A drabble inspired by Sassy's relentless playing of Assassin's Creed. We both thought the same thing at one of the scenes.

I don't own anything but the story itself.


You Love My Gun

"You going out to the range tonight?" Squall asked his boyfriend casually, leaning against the door-jam and watching as Irvine finished cleaning his rifle. The sharpshooter had the weapon lying over his lap and his fingers worked the length near his crotch.

"Was thinkin' about it." The tall man began reassembling the firing mechanism. "I'm fixin' to enter that competition they're starting."

"I knew you would." Steel-grey eyes fixed upon Irvine's hands. "You have a title to uphold."

"That I do. I reckon tonight I should see about scheduling time to practice every night." Irvine flicked his eyes at his lover. Squall was watching his hands intently. "It's gonna eat up a lot of time, though. Wasn't sure how you'd feel about that since we don't see each other much as it is."

"I could use the practice, too." Squall's attention was still on Irvine's crotch. "I'll go with you."

Irvine smirked. "Uh huh, you just want to get your finger on my trigger in a public place."

Squall didn't respond and Irvine frowned. He glanced down, following the sable-haired man's focus and a realization struck him. Squall wasn't looking at him, he was completely enamored with his gun. That wasn't right. He had to be imagining it.

Curious, Irvine stroked the rifle's barrel. Squall's eyes followed the movement. Indignant, the cowboy huffed. "You don't love me; you love my gun."

Squall finally drew his attention away from the weapon in his boyfriend's hands. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I should have seen it before." Irvine shook his head. "You're a gun fanatic. You nearly creamed your leathers when DeVince gave you that new one last week."

"……….."

"You don't love me, you love my gun." Irvine repeated.

Squall retorted. "No… I love what you do with your gun."

Irvine snorted on a laugh. "The sad thing is you mean that literally."

"There's a figurative meaning?"

Irvine stared at him. Shaking his head again, he stood and adjusted his hat. "Come on, let's hit the range."

Squall smirked mischievously and stepped further into the room. He kicked the door shut and locked it, then walked over. He took the rifle from Irvine's hand and held it up, running his hand along the barrel length.

He then set it on the dresser and turned toward the other SeeD. "I have a different kind of target practice in mind."

Irvine recognized the look on Squall's face. "You fixin' to explain?"

Squall pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his hips. "Only if you promise to not misfire."

Chuckling, Irvine grinned up at him. "I haven't yet."