a/n: This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).
Rating: PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).
Disclaimer: The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.
"Go on Charlie, hit it with the pokey end."
Charlie looked terrified as the mushroom loomed at him. Mushrooms shouldn't loom! It was just wrong. Wrong! He flailed outwards with the halberd and wished, not for the first time that day, that he'd taken Palla up on her firestrike offer.
The blade connected with the soft body of the mushroom by sheer luck, scoring a line through it that leaked Pyreflies.
"Oh, go on! Almost!" David was almost jumping up and down with the tension, and even Rob was slightly on edge.
Charlie fixed his grip on the halberd, both hands spread wide, and stabbed at the Fiend. Pyreflies poured from the wound, and the thing disappeared. Charlie let out a whoop of triumph and spun around to face David and Rob, a huge grin on his face. He probably should feel silly for being so goofy, but he didn't because he actually killed a Fiend! Albeit a Fiend that, well, it wasn't moving around very much, and when it did move, it just sort of... waved a load of dust in his face, but still. It was the principal that mattered. And anyway, the mushroom was stronger than the wolves from the other day, according to David, and Rob looked vaguely more impressed than he had the last three times, so that was something.
"That was brilliant," David said, smiling hugely.
Charlie beamed at him, and flopped onto the grass, grabbing a handful of the stuff to clean his halberd with. Rob had whittered on and on about how important it was to clean your weapon after you've used it, and although Charlie had sniggered for about ten minutes after, he saw the sense and now it was sort of a habit.
David joined him, leaning against Charlie's back with a sigh. "It's a lovely day," he said, wistfully. Charlie tensed up as David rolled his sleeves back and loosened his robe – he could feel the heat of his skin pressing against his arm, which made him feel oddly awkward. He laughed, the sound stark against the peace of the landscape. Not like you could feel at ease on Mushroom Rock anyway, considering the scars etched into the land itself. Sound echoed in a funny way, and the air seemed to whistle with Pyreflies, even though Charlie could never see any, not directly. They hovered just out of sight, at the corners of his vision, and he fucking hated it. But not quite as much as he hated the feelings in his stomach that were betraying him for a sissy, all because David had praised him, and David was leaning against him, and David's skin was touching his. It made him want to cover up like a monk, and that was just wrong.
Rob sat cross-legged, cleaning his own sword. He'd dispatched the two giant hornets that were palling up with the mushroom with relative ease. Charlie didn't want to admit it, but he was pretty good. And why don't you want to admit it, he thought. You just think about that for a minute. Nope, those were not good questions. He finished cleaning the halberd and placed it on the grass next to him. Leaning back on his hands, he allowed David to adjust his position and then let his head drop back so he was looking at the sky. He could see the dark sweep of David's hair from the corner of his eye, and he tried not to stare at the way it mussed in the breeze. None of that, he told himself, firmly.
"It's the Mi'ihen Highroad next," Rob commented, laying aside his sword. "Worse Fiends up there, I hear. We might be needing Ixion's help."
David grimaced. He still wasn't full confident of his Summoning capabilities – the sensation of sharing his mind was a decidedly odd one. He found himself occasionally thinking about things differently, as if he were channelling the Fayth's spirit in more ways than one. The big horse – he was reluctant to think of him as a unicorn, simply because it sounded so bloody twee – had clearly been a man of passions when he was alive, and his heady appreciation of life filled David to the brim on occasion, like today. The day was good, the scent was good, the feeling of Charlie's skin against his was good, and he flared his nostrils, enjoying the breeze.
"I suppose you're right," he said, heavily. "The more I get used to it, the less terrifying it'll be when... when I need it."
"Yes, exactly. Get used to it now." While you still can.
