Oh, how I hate titling stuff... I should've just used my word file name for this story and gone with "whee gippalai" for the title.
My virgin eyes! Otherwise known as WARNINGS: Boys liking other boys. And expressing it. Definite overanalyzing. Some angst, I guess. My Gippal is relatively perverted and likes pushing people's buttons. My Baralai pretends to be surprised by this. (He's not fooling anyone.)
Series/sequel: Given the first bit of dialogue and certain familiar themes, it may look like a sequel/companion piece to The Telltale Head Scratch. But it's not. I say this, most importantly, because it's the truth, and also because that fic is both ancient, and godawful. I'm very ashamed of it, actually. Consider this my attempt at redemption.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gippal, Baralai or anything from the Final Fantasy X2 world, because if I did, I would have made it so you could throw a sack over Gippal, kidnap him from Djose and keep him as a love slave, and no matter how much treasure anyone digs up in the desert, it's never enough to cover the ransom. Obviously, I don't make any money for writing this. But I should, because the love slave idea is genius.
As always, if you've seen something that bears a strong resemblance to this story, I will gladly offer a link to the pen name and/or fic. I have not, and will not rip off another author's work, but that doesn't mean someone hasn't already beaten me to this! :) I know I'm not the first (nowhere near) to use the setting, or basic idea(s) but hopefully I've put my own spin on it.
I did a little bit of reading and found: Of a Priest and an Al Bhed by Micayasha. I noticed, amongst the awesomeness, at least one piece with some similar ideas/themes.
TheRyRy and Ikonopeiston are two of the most wonderful FF X-2 authors 'round here. I highly recommend their work as well, just because it's great.
Gippal had this strange habit of asking questions he already knew the answer to. It was something Baralai had noticed almost right after they met. That's right, he'd been doing it that long. Probably even longer.
And after all this time, Baralai still hadn't the slightest idea why. No, that wasn't true. He had an idea why. Two ideas why. Three, four, five ideas why. He just couldn't quite narrow it down to one.
Baralai had a few strange habits of his own. One of which was to answer a single question so many different ways he'd lose count, but to never be completely convinced that even one of them was the right way.
This, though, the praetor concluded, was definitely not right, and he doubted it ever would be. No matter how many ways he tried to look at it.
It was precisely why he'd spent so long looking away from it. But now he couldn't even do that. Not with Gippal right in front of him, in his quarters, staring him down. Doing that...thing he did, where he put his hands on his hips, stood on his left foot, and propped the bottom of his right foot against his left knee. It really was something how he could stay like that, for as long as he usually did, and to keep steady, too.
So unbalanced, so unguarded...
"So, Baralai..." the Al Bhed drawled, pausing just long enough to lick his lips, "gettin' friendly with other guys: yea or nay, around here?"
Leave it to Gippal to come all the way to Bevelle to ask something like that.
A stone-faced Baralai responded, "That would be a nay, Gippal."
"But you're like, the big cheese, here in Praetorland, right?"
A bemused, thus, slightly less expressionless Baralai questioned, "The big cheese?"
Gippal nodded.
"In...Praetorland?" Baralai repeated the word (it was no such thing, but what else could he call it?) slowly, carefully, to make sure he wasn't misquoting his friend. He shook his head and let a quiet chuckle escape. "That's absolutely ridiculous."
"Nuh uh."
"Do you know what a praetor is?"
"It's a leader, a representative," Gippal responded. He seemed mildly annoyed over the doubtful manner in which the question had been asked. Planting his right foot firmly on the ground, but making a point to keep his hands on his hips, he added, "I know what a praetor is."
"Right. So you're calling me a representative of Representativeland...?"
"Aren't you?"
"That's not the point."
"Then...?"
"Praetorland," Baralai muttered, with a snort. "You make it sound like a theme park."
Gippal's eye twinkled and he grinned. "Yes."
"No." Baralai brought his fingertips to either side of his head and massaged his temples. He still couldn't grasp how it was one person could bring him both so much happiness and so much grief. Simultaneously, no less.
Gippal, unfazed by the gesture - the silent statement that he was, yet again, the source of great headaches - continued, "Come on now. Suck it up. You're the main attraction here, and-"
"Gippal."
"And," the blond allowed himself a quick pause,"from what I can tell, one hell of a ride."
"Gippal."
The Machine Faction leader gave an unapologetic shrug. Hearing his name spoken with such disapproval wasn't exactly new to him.
Baralai took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to mentally recover from the remark. In that even, all-business tone of his, he stated, "It's true that New Yevon's official stance is against homosexuality. But no one likes to talk about it. It's something of a gray area, especially now that the focus is on uniting all of Spira, not excluding anyone..."
Gippal's left eyebrow shot upwards, as the corners of his mouth turned downwards.
Yevon, discriminate? Perish the thought.
Though he understood his friend's expression completely, Baralai less-than-sympathetically reminded him, "Intolerance is a part of life, Gippal. You of all people should know that."
He snorted. "Tell me about it. Oh, hey, on that note-"
"What now?"
"How 'bout the Al Bhed?"
"New Yevon welcomes any and all that wish to be a part of our organization."
Gippal shook his head. "Not what I meant."
"Then...?"
"Gettin' friendly with an Al Bhed-"
"Yea or nay?" Baralai wondered, a bit mockingly.
"Bingo."
"Sexual relations with anyone, outside the institution of marriage, is frowned upon. Ethnicity is no longer relevant." The praetor cleared his throat, successfully warding off any impending interruptions, or dirty looks. "No longer as relevant."
"So..." Gippal stretched the word, "gettin' friendly with an Al Bhed guy..."
Baralai stared straight forward, determined not to indulge Gippal. He'd finish, sooner or later (hopefully sooner) once he realized he was not only going to have to come to his own conclusion, but state it, too.
Oh, what a conclusion it was.
"...Probably enough to get a guy permanently banned from Praetorland, right?"
Which guy? Baralai couldn't help but think.
Now it was time for him to ask a question of his own. The one that had always nagged at him, but never persisted quite as much at it did now. He couldn't help but be aware of how tired he sounded, when the words finally came out. "Why do you always do this?"
"Always do what?"
"Ask me questions you already know the answer to."
Gippal brought his hand to the back of his head, and admitted, "I dunno. Never really thought about it before."
"You're kidding," marveled Baralai. It was strange how Gippal always sounded like he truly believed himself when he was saying the most unbelievable things.
"Guess it's just one of my quirks," Gippal decided, self-satisfied, and flashed that million gil smile of his.
"I'd hardly call it a quirk. Bad habit is more like it." Baralai rolled his eyes.
Gippal frowned and crossed his arms. "Well, you know what they say: old habits die hard."
"If at all."
"Maybe...maybe I only think I know the answer until I ask you," Gippal insisted, somewhat tauntingly. In a softer, more subdued tone, he murmured, "...Maybe I'm not sure until I hear it from you."
"But what if I'm wrong?"
"Then we're both wrong together."
"What does that even mean?"
"I dunno. But being wrong together sure beats doing it alone." Gippal chuckled. "Sometimes I think it even beats being right alone."
There it was. What he'd been looking for the entire time. Those choices and possibilities and solutions and ideas, they didn't matter anymore. They never had. The answer had been there all along. Baralai just hadn't been looking in the right place. Well, technically, he had been looking in the right place. He just hadn't realized it until now, that what he wanted wasn't there, because he wasn't looking for the right answer. He never had been.
It all made so much more sense now...kind of. Maybe it just didn't matter as much that it didn't all make perfect sense. Any sense, really.
"What...? What'd I say...?" Gippal asked, his voice monotone. It was a sure sign that he was genuinely worried. It was the only time he sounded so...empty. He waved a hand in front of glazed over, yet still fiery, honey-brown eyes.
Baralai didn't answer. Not in words, anyway. He reached out to Gippal, and sort of grabbed him by the collar.
Gippal just stood, dumbly, as Baralai's fingertips began to dig into his collarbone, threatening to wrinkle his shirt.
No sooner had Baralai's slender hands tightened around the faded, well worn cloth had he let go - loosened up, but just so. Before he could decide if he was hurting Gippal, digging too deep, he was moving. Forward. Toward Gippal.
It wasn't until their lips were pressed together did Baralai fully surrender Gippal's shirt from his grasp. His hands, now completely open, remained firmly against the blond's chest.
The room seemed to spin, to swirl, until they both closed their eyes - or, in Gippal's case, his eye - and surrendered to the moment. A blind, aimless mix of lips, tongues, teeth and confusion. Aggression, partly as a play for dominance, and partly to mask apprehension. It was both hesitant and forceful at the same time. A muffled sigh here, a groan that never quite made it from the back of the throat there.
Gippal had a solid grip on Baralai's shoulders by now; the warmth, strength and anxious excitement of his touch could be felt even through the praetor's thick robes.
The kiss itself ended simply, with both men closing their mouths at the same time, but not breaking contact. Lips still moist with each other's saliva, they stood there, almost motionless. Their noses, cheeks, eyelashes just brushing against one another's. Their breathing was felt, not heard. Warm, even against such flushed skin, only to be gone, with each inhale.
Then it was all over.
While it was strange that Baralai had been the one to pull Gippal in, stranger still, was that it would be Gippal to push Baralai away. He'd tightened his already firm hold on Baralai's shoulders for just a moment, giving a quick squeeze, before sending him back a couple of steps with an even quicker shove.
Was Baralai being rejected? Was Gippal rejecting him? After the way he always talked? Was that all it was? Talk? Or was Gippal just...taking a step back...without actually taking a step at all?
The two stared at one another, each licking his lips, without realizing he was doing it. Subconsciously wiping away what had just happened, but ingesting it - making a part of himself - at the same time.
Then Gippal's hands - the very hands that had just pushed Baralai away - were brought up to the top of his head. He didn't run his fingers through his hair like he usually did - buried them in it was more like it. "This mean what I think it means...?" he asked, breathless.
Baralai just smirked.
That was Gippal, always asking questions he already knew the answer to.
A/N: I hope Baralai wasn't too OOC. I kinda liked having him make the first actual move. I toned it down from how I originally wrote it up, when I couldn't even sell myself on the way I'd portrayed our pretty praetor. XD
I also fail at setting the scene, I know.
Theme parks must exist in Spira. Rikku uses the words herself, in Zanarkand. So I hope nobody thinks of that as breaking the fourth wall.
Reviewers will be given free passes to Praetorland. There are no height restrictions for riding Baralai. You just have to get past Gippal first. :)