understand you a bit more now,” Genny closed her eyes, nodding. “It just means you get to make it up to me when we stop somewhere nice, that’s all.” She held a self-satisfied smile on her face.

           “Why do I get the feeling you just want me to treat you more?”

           “These cookies are very good, you’ve got incredible tastes,” Genny said, wiping her mouth and avoiding the question. “You should try some!”

           Saber let out a deep breath as he went back down. “I think I’d rather take a nap at this point,” and closed his eyes.

           “Shouldn’t you want something soft to rest your head on?” Genny scooted closer. Many of the romance novels she read spoke about guys wanting to rest their heads in a girl’s lap, so maybe…

           Genny didn’t get an answer, Saber was fast asleep. Years of mercenary work led to him being able to sleep at the drop of a hat. Great for work and travel, but not for a maiden’s heart.

           While she felt that she made some progress with him today, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he was that quick to relax. Clearly, she needed to take extra measures to win his heart faster than before.