miikka-xx: alright, so i've written soulmaka, tsubakiasura... so obviously, the next step is lizkiddpatty ot3! i'm not big on the pairing but i wanted to try it. the fic is a little experimental, and it sort of sucks, but i hope you guys will like it anyways.
Title: Bullet Casings
Rating: T
Summary: This is how the pieces fit. lizkidpatty. complete.
Disclaimer: maaan, if i owned Soul Eater... crack pairings FTW.
Warning(s): this is a threesome! that means: lizpatty. pattyliz. lizkidd. pattykidd. incest, yuri, het, don't like? don't read!
bullet casings
They're still young when they first come together. Liz is stumbling along at 16 while Patty is stuck at 14 and Kidd struggles to come to terms with 15. They fumble with their words and stutter out their thoughts and lock themselves away for minutes on end before greeting each other. They're self-conscious and confused and looking at everything with new eyes.
They're still stuck with sharp angles and soft curves and biting lips. Liz hates that her limbs seem to stretch on forever, Patty frowns that her chest makes her back hurt, Kidd wants to dye his hair everyday but nothing gets through to the white. Life seems to be stuck at a standstill and they're looking at each other to find out where they're going. Where they want to go. What they'll risk to get there.
Patty moves first because she doesn't care what happens, doesn't give a damn about the consequences, doesn't think of society's opinions and relies on her instinct. She moves first.
The first thing Liz thinks is: her lips are soft. It's gentle and warm and she likes that Patty presses another kiss on her cheek before stepping back.
"I love you," Patty tells her in all seriousness. She's never kissed her sister before. Not even on the cheek or the forehead. They communicate through light touches and jubilant yells and the familiar feel of each other's callouses when they wield each other. Liz blinks in surprise, uncertain of what to do but leans down and presses her mouth to the crown of her little sister's head.
"I love you too," smiles Liz brightly, blushing and fumbling. So Patty kissed her on the cheek, big deal, she tries to tell herself, but it means more than that.
Brooklyn's streets are not dark. They're coloured black and lines are blurred until you can't seem them anymore. Their parents pass away when Liz is 9 and Patty is 7 and they grow up with insults on their tongues and bullets screaming through the air. They try everything to forget. Bad trips to fight rings to spitting out blood on the concrete for a guy's wallet. Patty loses her first baby tooth when she's 9 and a guy punches her in mouth. Liz gets her first period when she's 12 and thinks she's dying from the kick a few days ago.
They have seen everything. From men turned into women to men pressing their tongues into girls half their age's mouths. This isn't a stretch.
Patty remembers the feel of smooth skin under her mouth, sending shivers down her spine. The line between sisters and friends and lovers and everything in between is erased in the black streets of Brooklyn that stretch on forever in their minds.
Liz moves second. She follows her sister's lead, tripping along the way, trying to see things more clearly, through her own eyes instead of anybody else's. She blocks out thoughts of: people think this is wrong, people wouldn't accept this, people already hate it, people would never understand, people—
Patty kisses her forehead this time, standing on her bed and leaning forward, showing all her cleavage and caring for none of it. Liz is putting her nail polish away on her bedside dresser when her sister jumps up and pecks her right above the eyebrows.
Liz almost drops the nail polish bottle in surprise and her face is red. She nods once and tucks it away. Then she turns around, face to face with Patty's bare stomach. Liz doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing, doesn't know where this will go. She wants to feel things under her lips, wants to feel warm skin and a pleased smile. Her mind shuts down and desire takes over and her lips are pressed featherlight against Patty's navel.
It's not long enough to cherish but Liz remembers each goose bump on her sister's skin after she pulls away.
Liz thinks the world will end when her sister dies. The earth will crumble beneath her feet and green grass will rot to brown. She feels the same apprehension and dread when she pulls away and looks up at Patty. This is wrong, the people in her head scream, she's flesh and blood and sister and—
Patty's mouth is soft, very gentle and makes her gasp. Liz doesn't question her movements, doesn't ponder on how her little sister learned to kiss like that. She kisses back, on her tippy-toes while Patty's standing on the bed and bent at the waist. This is what it feels like, she notes vaguely. It feels like all the breath has escaped from her and she almost falls if it wasn't for the reassuring warmth of Patty's hands on her shoulders.
They part and Patty laughs. I love her, Liz thinks suddenly, and it's okay.
Kidd falls down a lot on his journey. He is constantly plagued by his father's reasoning, by the made-up voice in his head that criticizes each decision. He has to resist slamming the door when he walks in Liz's room.
Society screams in his mind that even if they're fully clothed, even if the only part touching is their fingertips and bare arms, sisters shouldn't look at each other that way and nor should females! Yet the feeling that comes when Patty draws butterflies over Liz's arm and giggles, it is not disgust or revulsion. Despite mind-Shinigami lecturing him on the morals of society, he doesn't care.
He just doesn't give a damn.
The souls that wander the earth, waiting to be eaten, are serial killers and child rapists. Kidd has yet to hunt down a cross-dresser or a homosexual. They tell him the road to hell is paved with good intentions. He likes to disagree. Because good intentions are purely good, are they not?
That's why he hasn't found a ghost who kissed his sister and his sister had kissed back and they lived happily ever after in a little apartment somewhere. The road to hell, in his opinion, is paved with morbid thoughts. Kidd is reassured time and time again that his theory works better when the screaming ghost of a killer comes sprinting at him with a knife.
Looking now, at the way Patty watches her sister with wide, all-believing eyes and Liz looks back, a bit shy but pleased none the less, Kidd thinks that morbid thoughts are the last things they would think about.
"Kidd!" greets Liz brightly when he enters her bedroom. Patty looks up, smiling and waves. Kidd nods and leans against the bedpost, three feet away from the two girls.
"Whatcha doin', Kidd?" asks Patty, rolling from her place beside her sister to the boy.
"What are you guys doing?" he counters smoothly, looking at Liz who's sitting and leaning back on her hands. His eyes slide over to Patty, on her stomach with elbows propped and a sunny face beaming from on top of them.
"We want to get tattoos," says Liz. Patty nods.
"Hm? Where?" says Kidd, his mind shifting from the ongoing debate about morals to the impending OCD trying to overwhelm him.
Liz shrugs. "On our arms, I guess?"
Something snaps in Kidd. "That's not even remotely symmetrical, Liz. Get it on your stomach! Maybe a balloon!" He shifts towards childish glee at the thought and carries on with it.
The two weapons watch in amusement as Kidd names off symmetrical objects to tattoo on them, easily going through a few dozen when Patty stops him. She leans over and presses her mouth lightly to his cheek.
"Bullets," she mouths against his skin. Kidd is frozen, doesn't know how to react. His mind shuts down from too much warmth, too much feeling, too much instinctive things he wants to do. Like kiss her back. And trace patterns across the white skin.
"Bullets," he repeats softly. He feels the distinct lack of heat when she pulls away. Liz gets up and kisses his other cheek.
"Guns," she mouths out as well. Kidd's only functions were breathing and blinking at the moment. His senses were in overdrive at the moment. He could feel the little shifts of air, hear the tiniest rustle of cloth, smell the smoke and gunpowder they naturally exuded.
"Guns," his mouth says without him knowing.
"Ne, Kidd," says Patty, "what do you think we should get?"
Kidd doesn't know. He looks at Patty and reaches a hand up. He touches her hair, traces her jaw line. He realizes something. A fact he hadn't thought about before.
"You're beautiful," he deadpans. Predictably, Patty laughs and takes his fingers. She kisses each one softly.
"And what about me, Kidd?" Liz asks, hands on her hips as he turns around in surprise. Kidd watches her for a few seconds before moving. He traces her collarbone with his other hand, letting it brush lightly up the nape of her neck and lose itself in her hair.
"You're beautiful," he tells her simply, truthfully.
They're shy, self-conscious, not-used-to-this-warm-feeling. This is a messed up road they seem to be taking, filled with stupid people's opinions and political debates and questionable morals and dirty accusations. They don't care.
The girls have lived in Brooklyn, faced the ugly side of life, and lived in it for a while. The boy has been raised in a family of power and responsibility and the darker truth on some matters.
It's like: been there, done that, got a t-shirt. Now where's the next stop?
Here.
Here is a place where Patty's kisses are gentle and hot, something so simple expressing so much. Here is a place where Liz's kisses are rough and demanding, desperate yet beautiful. Here is a place where Kidd's kisses are something in between— something simple and desperate where he's breaking out of what he always knew and finding himself in the cracks.
Here is a place where Kidd's legs get tangled up in Liz's and Liz's mouth is pressed to Patty's stomach and Patty's head is tucked away in the crook of Kidd's elbow and Patty's hands entangled in Liz's hair. And they're some sort of endless circle that goes on forever.
Here is a place where Liz is stumbling along at 16 while Patty is stuck at 14 and Kidd struggles to come to terms with 15 and its okay.
Being confused and shy and self-conscious and mixed-up and screwed over is okay.
Because they're here now.
a/n: eh, it's okay. still don't like it. anyways, i hope you enjoyed. the guns are hard to write! so is kidd! so, i apologize for the raging OOCness you saw everywhere. atleast i stuck in symmetrical in there somewhere. drop a line. i would love to hear from you guys. :)
Edited June 05, 2010. ffnet, your formatting sucks, btw.