A/N: This story started out as a mental tumbleweed, then developed into a vehicle for one of my headcanons. Well, maybe not so much a headcanon as I am mostly interested in the uncertainty rather than any actual connection.
This can be read as part of the Convictions timeline, but it functions just fine as a standalone ficlet.
Set post-game. Spoilers for Don Whitehorse's storyline.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
In some ways, Yuri was entirely predictable. Show him someone who was suffering, and he would do whatever he could to help, no matter how ill-advised his course of action. Present him with an injustice, and he would give his all to set things right. He faced challenges head on, shied away from accepting praise for his achievements, and refused to hide when confronted about the more questionable choices he'd made. He was stubborn as a mule and always ready for a fight.
Throw sex into the mix and that predictability disappeared.
Yuri could be eager, playful, even seductive. He could be fuming one minute and turned on the next, or he might try to push the anger back and let it eke out in growls and curses, haste and roughness. Sometimes, Yuri could be comforting. On rare occasions, Flynn caught glimpses of how vulnerable Yuri could be, how needy. It was hard to gauge what sort of mood Yuri would be in when they found time alone together or what sort of mood he would end up in before they parted.
Flynn never really knew how long Yuri would stay afterwards, either. Sometimes, he would be filled with the same boundless energy that left him beaming after a fight, and he would be gone immediately to burn it off. Other times, he would stalk out wordlessly, angry about some argument they'd had or preoccupied over a problem he hadn't spoken to Flynn about. Some nights, they talked, and some nights, Yuri fell asleep right away and Flynn would wake up next to him. He knew Yuri had traveled the length and breadth of their world and spent numerous nights in close quarters with his friends, but those mornings still felt special, even if Yuri was a restless sleeper and hogged the covers. They held an intimacy different from that of lovemaking.
Then there were the times when Yuri would curl up beside Flynn, quiet but awake. Flynn had learned that those times could be the most difficult, because that was when Yuri would let his thoughts lead him where they would. They didn't always go to good places. Sometimes, Yuri let his thoughts take him places Flynn couldn't reach.
That night, Yuri had been particularly enthusiastic, though Flynn could tell that there was something on his mind. As they lay together afterward, sated and warm in Flynn's bed, Yuri rested his head on Flynn's chest. He was obviously not asleep, even if he didn't give any indication that he felt Flynn combing fingers through his hair. Until he spoke, however, Flynn had no idea exactly how troubling the thoughts keeping him awake were.
"We fought a group that used to be part of the Blood Alliance."
Flynn recognized that name, of course. The Blood Alliance had been one of the five master guilds before it had been disbanded after its leader was caught working with Councilman Ragou and trying to take over the Union.
"I was there when Barbos died," Yuri continued. "I fought him. He said something to me back then. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I can't get those words out of my head."
He didn't move any closer, but Flynn could feel the tension that was filling him up, felt Yuri force himself to relax, and felt that tension return a few seconds later. He kept quiet, knowing that Yuri was more likely to talk without any encouragement. Eventually, Yuri found the words he wanted, though they weren't his.
"He said to me: 'You remind me of Whitehorse in his youth. You're his spitting image.'"
Flynn's fingers stilled and he tried to sit up, straining to get a look at Yuri's face. He knew where this was going.
"Yuri—"
"The Don was from the empire, originally, and we know he has one grandson."
"Stop."
"'His spitting image,' Barbos said. I never knew my parents. What if—"
"Yuri, stop."
Flynn grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved, rolling him onto his back. Yuri didn't resist, and the uncertainty in his expression, something so far from his normal confidence, was heartbreaking.
"You can't do this to yourself. He was just trying to get to you, trying to distract you and create an opening. You do that to me all the time."
"Maybe. But he wasn't wrong, was he? There's a chance that—"
"So what if you look a little bit like him? Drunks have mistaken you for a woman before. It doesn't mean you are one."
"You think I didn't question it? You think I didn't try to work out any way I could be wrong about that? I assisted in the Don's suicide, and he might be my—"
"You can't torture yourself over possibilities!" Heaven knew he did that well enough with absolutes. "Please, Yuri, please let this go."
"How can you expect me to ignore this?"
"Because if there was any way to be sure, then you would know by now. It's been more than a year, and I don't believe for a second that you've found anyone who could tell you because otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me about it."
He stared Yuri down, willing him to let it go for his own sake. He knew how stubborn Yuri could be, and he knew how easily hurt he was, even if usually he would sooner break than allow it to show.
Yuri rolled his eyes and turned to put his back to Flynn, dragging the sheets up around himself. When Flynn touched his shoulder, Yuri shrugged him off. He wasn't about to leave things as they were, however. There was no way Yuri would actually let it go, and Flynn couldn't really blame him. It was important but…he didn't want to see Yuri hurt, and there was no way the situation could resolve itself favorably. Either Yuri would be left wondering for the rest of his life, or he would learn that he'd been given a false hint about where he had come from…or he would learn that he had assisted in his grandfather's suicide.
Briefly, Flynn wished that Barbos was still alive just so that he could beat the crap out of him.
Stretching out, Flynn settled his weight over Yuri and tried to ignore the pain when a well-placed jab with an elbow took him in the side. Whether he wanted to accept it or not, Yuri needed a little bit of comfort, and Flynn was going to provide for him. He only hoped that he could find the right words, for once.
"I'm sure he would have been proud of you. The Don followed his own path with amazing courage and conviction and, in the end, you were the only person who stepped forward to be what he needed."
Yuri had stopped trying to buck him off, which Flynn took as a good sign. Kissing gently along the curve of his shoulder, Flynn wondered if he'd actually been any help. Somehow, he doubted it. He knew that Yuri had respected the Don. To do what he did and then realize he might have been related to the man would have been an awful blow.
"You're crushing me," Yuri grumbled.
"If you have a problem, you're welcome to try and do something about it."
Instantly, Yuri was in motion, twisting and thrashing, trying to fight Flynn off. They wrestled for a few moments, hampered by the downy mattress and tangled sheets. When they settled, Flynn still had Yuri pinned to the bed, though he was on his back, the covers riding low on his hips. When he realized that he couldn't pull his wrists free of Flynn's grip without restarting the skirmish, Yuri stretched and, even so soon after sating themselves, the sight of him stirred something within Flynn. He licked his lips, and Yuri grinned up at him.
"Thinking maybe a distraction is in order?"
"We ought to get cleaned up."
"I'm good with a change of setting."
Flynn hesitated. He had a feeling that Yuri wasn't the one being distracted. Still, the uncertainty Barbos had poisoned Yuri with wasn't something that would be resolved quickly. This was something Yuri would be dealing with for quite some time, and probably on his own, for the most part. Maybe letting it go for a while would be the best way Flynn could support him.
He sank down on top of Yuri, kissing him deeply as he ground their hips together. Distraction or not, it was increasingly obvious that Yuri was very happy about the change of focus. Flynn broke this kiss and smiled down at him, tweaked a stray lock of his hair, then vaulted off the bed.
"Last one in is a rotten egg!"
"You crooked cheat!"
He heard the rustle of sheets and the thud of Yuri's feet hitting the floor, and a moment later, Yuri slammed into him from behind, wrapping his arms around Flynn's shoulders and leaning heavily on him. His was a warm weight, one Flynn didn't mind bearing on the rare occasions Yuri allowed it. Whether Yuri knew it or not, as far as Flynn was concerned, he was family.