(A/N: A rather random piece of work, for amidoh on LJ. First line belongs to Econoline Crush.)
Well I'm not fakin' our last goodbye (I'm too elegant to lie).
Folon always – always – snapped awake. No matter if he'd passed out from blood loss, been forced into a drug-induced sleep, or simply let himself drift off, he always woke with a start. Granted, after a quick evaluation of the surroundings, he usually slipped back into the state expected of one who'd been drugged or beaten or just woken up, but if the setting was not favourable, he would force himself awake.
Such was presently the case.
But he could recognize Skeed from where he was at the moment, and that was probably what kept him from being set off entirely.
Lifting a wrist to indicate the shackle chaining him to the wall, he asked Skeed darkly, "So, what are these for?"
"Restraining you, obviously." The redhead replied sternly, standing just about an arm's length away from the wall Folon was chained to. The blue-skin, as much of an interest as he was, made him nervous.
Folon's grin was wicked. "You really think they can hold me back? If I want something?"
"I think they'll serve." Skeed snapped, drawing his gun in one swift motion and pressing the barrel to Folon's temple, "I'll shoot you otherwise."
Folon's eyes narrowed and he turned his head to glare fiercely at Skeed; the redheaded man could only see one of Folon's eyes for the barrel of the gun pointing into the other, "Fuck you." No fear whatsoever.
"No." Skeed growled, knowing he was pushing but not giving a damn; he would not be spoken to in that manner, "Fuck you."
The chains clanked loudly as Folon lurched forward in an attempt to bite him, ignorant of the gun just barely scraping down his cheek as Skeed took two hurried steps backwards, letting the gun fall to his side. His eyes glittered with malice when he spoke. "Blue-skin." He watched Folon strain forward in the chains and felt himself smirk.
"Don't." The eighteen-year-old snarled, lunging forward even though his shoulders were already nearly inverted, his wrists beginning to be rubbed raw.
"Blue-skin." Skeed repeated.
"Don't!" Folon yelled, heaving himself forward again and eliciting a loud crack from his spine.
"It's only alright when I'm touching you, isn't it?" Skeed moved forward to grip him by the neck and kissed him roughly. Folon pushed into it; Skeed pushed back, stepping forward and forward and forward until Folon was flat against the wall behind him.
Skeed, in charge, broke the kiss; Folon let himself hang a bit limp. Skeed put a hand on Folon's cheek, saying with satisfaction, "My blue-skin."
Folon snapped at his hand, glowering, "I hate you."
"Not nearly as much as I hate you, street filth." Skeed returned, raising his gun again and pressing it into Folon's stomach as warning. "Fucking dog."
"Where are they sending you this time?" Folon changed the subject abruptly, figuring Skeed was just wasting time (as he was wont to do when they had situations).
"It's not me, idiot. It's you." Skeed replied shortly, jutting the gun upwards, "You're being banned from the city. You'll be on permanent roving missions."
"They can't." Folon was confident; he was Giacomo's charge, personal assassin of the Emperor. He wasn't discardable just like that – they couldn't afford to let him go free.
"They can make it so you're under orders to be shot dead if you're within the city and more than five feet away from Giacomo." It had been an arm's length, before. Skeed had changed the draft before it was finalised, and the detail was one so small in a matter so complicated that no one bothered to double check it. Giacomo was livid, Ayme was displeased, half the soldiers were pleased with the idea that the lunatic was being evicted and the other half was demanding why they didn't just get rid of the thing entirely, since he'd killed so many of their fellows.
Really, it was a blessing that Folon had gotten this far without knowing how much shit had hit the fan on his behalf. Like as not, he would've gone on a rampage.
The sound of restrictions that severe (five fucking feet!?) made Folon's expression darken considerably. "I'll kill them first."
"That's why." Skeed sighed slightly, pulling his gun into a less-threatening position, "You're too dangerous."
Folon smirked. "Don't you know it."
"Dangerous, but beautiful." Skeed kissed him again, biting on his lower lip.
Folon heaved his arms forward until the chains actually broke from the wall; Skeed, startled, attempted to back away but the younger boy moved too swiftly and reserved their positions so Skeed was pressed back against the wall. The chains were cold on the back of his neck, and when Folon crossed his still-shackled arms, they started to cut off his air.
"Do you think, Skeed, if I killed you, they would reconsider?" Folon queried pleasantly, his head cocked to one side even as there was an undertone of venom to his words, "I'll kill all of them, if they try to do that to me. Giacomo said. He said it was okay." There was some note of childishness in that utterance, in the complete faith Folon had in Giacomo – the commander was the only person the blue-skin had been able to trust, at first, and that number had hardly increased over time. To Folon, trustworthy people were the only ones he'd put himself in harm's way to keep alive -- and there were only two and a half people he'd do that for.
Skeed shook his head, waiting until Folon loosed the pressure around his neck before speaking. "It won't matter. It might make them shoot you on the spot instead of sending you away."
Folon's expression became predatory and he moved flush up against Skeed, pressing his teeth to the other man's neck, "We'd both be in the same place, then."
"Hell is nothing like the skies, Folon." Skeed said with little inflection.
Folon smirked against his skin and replied lowly. "Hell's just like home."