A/N: Hi, all! It's been a while, and I'm back into the FFX-2 fandom. Remember how once on my profile I said that I didn't really groove on FF yaoi? Yeah, that was a lie. I actually freaking love gippalai at the moment, and I went to the Aquarium the other day while visiting my friend (in Baltimore, so this should be mostly accurate) and was struck with inspiration. I really wanted them to go swimming with the dolphins, but that was too improbable even for me.
Anyway, enjoy this. It's dedicated to Wildejoy/Micayasha, who recently had a birthday. Very AU.
Baralai Kinns knew as well as any starving poet that it was impossible to force yourself to write. You couldn't create with something on your mind. You simply had to pace back and forth and hope it went away before your deadline.
Sometimes, it wouldn't go away. Sometimes—as any writer learns over the course of his or her career—you had to do something about it to make it go away.
Sometimes it wasn't that simple. Not for Baralai.
Sometimes, or possibly three times a week, that…issue would show up in his apartment with a bottle of Jack Daniels and the first season of Heroes. Baralai's problem could be out the door in five to nothing flat, but, you know, he really wanted to know what happened to Hiro in the next episode. Though a master at writing them, Baralai hated cliffhangers.
Damn his easily swayed work ethic.
You can imagine his displeasure at being interrupted from the first flash of inspiration he'd had in months, but you can imagine even more his frustration when he realized that the offender wasn't appeasing him with offerings of booze and a night of watching TV shows and accidentally-on-purpose falling asleep on his shoulder.
Instead, this particular blonde menace was looking gleeful and holding a camera.
Baralai shoved his chair away from the desk and stood up, appraising the mad man who stood in his doorway now looking almost maniacal with excitement. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair—bleached almost white, a contrast to his tanned skin. Gippal Rhodes. They'd gone to high school together, though Gippal was a year below. Oh, Baralai'd known about him. Everyone did. Everyone. A member of the computer club and homecoming prince in his junior year, he was charming, sweet, and…gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.
And even though they exchanged friendly smiles in the hallway, (well, Gippal smiled. Baralai rocked the standing and gaping with awe scene.) and even though Gippal had come out as bisexual in the Gay-Straight Alliance Baralai had run, it just wasn't going to work, ever.
So to his utmost surprise, Baralai got into John Hopkins university, and went to pursue a career in English literature—writing, more specifically. He had a few boyfriends, nothing serious, landed a journalism gig, and scraped up enough money for a small apartment. He also worked hard on not getting shot, a very noble goal.
In short, life was good.
Until that damn voicemail.
Baralai had been in bed, resolutely ignoring the obnoxious sound of his Rick Astley ringtone, grumbling in the back of his throat as he was Rickrolled three more times, and 80s pop gave way to the possibly more annoying beep of his voicemail. Gnashing his teeth, Baralai grabbed the phone, angrily punching in the keys to reach his messages. He recited along with the computerized voice and quieted to listen.
The speaker sounded more then a little frantic, talking from a crowded area. "Hey, man, Baralai, it's me. Uh, Gippal. Rhodes. We went to high school together. Look, I just transferred from Cambridge, and I'm here in Baltimore, and Paine gave me your number. You know, Paine, from that group you ran? Um, I was just wondering if I could maybe get like, a ride or something? And if you could, you know, pretend you knew me for a few days, just until I get my feet on the ground? Uh, well, call me back, I'll be here all night. Oh, I'm at the airport."
Baralai's eyes had widened almost comically, marveling at the akwardness of Gippal's phone skills, and the possibilities circling his mind. He called back instantly, and found himself driving to B.W.I. Airport at two in the morning.
In the end, Baralai didn't just pretend to be friends with Gippal. They hung out together for lack of company, eventually enjoying each others company. They were friends. They had settled into a nice routine of getting smashed and playing drinking games with the TV shows Gippal brought over, before becoming too engrossed in Heroes to even get mildly buzzed.
Sounds great, right?
Wrong.
Because 19 year old Gippal was just as sexy as 17 year old Gippal. If not more so. Only this time? Baralai didn't have a crush. This was all. Out. Love.
"Hello? Earth to Baralai, calling 'lai," Gippal waved his hands in front of Baralai's face. "Are the wheels still turning in there, man?"
"Shut up. I was reminiscing. Dramatically, too. You didn't have to interrupt me," Baralai hoisted himself up on the desk, and glared at Gippal. "I really need a drink. Tell me that that is a secret magical camera that summons booze and maybe crackers?"
"No, it's mostly just a regular camera. But I did fight off three determined hookers and a fugitive from the law with this thing."
"Crazy."
"Yeah, I thought so." Gippal breezed through the doorway and opened Baralai's fridge. "You got anything to eat?"
"I meant you, actually," Baralai joined him at the mini-fridge and nudged him out of the way. "Slightly moldy cheese, or that pizza we ordered Wednesday. I say go for the cheese. I might get lucky, you could be out of my hair for a while."
"Yeah, hospitals do that to you. And don't lie, you'd be there every second you were allowed, I know you," he closed the fridge and grinned. "But tonight, we are not watching Heroes. Or killing ourselves with more then slightly molded cheese. We, that's you and I, Baralai, we, are going out."
"Out? Gippal, in case you haven't noticed, it's 11. I never figured you for the club scene, but whatever floats your boat, man. I'm not going with, though." Baralai was becoming increasingly disgruntled by the closeness of Gippal's body. The blonde laughed.
"No, I'm taking you somewhere special. 'Lai," At this, Gippal placed his hands on Baralai's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "You are never going to unblock your fabulous writing abilities unless you learn to lighten up."
"Ff…Fine. God, fine. Let's hit the town. We're we going?" Baralai slipped from Gippal's grasp on his shoulders and grabbed a jacket, slipping it on over the tank top he wore. Gippal snapped a picture and laughed at his friend's frustrated expression.
"That's a keeper."
--
"The Aquarium?"
"Yes."
"At 11?"
"It would seem so."
"Gippal. You're an idiot," Baralai punched him in the arm, staring up at the building with resignation.
"No, actually, I'm fantastic. A super genius, it looks like. I know people on the inside, come on," Gippal started to walk towards the entrance and reached back for Baralai's hand. "You and me are going to have ourselves a secret fish adventure.
Baralai snorted, but quickened his pace, not letting go of the fingers looped through his. It would have been too much to ask him to stop blushing, but thankfully, Gippal didn't notice.
Gippal bypassed the obvious entrance, and pulled out a key that opened a small custodial door. Against his will, Baralai gasped. The aquarium, though he hadn't been for many years, looked different with the lights out. He tightened his fingers around Gippal's hand, not entirely involuntarily. Gippal matched them with equal force and laughed.
"It's cool, isn't it? My friend works here, I've been a couple times," he reached out and ruffled Baralai's hair with his free hand, before dragging him enthusiastically to the main tank, full of sting rays and sea turtles.
"Wow. I didn't know they kept the tanks lit when the place is closed," Baralai ran his fingers along the railing and leaned over, his eyes following a particularly huge ray as it crept along the floor of the tank.
"Yeah, they do sometimes. I hoped they would tonight," Gippal's tone was softer, almost reverent. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Yeah…"
Gippal tugged on Baralai's hand, dragging the reluctant writer along. "Geez, 'Lai, the 'rays are nothing, how long's it's been since you've seen this place?" they climbed the frozen escalator upwards, while Baralai pondered his answer.
"Five years? I think I was a sophomore when I went last. Maybe four years,"
"Geez,"
"Yeah. What's next?" Baralai peaked over the top railing again, watching the sting rays far below. "Glow fish are one floor up. You seriously need to see them. Other then that, just, fish, I guess. Some of them are better during the day," Gippal answered.
Baralai nodded. He followed Gippal through the aquarium, marveling at the various tanks. It had been a while. Maybe too long.
The glow fish made him almost gasp for air. His breath was taken away instantly. The way they darted back and forth in the tank made it look like a glowstick rave—all colors and emotion and lights. Gippal, Baralai noticed, was almost in a trance. It hit him all at once just how much his friend—his best friend, actually—understood him. He allowed his thumb to break character and trace Gippal's knuckles, reveling in the softness of his skin. They'd held hands all night, and Baralai was daring to hope.
Two floors up, and as they climbed the stairs to the rainforest area, a replication of South American rainforests, they were both still dazed. Baralai emerged first into the 'forest', stopping and staring all around himself with awe. His breath caught in his throat.
Gippal was the first to break the silence. "The stars. You can see the stars through the windows up there." The stared upwards, and he redoubled his grip on Baralai's hand and led him slowly through the trees, sitting him down on a bench in a small cul-de-sac. They leaned closer to each other out of habit, and looked around with wide eyes.
"It's like the planetarium we went to in elementary school," Baralai said. "Only better. There's much more life here, look, that's a frog." He paused. "Gippal. Why did you bring me here?"
"Because," Gippal dropped his suave mask and reached up tentatively. Baralai closed his eyes over the feel of callused fingers running up and down his face. "I wanted you to see it with me." He drew closer, cupping Baralai's face with his hands. "No one else would have understood it like you would. And…" he leaned downward and pressed his forehead to 'Lai's. Baralai noticed dimly that his hands were shaking, and then all thought was erased when Gippal's mouth pressed against his. His hands reached around Gippal's neck, grabbing the fabric behind as they deepened the kiss.
It was centuries, millennia, seconds passed when Gippal pulled away. "Because I wanted to do that, and I needed to make sure you knew I meant it. I didn't want it to be on your couch at home with us both drunk off our asses." Baralai rested his head against his shoulder as Gippal's arms came up around him.
"Bastard. How long?" He asked.
"Since I came to Baltimore. You?"
"Since sophomore year, when I met you. Jerk, you could have told me," Baralai stood on his tip toes and brushed his lips against Gippal's cheek. "We could have had this earlier." Gippal laughed, and Baralai felt the vibrations through his chest.
"I don't know. I'm pretty content with right now."