My first Slayers fic in years, something that bled from my finger tips at its own whim. Yeah, it's both Valgarv and Garv talking at once. You're supposed to be slightly confused. Based on a theory I had years ago concerning on how exactly being human has affected Garv.

Fool For Love

A million miles between us

Plants crashing to dust

I just let it fade away.

--Garbage, "Cup of Coffee"

We were never gentle. It's never in our nature to be kind to one another, to touch each other without the animal hunger I've come to know. It would have seen strange if he was ever tender, foreign and frightening. Anytime he's overly kind, sensitive to my every word and the flash of my eyes--amber glass, I once heard him say one day, reeking of alcohol and something that resembled love--it means something is wrong. No, not the sort of wrong you could laugh at later, but true wrong. The sort of wrong that usually ends up with us fleeing from another burning encampment wondering when the next End of the World was scheduled and

I had--have--this thing and it's sorta sad, really. The fact that I'm both starving myself and indulging at the same time is the sort of karma slave irony the dragons preach. Personally, I think I just have the worst fucking luck of anyone I've ever known. And a human soul. Did I forget to mention that fucker?

whether or not I'd get to sleep within the next seventy-two hours. Being chased is something that happens every once and a while. Sometimes we run, sometimes we fight. Whatever Our Fearless Leader (or mine, maybe) thinks is the best thing to do at the time. And the trick

Oh yeah, I can regret. I can feel and bleed just like anyone of those fucking rats scuttling from house to house. Don't think for one second I don't have a heart. I may well be the only mazoku who's ever spared a fucking dragon's life just because they looked at me with watery eyes that looked like the universe was floating in them. Stupid

was always just to keep breathing in stale air and keep going during those times, so forget about catching your breath. I loved--love--it anyway. It's been the same routine for centuries. Empires and kings have fallen like dead butterflies around us but we're still us, still the same two people talking and beating the livin' snot out of each other and kissing and other things everyone knows about but won't talk about. We aren't a couple,

fucking soul. A demon with a soul, a demon who feels bad every time he drives a sword through someone's gut cos that someone is a Somebody and maybe that Someboy goes home to a lover and some kids and now they'll never be able to. I hate blood. Killin' is in my veins, but I hate the sight of blood. It bothers me as much as it fascinates Val. Isn't that

we just fuck. We just have sex. We never make love, create warmth and the sort of fuzzy feelings I've only read about. It just feels good and we're friends and we should want for each other to feel good right, or is that childish logic? I'm just being

funny? That he will bend down and lap the warm, sticky liquid flowing out of a man's neck like it's bloody fucking wine coming up from the tissue paper skin and I won't? The goddamn confident (ex I should say actually) of Ruby Eye hates blood.

naïve again. A naïve murderer, an oblivious right hand man of the devil. Love and touch are two different things altogether. Touch is harsh and hard and smells like alcohol and animal fur. Love is when I'm with

Val'd be pleased to hear me say that. That I respect him, that we're on equal levels and that I've never looked down on him. I never have actually--it would have taken guts to do what he did. He's half crazy now, mind you, but he made it. He's mine, and I guess I should be proud to

Oh never mind. I'm being stupid again. It's just that

have him by my side. Hell, I am proud! He's the best fighter I have, not to mention the only person I can trust with anything. Val's a good friend--he's exactly what I always thought he would become, if not more.

I'm sick of being "friends". We aren't friends. Friends don't sleep together and kiss and we're more than friends. Companions don't share a bed,

I flop down on the bed--our bed--and the sheets are, of course, tangled in a singular massive knot in the center of the bed and the air stinks of sweat and cheap wine. Yeah, fuck actually making the bed when the last thing we do on that mattress is sleep. I sit down on it, the whole thing creaking under my weight and--goddamn piece of junk--threatening to collapse under me. I don't care and spread out, shoving my hands behind my head. I want to sleep, to rest my eyes but my muscles are too tight and about as snarled as the sheets at this point.

after all. But he's Garv-sama and I'm just a servant. The world will restart itself twenty times over before I hear the three words I want to have slip from his lips. I'm just Val.

He really gets under my skin, in my head, you know? And half the time he's bouncing around my head like some sort of half crazed dragonfly doing loop the loops in and out of my mind. I never think about anyone this much, except for maybe Zellas and I fucking hate that bitch. But when Val's in my head and I can't get his face out, I don't really mind and I just want to see him. Kinda dumb huh? Like I have a infatuation with

the little dragon he fucks, he plays with.

him or something. A Dark Lord in love. How stupid. Really. It's such a fucking stupid thought, as if I could care about anyone enough. Isn't love when you'd give anything for a person, even your own life? I know he would because he's bound to me by soul and flesh and blood and everything unholy in this world and...well, the question is would I?

Or...maybe...Can I hope?

Yes.

Maybe.

I'm in love with my best friend?

Maybe he does care about me.

Let me repeat this a few times. I'm in love with the skinny little kid in the next room attempting to get his shirt on over the horn that popped out of nowhere when he was Turned?

Dumb shirt. Dumb horn. And goddamn Garv for just staring off into space like he's contemplating the wonders of the Universe when he's probably just having dirty thoughts about what we're probably about to do. And damn me for loving him.

So yeah. I guess I should tell him. Spew my fucking soul to him and let him change the subject or try to hit me. Whatever works. I'll dodge the blow and it'll be another one of our jokes that are all too true.

Maybe confessions are in order. Just three words and it's over and he can laugh in my face and I can say I'm drunk and that's that.

So tomorrow I'll tell him. Just stride right up to 'im and tell him and then we'll forget about it because he sure as hell doesn't love me.

So tomorrow

So tomorrow

I'll tell him

I'll try and tell him

I care about you. More than you probably expect.

I love you Garv-sama.

Just in the morning. I'll do it

In the morning, I'll tell him.

in the morning.

Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

OWARI