Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, this story is for fun, not profit. So on and so forth...
I was challenged to write this, and I have. A Dryden/Allen story. Very strange, I need to cut down on sugar... I really do. (Must stop giggling... must stop giggling...)
Allen's Type
(or: the odd yaoi story with the bad title)
The door creaked slightly when it was open. Mr. Rat, as Dryden both privately and publicly named his "assistant" (over the years, he had come to the conclusion "assistant" meant "high strung money-grubbing twit father sent to spy on me") had wanted to fix the squeak, but Dryden made him leave it. It let you know if someone was coming up behind you. Feigning oblivion, he waited until his visitor was within a couple yards before leaping to his feet and speaking.
"Oh golden haired damsel, I do bid you welcome to my humble study. I wish that as you gaze upon these tomes of wisdom that I have in my possession that you reflect upon my qualities as a groom and oh it's you," Dryden cut off abruptly, letting his dramatic gesturing fall flat. Allen blinked in shock for a moment before directing his usual glare at Dryden. Allen had many different glares, this particular one was reserved especially for Dryden and, on occasions, Van, the subjects of his utmost annoyance.
"I may have golden hair," he replied snappishly, "but I am no damsel."
"You could probably pass as one," Dryden replied jovially with a smirk, "so what can I do for you most pretty little blondie?" He plopped back down on the stepladder where he sat reading, peering at the knight over his glasses.
"Don't call me that," Allen narrowed his eyes, "I wanted to see if you had found anything in my father's journal yet."
"If I find something I'll let you know," then Dryden suggested, "how about 'one of the prissy skirt outfit thing'."
"It's part of the uniform. And you shouldn't be talking. Your clothes look as if you raided a used clothing store and made off wearing half the merchandise."
Dryden laughed, "Your hair looks like the princess's."
"You were silly glasses when you don't need them and have a bow in your hair."
Dryden froze. Then, quietly, he stated, "Let me guess, it looks like extra pointy ears." Allen backed up a bit in confusion, trying to comprehend what had come over the other man, but in doing so gave Dryden time to recover. "And your sleeves look like you have watermelons in them," he declared forcefully.
"They do not!" Allen look indignant. This just egged Dryden on, "What are they, floatation devices if you fall in water? Do you have Gaddes blow them up for you in the morning?" With each word Dryden had leaned in closer, so Allen was now glaring directly at Dryden's bright, smirking face.
"I do not," was his only defense, "and at least I treat women with respect."
"You treat them like delicate dolls. Really, they don't need that. They can take care of themselves, they need us no more than we need them."
"And what do you mean by that?" Allen asked, smiling back, but his insinuation clear by the tone of his voice. He had won, Dryden would get indignant and fold over in defeat and...
"I think you know," was Dryden's only response besides kissing Allen. Allen's eyes widened in shock, and he was too surprised to break it off. And so they were there for a moment, lips pressed together. Then Dryden's tongue swiped across Allen's bottom lip and...
"What the hell???" Allen jumped back, staring at Dryden, who was regarding him with a tilted head and blank expression. Allen scooted back as far as the cramped room would allow, until his back was flat against a bookshelf on the other side of the room from Dryden. There was a few minutes of thick silence, in which neither dared to move or to speak.
Finally, Dryden broke it, "So you're telling me you didn't like the kiss?" Allen stared at him without speaking. He highly doubted that he was capable of speech at this point. "Well, Allen, I believe it's traditional that people respond in conversations."
Then, the blond knight spoke, "Your bow does look like you have extra ears."
Dryden sighed. "Everyone says that. Even Sylvie. You'd think she'd wouldn't be picky but no, she said 'Take your hair down and stop wearing those silly glasses.' Funny that you would share the same opinion."
"Who's Sylvie?" Allen asked, feeling that he was on safer grounds at last.
"A mermaid," Dryden smiled wistfully. He paused for a moment, then, quite deliberately, pulled the bow out of his hair and removed his glasses. "So, do I look any better this way?" he inquired mischievously smiling his 'you know you want me' grin.
Allen felt the safe grounds turn into quicksand as he mentally admitted, yes, Dryden did look good with his hair down ... now if he wasn't wearing that silly robe thing ... He quickly derailed that train of thought. Allen suddenly found that Dryden was next to him, leaning against the wall, his hair still down but his glasses back on.
"So are you interested?" Dryden smirked. Allen was really starting to ... not hate that smirk as much as he use to. Though he did not appreciate that insinuation in the question. Allen found himself foundering between his previous dislike of Dryden and what was happening now. Lost in his vow to never fall in love again and... Dryden wouldn't exactly be the same sort of risk, would he? Couldn't get much different from Marlene, even Eris would admit that. But Millerna...
"You're engaged," Allen muttered as his last, desperate stand. He stared down at the floor, not wanting to admit that he was blushing feverishly.
"It's a political engagement. I'm sure Millerna's only putting up with it because I'm going to be away most of the time," Dryden replied gently. "I'm not really her type, even I need to go and admit that."
"But you're my type?" Allen inquired, feeling that he was quite perversely enjoying this conversation. Dryden smiled at him, with not a hint of smirking upon his unshaven face.
"Well, I think that is more your area of knowledge," he purred.
Van wandered down the passageways, trying to find Dryden to thank him for paying for Escaflowne's repairs. Dryden's ship was much nicer than the Crusade, you had to admit that, but it was horribly easy to get lost. As he turned a corner, he spied Merle leaning with on large against the wall, eyes peering inside a barely opened door.
"What are you looking at Merle?" he whispered, looking also. Then, words failed him and his puppy dog eyes opened ridiculously wide. His face was a mask of sheer and utter shock ... dropped chin and all.
Dryden... and Allen... were... kissing... no, scratch that. It was full make out session.
"Maybe we shouldn't be watch this..." Van suggested. Merle just shhh'ed him and continued to hungrily stare. She couldn't wait to tell Hitomi and Millerna.
I was challenged to write this, and I have. A Dryden/Allen story. Very strange, I need to cut down on sugar... I really do. (Must stop giggling... must stop giggling...)
Allen's Type
(or: the odd yaoi story with the bad title)
The door creaked slightly when it was open. Mr. Rat, as Dryden both privately and publicly named his "assistant" (over the years, he had come to the conclusion "assistant" meant "high strung money-grubbing twit father sent to spy on me") had wanted to fix the squeak, but Dryden made him leave it. It let you know if someone was coming up behind you. Feigning oblivion, he waited until his visitor was within a couple yards before leaping to his feet and speaking.
"Oh golden haired damsel, I do bid you welcome to my humble study. I wish that as you gaze upon these tomes of wisdom that I have in my possession that you reflect upon my qualities as a groom and oh it's you," Dryden cut off abruptly, letting his dramatic gesturing fall flat. Allen blinked in shock for a moment before directing his usual glare at Dryden. Allen had many different glares, this particular one was reserved especially for Dryden and, on occasions, Van, the subjects of his utmost annoyance.
"I may have golden hair," he replied snappishly, "but I am no damsel."
"You could probably pass as one," Dryden replied jovially with a smirk, "so what can I do for you most pretty little blondie?" He plopped back down on the stepladder where he sat reading, peering at the knight over his glasses.
"Don't call me that," Allen narrowed his eyes, "I wanted to see if you had found anything in my father's journal yet."
"If I find something I'll let you know," then Dryden suggested, "how about 'one of the prissy skirt outfit thing'."
"It's part of the uniform. And you shouldn't be talking. Your clothes look as if you raided a used clothing store and made off wearing half the merchandise."
Dryden laughed, "Your hair looks like the princess's."
"You were silly glasses when you don't need them and have a bow in your hair."
Dryden froze. Then, quietly, he stated, "Let me guess, it looks like extra pointy ears." Allen backed up a bit in confusion, trying to comprehend what had come over the other man, but in doing so gave Dryden time to recover. "And your sleeves look like you have watermelons in them," he declared forcefully.
"They do not!" Allen look indignant. This just egged Dryden on, "What are they, floatation devices if you fall in water? Do you have Gaddes blow them up for you in the morning?" With each word Dryden had leaned in closer, so Allen was now glaring directly at Dryden's bright, smirking face.
"I do not," was his only defense, "and at least I treat women with respect."
"You treat them like delicate dolls. Really, they don't need that. They can take care of themselves, they need us no more than we need them."
"And what do you mean by that?" Allen asked, smiling back, but his insinuation clear by the tone of his voice. He had won, Dryden would get indignant and fold over in defeat and...
"I think you know," was Dryden's only response besides kissing Allen. Allen's eyes widened in shock, and he was too surprised to break it off. And so they were there for a moment, lips pressed together. Then Dryden's tongue swiped across Allen's bottom lip and...
"What the hell???" Allen jumped back, staring at Dryden, who was regarding him with a tilted head and blank expression. Allen scooted back as far as the cramped room would allow, until his back was flat against a bookshelf on the other side of the room from Dryden. There was a few minutes of thick silence, in which neither dared to move or to speak.
Finally, Dryden broke it, "So you're telling me you didn't like the kiss?" Allen stared at him without speaking. He highly doubted that he was capable of speech at this point. "Well, Allen, I believe it's traditional that people respond in conversations."
Then, the blond knight spoke, "Your bow does look like you have extra ears."
Dryden sighed. "Everyone says that. Even Sylvie. You'd think she'd wouldn't be picky but no, she said 'Take your hair down and stop wearing those silly glasses.' Funny that you would share the same opinion."
"Who's Sylvie?" Allen asked, feeling that he was on safer grounds at last.
"A mermaid," Dryden smiled wistfully. He paused for a moment, then, quite deliberately, pulled the bow out of his hair and removed his glasses. "So, do I look any better this way?" he inquired mischievously smiling his 'you know you want me' grin.
Allen felt the safe grounds turn into quicksand as he mentally admitted, yes, Dryden did look good with his hair down ... now if he wasn't wearing that silly robe thing ... He quickly derailed that train of thought. Allen suddenly found that Dryden was next to him, leaning against the wall, his hair still down but his glasses back on.
"So are you interested?" Dryden smirked. Allen was really starting to ... not hate that smirk as much as he use to. Though he did not appreciate that insinuation in the question. Allen found himself foundering between his previous dislike of Dryden and what was happening now. Lost in his vow to never fall in love again and... Dryden wouldn't exactly be the same sort of risk, would he? Couldn't get much different from Marlene, even Eris would admit that. But Millerna...
"You're engaged," Allen muttered as his last, desperate stand. He stared down at the floor, not wanting to admit that he was blushing feverishly.
"It's a political engagement. I'm sure Millerna's only putting up with it because I'm going to be away most of the time," Dryden replied gently. "I'm not really her type, even I need to go and admit that."
"But you're my type?" Allen inquired, feeling that he was quite perversely enjoying this conversation. Dryden smiled at him, with not a hint of smirking upon his unshaven face.
"Well, I think that is more your area of knowledge," he purred.
Van wandered down the passageways, trying to find Dryden to thank him for paying for Escaflowne's repairs. Dryden's ship was much nicer than the Crusade, you had to admit that, but it was horribly easy to get lost. As he turned a corner, he spied Merle leaning with on large against the wall, eyes peering inside a barely opened door.
"What are you looking at Merle?" he whispered, looking also. Then, words failed him and his puppy dog eyes opened ridiculously wide. His face was a mask of sheer and utter shock ... dropped chin and all.
Dryden... and Allen... were... kissing... no, scratch that. It was full make out session.
"Maybe we shouldn't be watch this..." Van suggested. Merle just shhh'ed him and continued to hungrily stare. She couldn't wait to tell Hitomi and Millerna.