Author's Notes: Let me just start by saying that I am so, so sorry to anyone who was following this fic. The time that this chpater took is just insane. All I can say is... life happened. In a not-necessarily-pleasant sort of way. That's my only excuse-- gomen.
Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to beanclam. Not only has she put up with me, but she also requested making out. I hope this lives up to expectations.
Warnings: Yaoi, making out, sap. Enjoy!
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A Bit of Luck
===============
Chapter 5
===============
Beyond the cloth walls of the tent, the sky had begun to fade into the steely grey of early morning, not yet casting enough light to see by. Inside the makeshift dwelling, an oil lamp burned fitfully. All was silent, save the steady sound of peaceful breathing. All was still.
For a boy like Gippal, usually so enamored of action and excitement, it was a strange event when he took the time to appreciate moments as they passed. In truth, the Al Bhed hadn't yet realized how much time had gone by; hours had simply slipped away, the hush of the room a natural part of them. All his attention had come to rest upon the dark skin of the boy that lay sleeping less than an arm's distance from him-- and somehow, the passage of time seemed less important when confronted by such a task.
Baralai had been healed, and it showed in both his face and manner. The ashen cast had faded from the dark skin of the boy's cheeks, and his brow was no longer haunted by pain. His lips, cracked from the heat, had been smoothed over, though Gippal could still recall the tang of blood from their shared kiss.
Had the Al Bhed boy not been so intent upon his companion's face-- had he not been so fascinated with the curve of his jawline and the gentle parting of those lips-- he might not have noticed the first signs of awakening. The eyelashes fluttered once, revealing a hint of warm brown, and it was all the warning Gippal needed. By the time that Baralai had attempted his first croaking plea for water, the Al Bhed was helping him to sit and offering a glass.
For a long moment, the only noise was that of small, desperate gulps as the boy drank-- and then Gippal pulled the glass from his grasp. Batting away the hands that reached instinctively for the container and ignoring the alarmed expression that his actions caused, the Al Bhed offered a reassuring smile. "Hold up a minute. You're gonna make yourself sick."
Even in the dim light of the tent, he could make out the struggle that flitted over Baralai's features. In the end, though, the part of the boy that knew Gippal was telling the truth won out, and the only response he offered was a quick nod.
When the Al Bhed presented the glass to him the second time, the boy took it more carefully, the sips longer but less rushed. It was several minutes before Baralai downed the rest of the water, and when he returned the empty glass, the desperate edge seemed to have gone from his thirst.
Shelving the container, Gippal turned his full attention to his companion-- the downcast eyes, warmly brown in the light of the flickering flame, the white hair hopelessly rumpled from sleep. Slowly, a grin crept onto the Al Bhed's face, an expression both delighted and mischievous. Had Baralai been watching, he'd have recognized it as his friend's about-to-something-insane look.
But the boy wasn't paying attention-- by the melancholy cast that had begun to tinge his features, Gippal suspected that he was intent once more on the negative what-ifs that he so hated himself.
And so, of course, there was only one logical option: distraction.
Before Baralai had a chance to protest, or had even realized what was going on, Gippal flopped comfortably into his lap.
"Lraan ib! (Cheer up!)" came the mock-command, the playful tone matched by the sparkle in the single aqua eye that Baralai now found himself staring into. The Al Bhed grinned wider as the boy turned an interesting shade of crimson, dark skin doing nothing to hide the blush.
"You weren't dreaming," Gippal reassured, ignoring the startled expression that had bloomed across his friend's face. "About any of it. We made it under the limit-- so you don't get to worry anymore!"
Baralai had to lick his lips before he could reply, and even then the words were shaky and a little hoarse. "But we almost weren't," he insisted quietly. "And I'm still--"
The sentence was cut off abruptly when Gippal's hand reached up to cover the boy's mouth. "Oh, no you don't. E's cunno, E's cunno-- (I'm sorry, I'm sorry--) No more of that!" This time the tone of Gippal's voice was quite serious, and the grin disappeared for a moment, replaced by something resembling the previous worry. "It's over. We're done. Even if it -had- been your fault-- which it wasn't-- none of that would matter now."
"But I -am-," Baralai objected.
"Well, you shouldn't be," the Al Bhed countered. "After all, the whole mess convinced me to do something I've been meaning to do for awhile." Gippal paused for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you're sorry for -that-?"
"I-- no," the boy protested, blush returning after a brief absence. "I mean-- yes. I mean--" Evidently realizing that his stammering wasn't making sense, Baralai cut himself off abruptly, brow furrowing slightly the way it always did when he was attempting to gather his thoughts.
It was at precisely the moment when Gippal opened his mouth to tease him about it that the boy leaned down to kiss him.
It was clumsy, and uncertain, and it was only a moment before the awkward angle forced them to break apart. But Gippal was breathing a little heavier for it, and an amazed little smile tugged its way across his lips.
"Good answer." A single aqua eye searched his companion's face and trailed lower, appraising. "But why are you way up there?"
Abruptly rolling out of Baralai's lap, the Al Bhed grabbed his friend by the collar and tugged him downward, chuckling at the startled yelp that his actions yielded. And when the boy fell heavily against him and a pair of startled brown eyes were inches from his own, Gippal's grin returned in force. "That's better."
This time, it was the Al Bhed that leaned in for the kiss, and it was neither clumsy nor uncertain. Gippal knew very well the best ways to drive a person crazy with his mouth-- several of the girls and a few of the boys at Home could attest to that fact-- and if the small noise that he'd managed to wring from Baralai was any indication, he was doing a good job.
So, too, was the hand that he felt a moment later, tugging ineffectually at the collar of his shirt-- and, never one to protest the loss of clothing, Gippal reached to oblige the boy.
Using one arm to roll Baralai from the position above him, the Al Bhed lifted himself into an awkward kneeling position for just long enough to divest himself of the shirt. Much approving of the new set of circumstances, he settled himself on top of his companion with a triumphant grin. "Your turn."
Setting to work simultaneously on the boy's buttons and on exploring his mouth, Gippal allowed his free hand to push cloth aside, feeling his enthusiastic way along an expanse of dark skin. It didn't take much to realize that the unconscious shifting of Baralai's hips did little to keep his hand steady enough to tend to shirt buttons, but frankly, the friction was too great an added bonus for Gippal to break the contact.
It was just as the Al Bhed had managed to wrest the last button free and was beginning to tug his companion's shirt up by the hem that the voice came crashing into his brain.
"A moment of your time."
Starting guiltily, the two boys flew apart, red-faced, to find that Nooj and Paine were watching them from the entrance to the tent. The girl seemed more than a little amused; their commander, however, had an impatient air to both his stance and tone. Feeling his cheeks darken, Gippal realized quite suddenly that they likely hadn't heard him on the first attempt to get their attention.
"I thought you should know," Nooj told them, disapproving gaze trailing from Gippal to Baralai and back "That breakfast is soon. And that there won't be another meal until they distribute rations." With that, the man turned to leave the tent, moving with his peculiar, jerky gait.
"And," Paine flashed them a curious little smile, "That you still have fifteen minutes." With that, she hastened after their commander.
Staring after the pair with a single aqua eye wide, Gippal gave a shaky laugh. "Well," he offered, "They took that well."
Glancing over to Baralai, the Al Bhed was amused to see that the boy looked very near to suffering heart failure. His eyes were huge, mouth gaping open and closed almost imperceptibly. The expression, combined with the fact that the boy's hair was hopelessly tousled and his shirt still open, gave Gippal all the momentum he needed to assault the boy once more, pinning him to the bed in the space of approximately five seconds.
Grinning down at his captive, the Al Bhed leaned in for a kiss-- long, and slow, and insistent. The warm brown of Baralai's eyes and the feel of the boy's body underneath his was something that he'd waited for entirely too long. Shifting his hips to gain more contact, Gippal thought dimly that he'd have to do something about the infuriating cloth that was keeping skin from skin.
"Gippal," the boy gasped, voice hitching slightly as the Al Bhed broke the contact in order to trail a line of kisses down his throat. "Gippal, we shouldn't-- You h-heard…"
"Exactly," the Al Bhed purred. "You heard the girl. We still have fifteen minutes."
When the only sound that came by way of protest was the little noise as he reached Baralai's collarbone, Gippal smirked and began pressing kisses down the smooth expanse of his companion's chest.
They were almost on time for breakfast.
-owari-
Closing Notes: Plug time! For more of my work, check out www.thecastings.com. It's my joint-effort webcomic, complete with pretty boys, angst, and yaoi implications. And the art's fantastic!
Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to beanclam. Not only has she put up with me, but she also requested making out. I hope this lives up to expectations.
Warnings: Yaoi, making out, sap. Enjoy!
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Chapter 5
===============
Beyond the cloth walls of the tent, the sky had begun to fade into the steely grey of early morning, not yet casting enough light to see by. Inside the makeshift dwelling, an oil lamp burned fitfully. All was silent, save the steady sound of peaceful breathing. All was still.
For a boy like Gippal, usually so enamored of action and excitement, it was a strange event when he took the time to appreciate moments as they passed. In truth, the Al Bhed hadn't yet realized how much time had gone by; hours had simply slipped away, the hush of the room a natural part of them. All his attention had come to rest upon the dark skin of the boy that lay sleeping less than an arm's distance from him-- and somehow, the passage of time seemed less important when confronted by such a task.
Baralai had been healed, and it showed in both his face and manner. The ashen cast had faded from the dark skin of the boy's cheeks, and his brow was no longer haunted by pain. His lips, cracked from the heat, had been smoothed over, though Gippal could still recall the tang of blood from their shared kiss.
Had the Al Bhed boy not been so intent upon his companion's face-- had he not been so fascinated with the curve of his jawline and the gentle parting of those lips-- he might not have noticed the first signs of awakening. The eyelashes fluttered once, revealing a hint of warm brown, and it was all the warning Gippal needed. By the time that Baralai had attempted his first croaking plea for water, the Al Bhed was helping him to sit and offering a glass.
For a long moment, the only noise was that of small, desperate gulps as the boy drank-- and then Gippal pulled the glass from his grasp. Batting away the hands that reached instinctively for the container and ignoring the alarmed expression that his actions caused, the Al Bhed offered a reassuring smile. "Hold up a minute. You're gonna make yourself sick."
Even in the dim light of the tent, he could make out the struggle that flitted over Baralai's features. In the end, though, the part of the boy that knew Gippal was telling the truth won out, and the only response he offered was a quick nod.
When the Al Bhed presented the glass to him the second time, the boy took it more carefully, the sips longer but less rushed. It was several minutes before Baralai downed the rest of the water, and when he returned the empty glass, the desperate edge seemed to have gone from his thirst.
Shelving the container, Gippal turned his full attention to his companion-- the downcast eyes, warmly brown in the light of the flickering flame, the white hair hopelessly rumpled from sleep. Slowly, a grin crept onto the Al Bhed's face, an expression both delighted and mischievous. Had Baralai been watching, he'd have recognized it as his friend's about-to-something-insane look.
But the boy wasn't paying attention-- by the melancholy cast that had begun to tinge his features, Gippal suspected that he was intent once more on the negative what-ifs that he so hated himself.
And so, of course, there was only one logical option: distraction.
Before Baralai had a chance to protest, or had even realized what was going on, Gippal flopped comfortably into his lap.
"Lraan ib! (Cheer up!)" came the mock-command, the playful tone matched by the sparkle in the single aqua eye that Baralai now found himself staring into. The Al Bhed grinned wider as the boy turned an interesting shade of crimson, dark skin doing nothing to hide the blush.
"You weren't dreaming," Gippal reassured, ignoring the startled expression that had bloomed across his friend's face. "About any of it. We made it under the limit-- so you don't get to worry anymore!"
Baralai had to lick his lips before he could reply, and even then the words were shaky and a little hoarse. "But we almost weren't," he insisted quietly. "And I'm still--"
The sentence was cut off abruptly when Gippal's hand reached up to cover the boy's mouth. "Oh, no you don't. E's cunno, E's cunno-- (I'm sorry, I'm sorry--) No more of that!" This time the tone of Gippal's voice was quite serious, and the grin disappeared for a moment, replaced by something resembling the previous worry. "It's over. We're done. Even if it -had- been your fault-- which it wasn't-- none of that would matter now."
"But I -am-," Baralai objected.
"Well, you shouldn't be," the Al Bhed countered. "After all, the whole mess convinced me to do something I've been meaning to do for awhile." Gippal paused for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you're sorry for -that-?"
"I-- no," the boy protested, blush returning after a brief absence. "I mean-- yes. I mean--" Evidently realizing that his stammering wasn't making sense, Baralai cut himself off abruptly, brow furrowing slightly the way it always did when he was attempting to gather his thoughts.
It was at precisely the moment when Gippal opened his mouth to tease him about it that the boy leaned down to kiss him.
It was clumsy, and uncertain, and it was only a moment before the awkward angle forced them to break apart. But Gippal was breathing a little heavier for it, and an amazed little smile tugged its way across his lips.
"Good answer." A single aqua eye searched his companion's face and trailed lower, appraising. "But why are you way up there?"
Abruptly rolling out of Baralai's lap, the Al Bhed grabbed his friend by the collar and tugged him downward, chuckling at the startled yelp that his actions yielded. And when the boy fell heavily against him and a pair of startled brown eyes were inches from his own, Gippal's grin returned in force. "That's better."
This time, it was the Al Bhed that leaned in for the kiss, and it was neither clumsy nor uncertain. Gippal knew very well the best ways to drive a person crazy with his mouth-- several of the girls and a few of the boys at Home could attest to that fact-- and if the small noise that he'd managed to wring from Baralai was any indication, he was doing a good job.
So, too, was the hand that he felt a moment later, tugging ineffectually at the collar of his shirt-- and, never one to protest the loss of clothing, Gippal reached to oblige the boy.
Using one arm to roll Baralai from the position above him, the Al Bhed lifted himself into an awkward kneeling position for just long enough to divest himself of the shirt. Much approving of the new set of circumstances, he settled himself on top of his companion with a triumphant grin. "Your turn."
Setting to work simultaneously on the boy's buttons and on exploring his mouth, Gippal allowed his free hand to push cloth aside, feeling his enthusiastic way along an expanse of dark skin. It didn't take much to realize that the unconscious shifting of Baralai's hips did little to keep his hand steady enough to tend to shirt buttons, but frankly, the friction was too great an added bonus for Gippal to break the contact.
It was just as the Al Bhed had managed to wrest the last button free and was beginning to tug his companion's shirt up by the hem that the voice came crashing into his brain.
"A moment of your time."
Starting guiltily, the two boys flew apart, red-faced, to find that Nooj and Paine were watching them from the entrance to the tent. The girl seemed more than a little amused; their commander, however, had an impatient air to both his stance and tone. Feeling his cheeks darken, Gippal realized quite suddenly that they likely hadn't heard him on the first attempt to get their attention.
"I thought you should know," Nooj told them, disapproving gaze trailing from Gippal to Baralai and back "That breakfast is soon. And that there won't be another meal until they distribute rations." With that, the man turned to leave the tent, moving with his peculiar, jerky gait.
"And," Paine flashed them a curious little smile, "That you still have fifteen minutes." With that, she hastened after their commander.
Staring after the pair with a single aqua eye wide, Gippal gave a shaky laugh. "Well," he offered, "They took that well."
Glancing over to Baralai, the Al Bhed was amused to see that the boy looked very near to suffering heart failure. His eyes were huge, mouth gaping open and closed almost imperceptibly. The expression, combined with the fact that the boy's hair was hopelessly tousled and his shirt still open, gave Gippal all the momentum he needed to assault the boy once more, pinning him to the bed in the space of approximately five seconds.
Grinning down at his captive, the Al Bhed leaned in for a kiss-- long, and slow, and insistent. The warm brown of Baralai's eyes and the feel of the boy's body underneath his was something that he'd waited for entirely too long. Shifting his hips to gain more contact, Gippal thought dimly that he'd have to do something about the infuriating cloth that was keeping skin from skin.
"Gippal," the boy gasped, voice hitching slightly as the Al Bhed broke the contact in order to trail a line of kisses down his throat. "Gippal, we shouldn't-- You h-heard…"
"Exactly," the Al Bhed purred. "You heard the girl. We still have fifteen minutes."
When the only sound that came by way of protest was the little noise as he reached Baralai's collarbone, Gippal smirked and began pressing kisses down the smooth expanse of his companion's chest.
They were almost on time for breakfast.
-owari-
Closing Notes: Plug time! For more of my work, check out www.thecastings.com. It's my joint-effort webcomic, complete with pretty boys, angst, and yaoi implications. And the art's fantastic!