A drabble. I seem to be writing them a lot lately. Dedicated to...that person who wrote Hands Are Shaking Cold, and the one what wrote Surgeon General's Warning. I'm a dozy twit because it's late, but they're both terrific fics, and the -only- reason that I first freely admitted that Cloud was as bent as a nine-bob note.
A crash echoed through the building that the Restoration Committee called home, bringing Leon's head sharply up. Yuffie was annoying Cid at Merlin's house, and Tifa and Aeris were out shopping, which left...
Cursing, he jumped up from the table and darted down hallways, barrelling into Cloud's room. He found the man on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and clutching at a bleeding wrist. Apparently, he had just put his fist through the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door.
"Shit." Moving to where Cloud knelt, he helped the smaller man to his feet, leading him to the bathroom. "Keep pressure on the wound," he instructed him, as he soaked a flannel in cold water and began to mop away the blood.
"It's not that bad." The blonde sounded angry, but then, that was fairly normal for him. Ignoring him, Leon assessed the damage. It wasn't so bad, really, just a few shallow scratches across the knuckles and a slightly deeper one down the wrist, but for small wounds, they had bled a lot. He removed a bottle of potion from his belt and uncapped it with his teeth, pouring a generous amount onto the other man's hand and wrist. Cloud hissed, arm snatching backward reflexively. Potions stung like a bitch on raw wounds, which was why they were generally drunk, not poured on neat. Guiding Cloud back into the bedroom, he sat down on the bed next to him, not quite close enough to crowd, and unfurled a bandage from another one of his many pockets.
"Wanna tell me why you went a round against a mirror?"
"I saw him." The other man's blue eyes were haunted. Leon didn't need to ask who "he" was.
"Where?"
"In the mirror. I just...saw him. At the corner of my eye. I punched before I realised." A little shrug indicated that the explanation was over.
"Cloud, you know he can't get in here." The brunette's voice was patient, reasonable. "This place is thick with Merlin's magic. Not to mention Tron's security measures."
"Don't you think I know that?!" The blonde tried to pull his hand away, angry. When Leon didn't relinquish his grip, he took a deep breath. "I know. I know he can't get to me. But I still saw him."
"Listen. I know it's hard, but you can't let your demons get to you. Look at you. When was the last time you slept?"
"When I sleep is none of your concern!" Again, he tried to take possession of his own hand. "And besides, who are you to lecture me on demons, Squall?" The words were hissed.
Leon stilled for a moment, eyes looking anywhere but at those accusing blue eyes. He vaguely realised that he'd finished bandaging Cloud's hand already, but hadn't released it.
"That's different."
"The hell it is! You're just afraid as-" He choked on the end of that sentence, still unwilling to admit his own fear. They both fell silent then, both gazes falling on their hands, neither really seeing. Then Leon's fingers squeezed gently, and Cloud brought his undamaged hand to drag through golden-blonde spikes.
"Sorry." He sounded as though the word cost him. "I-I know I'm an asshole lately, but-"
"What's new?" The brunette gave him a little smirk, to show he was joking, and the other man shoved at his shoulder.
"-But then that makes two of us," he retorted with a scowl that was entirely bereft of real anger. They paused then, lapsing into companionable silence. Leon subconsciously traced little circles over Cloud's bandaged palm, then, realising what he was doing, made himself stop and pull back. He rose to his feet, finally letting go of the other man's arm.
"I should be goi-"
Fingers curled around his, capturing and pulling lightly. He turned back to face the blonde.
"Thanks."
A little half-smile, blue eyes finally looking up at him without that shadow across them. And then, Leon found himself descending once more, other hand curving around a cool, pale cheek as he captured that soft-looking mouth with his own. Cloud made a startled noise, and he pulled back, hesitant, unsure. When the blonde didn't hit him or swear, he tried again, easily pushing the smaller man backwards onto the bed and coaxing, teasing any kind of response from him, the pressure of lips against lips a silent question, is this right? Is this ok?
Then, after a brief eternity in which Leon swore to himself that he'd pull back any second now, any minute, the mouth against his trembled, parted, returned his tender little kisses eagerly. He brought Cloud's wrist up above their heads, pinning it against the pillow, and the smaller man's tongue brushed against his lower lip. Without even hesitating, he opened his mouth, his own tongue flicking out to taste. A little noise of longing, though he could never be sure who it came from, and he felt Cloud's legs rise either side of him, effectively encouraging him closer. His hand slid down the other man's side, curved around and pushed fabric up and out of the way until his fingertips were brushing against the naked skin of Cloud's back, bare inches above that ridiculously tempting ass. His nails flexed lightly, producing a breathless little noise that did strange things to his body, and he pulled away from Cloud's mouth, angling his head to nip at the pale, exposed skin of the other's throat. Another noise, this one louder, less restrained. Unable to keep the smug smirk from his lips, he rolled his hips against the smaller man's, feeling him writhe in response.
"Cloud! Leon! We're home!"
Leon found himself being dumped onto the floor faster than his brain could process, his head coming into unpleasant contact with the corner of Cloud's dresser. Extremely peeved, he shot the blonde a glare.
"Asshole," he muttered.
The other man looked entirely unrepentant, instead, he grinned down at the brunette.
"Your fault for jumping me in the first place."
"Oh yeah, cause you put up such a fight."
They scowled at each other, then Leon suddenly gave the blue-eyed man a smirk.
"I'd love to see how you explain that to Tifa," he gloated, gesturing towards the other's neck. Flushing, Cloud grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.
"Shut up."
I realise that I make Cloud say "Shut up" a lot. Heh. Anyway. Dead. Move along please.
