Title: Patience (working title)
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them.
Comments: Um, this is my first FF7 fanfic and it's shonen-ai, so beware. It's short, I don't know if it flows well or even works. C&C is much appreciated. thank you!
~=~
Barret Wallace was not a patient man. He liked saying what was on his mind right then and there; he'd grown accustomed to throwing tantrums of blind fury and getting his way. He didn't like to wait. But right now, he was waiting. Barret was being very, very patient.
He thought of Marlene who, when she wanted something very badly, would be very quiet, very calm, and very good. Sometimes she forgot all about it or just accepted that they didn't have the time or the money to get it, but usually, damn him, he'd go soft and get it for her. And now he was being very quiet, very calm and very good. He harrumphed and scratched his elbow. He wanted a reward or something.
He picked at the dirt under his nails. Maybe it would all just blow over and go away. He spit into the fire and watched as the glob hit a log and popped with a satisfying crack.
He stared into the heat of the fire. In the Inn, the ninja girl was muttering something about materia and cackling in her sleep again. He titled his head back and glared at the bright dots in the dark sky. Something must be wrong with him. His best friend from four years ago had just tried to kill him and then had gone and thrown himself off a cliff. He should be... angry, maybe, or bawling his eyes out, right? And, really, he'd done both. But here he was, just a few days later, sitting in a canyon in front of a roaring fire long after the rest of the crew had gone to sleep, thinking about... this. Waiting.
He hadn't meant for it to happen, wished it hadn't, actually, but some time between seeing Marlene's face go all red with pleasure because of some damn flower and kicking himself for not thinking to give her one before... some time between then and now, he couldn't remember exactly... Sometimes he thought it was when his blue eyes had narrowed, furious and determined, when he'd seen Aeris kidnapped, or when they'd found baby chicks by the railroads and he, icy and cold though he was, had quieted and his eyes had grown gentle. Other times he thought it went as far back as that first mission, the moment before they'd set the reactor to blow, when he'd faltered and his eyes had looked lost and confused in that sure, guarded face.
But some time, he'd... what was it Tifa had said when she'd gotten him so drunk he'd blurted it out? She'd been shocked, 'course, and then she'd laughed for so long he'd thought he'd have to smack her a good one to make her stop. But then she'd given him a funny look and said something like how lightening is always reaching for the earth and how fire melts ice. Some sentimental bullshit if you asked him, not to mention he didn't really get it, but thinking about it sometimes made him feel better. And sometimes it made him think about the shadow of eyelashes on a smooth cheek, the almost feminine curve of a chin, the infuriating angle of his eyebrows...
Fuck.
He hurled a twig into the fire viciously.
Goddammit.
Tifa had winked and told him to wait for the right moment and not to worry. But then things had just happened, like the plate falling and Dyne dying, and there wasn't a right moment and he was starting to worry because what he thought had maybe been just a small thing had started to turn into a big thing and...
He kicked a log into the fire and watched it burn.
He just wasn't good at waiting.
Fuck it all. He was sick of waiting, what good did waiting do anyway?! He jumped up. He'd just go and tell him. Yeah. He looked over at the Inn across from the fire, just a few yards away. He'd go in there, wake him up, and tell him... he'd tell him... what, exactly?
He flopped back down.
Shit.
He wasn't good with words either.
But he wasn't patient and he hated not knowing what to do and he--
Movement at the corner of his eyes. He turned his head to come face to face with glowing blue mako eyes with little flecks of gold and hazel in them. He glared and turned hastily away, tracing random patterns in the ashes with a twig.
"What are you doing here?"
It sounded more like an accusation than a question when he said it like that. Red started hazing around the edges of his vision and his mouth parted, thinking to tell him to go fuck off or something like that when a warm hand on his shoulder effectively stopped all thought.
"You seem kinda tired lately. You should go rest."
Again, more an order than anything else, but soft tendrils of hair tickled Barret's cheek and when he turned, eyes the color of the sea were watching him quietly. And then... Fucking...all the bloody goddamn.. for the love of... aw, hell. He smiled. Hesitant, almost shy, just the tips of his mouth curving upwards a bit, but a smile. Damn it.
"Awright, awright..."
He humphed like an old man, got to his feet, brushed off the dirt, and made his way over to the Inn.
He waited until he was in the safety of the shadowed room, sitting on the edge of the bed before he let the blood rush to his cheeks. He put his face in his hands and couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them.
Comments: Um, this is my first FF7 fanfic and it's shonen-ai, so beware. It's short, I don't know if it flows well or even works. C&C is much appreciated. thank you!
~=~
Barret Wallace was not a patient man. He liked saying what was on his mind right then and there; he'd grown accustomed to throwing tantrums of blind fury and getting his way. He didn't like to wait. But right now, he was waiting. Barret was being very, very patient.
He thought of Marlene who, when she wanted something very badly, would be very quiet, very calm, and very good. Sometimes she forgot all about it or just accepted that they didn't have the time or the money to get it, but usually, damn him, he'd go soft and get it for her. And now he was being very quiet, very calm and very good. He harrumphed and scratched his elbow. He wanted a reward or something.
He picked at the dirt under his nails. Maybe it would all just blow over and go away. He spit into the fire and watched as the glob hit a log and popped with a satisfying crack.
He stared into the heat of the fire. In the Inn, the ninja girl was muttering something about materia and cackling in her sleep again. He titled his head back and glared at the bright dots in the dark sky. Something must be wrong with him. His best friend from four years ago had just tried to kill him and then had gone and thrown himself off a cliff. He should be... angry, maybe, or bawling his eyes out, right? And, really, he'd done both. But here he was, just a few days later, sitting in a canyon in front of a roaring fire long after the rest of the crew had gone to sleep, thinking about... this. Waiting.
He hadn't meant for it to happen, wished it hadn't, actually, but some time between seeing Marlene's face go all red with pleasure because of some damn flower and kicking himself for not thinking to give her one before... some time between then and now, he couldn't remember exactly... Sometimes he thought it was when his blue eyes had narrowed, furious and determined, when he'd seen Aeris kidnapped, or when they'd found baby chicks by the railroads and he, icy and cold though he was, had quieted and his eyes had grown gentle. Other times he thought it went as far back as that first mission, the moment before they'd set the reactor to blow, when he'd faltered and his eyes had looked lost and confused in that sure, guarded face.
But some time, he'd... what was it Tifa had said when she'd gotten him so drunk he'd blurted it out? She'd been shocked, 'course, and then she'd laughed for so long he'd thought he'd have to smack her a good one to make her stop. But then she'd given him a funny look and said something like how lightening is always reaching for the earth and how fire melts ice. Some sentimental bullshit if you asked him, not to mention he didn't really get it, but thinking about it sometimes made him feel better. And sometimes it made him think about the shadow of eyelashes on a smooth cheek, the almost feminine curve of a chin, the infuriating angle of his eyebrows...
Fuck.
He hurled a twig into the fire viciously.
Goddammit.
Tifa had winked and told him to wait for the right moment and not to worry. But then things had just happened, like the plate falling and Dyne dying, and there wasn't a right moment and he was starting to worry because what he thought had maybe been just a small thing had started to turn into a big thing and...
He kicked a log into the fire and watched it burn.
He just wasn't good at waiting.
Fuck it all. He was sick of waiting, what good did waiting do anyway?! He jumped up. He'd just go and tell him. Yeah. He looked over at the Inn across from the fire, just a few yards away. He'd go in there, wake him up, and tell him... he'd tell him... what, exactly?
He flopped back down.
Shit.
He wasn't good with words either.
But he wasn't patient and he hated not knowing what to do and he--
Movement at the corner of his eyes. He turned his head to come face to face with glowing blue mako eyes with little flecks of gold and hazel in them. He glared and turned hastily away, tracing random patterns in the ashes with a twig.
"What are you doing here?"
It sounded more like an accusation than a question when he said it like that. Red started hazing around the edges of his vision and his mouth parted, thinking to tell him to go fuck off or something like that when a warm hand on his shoulder effectively stopped all thought.
"You seem kinda tired lately. You should go rest."
Again, more an order than anything else, but soft tendrils of hair tickled Barret's cheek and when he turned, eyes the color of the sea were watching him quietly. And then... Fucking...all the bloody goddamn.. for the love of... aw, hell. He smiled. Hesitant, almost shy, just the tips of his mouth curving upwards a bit, but a smile. Damn it.
"Awright, awright..."
He humphed like an old man, got to his feet, brushed off the dirt, and made his way over to the Inn.
He waited until he was in the safety of the shadowed room, sitting on the edge of the bed before he let the blood rush to his cheeks. He put his face in his hands and couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.