Manic x Scourge: 2 AM
Requested by Trash
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It's something about that whole aesthetic: him, leaning against the cracked stone wall, with a cigarette and such an uncharacteristically distant look, face lit weirdly by all those glowing signs. Manic feels more worn out than drowsy, but still it takes him like a minute to realise that he's just watching Scourge stare at the horizon, just looking quietly… Okay, well, it's time for them to get back on the road, right?
Right? Keep talking to yourself, Manic; makes you sound real smart.
…He's tired. Alright, they're both tired – maybe they should just find a hotel somewhere in this tiny town? Instead of driving all night? An inn maybe? Sounds good enough, Manic thinks, and glances at Scourge again. He's done away with his cigarette, and his eyes flit up to meet Manic's...
His heart really shouldn't speed up like this when Scourge looks at him like that. It's been months- And Scourge's eyes are just blue, anyway. Short lashes. Regular blue. And yet-
"Hotel sound good to you?" Manic manages to say, after a moment.
Scourge shrugs, a prolonged movement of rolling his shoulders. "Sure."
-They pile onto Scourge's shitty motorbike. Manic doesn't know why he keeps it around (his old hover board has nothing to do with this) and the thing feels like it could start falling apart at any moment. At least Scourge knows how to drive, how to take hazard shortcuts and speed too fast and how to giggle when it's over. (Scourge really isn't the guy you'd bring to prom, but he's good enough for a travel-companion.)
They do find a hotel, and the tired receptionist gives them looks like "youths these days" and "why, it's like 2 AM", but they do get a room. Manic drops their bags by the door and sprawls out on the bed, and Scourge kicks his shin to get him to move. Manic responds in kind, swatting him with a lumpy pillow. To which Scourge also grabs a pillow, and then it's just an all on out duel, smirks and grins and a burst pillow spewing feathers all over the place.
"You lose," Manic gleefully declares, after Scourge's pillow exploded.
Scourge narrows his eyes. "Oh really?" –and then he knocks Manic's pillow away and pins him down, pressing down his arms and leaning in close.
Manic feels a little like he just got a jolt of electricity, but then he tilts up and kisses him… and kicks at his legs, flipping Scourge over so that it's Manic who's smirking down at him, holding down his wrists.
"You lose," he repeats. Scourge's eyes – wider than usual – narrow, and he attempts to twist away. He doesn't succeed, and Manic leans down to kiss him again. And then Scourge goes very still, before kissing back like he's been waiting all day to do it. And while they may not have finesse, they have passion, and that makes the goddamn difference.
A/N: I'm sorry it's so short, but here
