GIFT-FIC FOR SCARABSI! Yay! Matthew/Guy shounen-ai goodness, all for you!
(Well, sorta . . . in the end, it's kind of one-sided . . . Eh.)
Rated for Matthew's dirty, dirty mind . . . There's nothing worth the rating here, actually.
----------------- start fic ----------------
After finishing setting up my tent, I yawned loudly. I was, strangely enough, bored. I was
really, truly bored. There hadn't been a battle for days, and my fingers were getting itchy
from the depressing lack of thieving going on. It wasn't like I hadn't tried stealing from
other members of camp, of course, but when Milord Hector had found everyone's stuff in
his pack -- an unwise place to store things, I admit -- he'd ended up giving them their stuff
back, and giving me a sound thunk on the head.
I sniffed. He obviously had no idea how hard it is to steal things around here; everyone's so
paranoid. . .
I went back to addressing my problem at hand: my boredom. Perhaps I could go to the
center of the camp and ask the tactician for something to do. . ? Ah, oh no, that wouldn't
work. Serra was somewhere near there, and the last thing I wanted to do was attract the
annoying little pink pest's attention.
Or, maybe . . . I could go and annoy Guy . . . hmm. I felt a catty grin spread across my face.
Ah yes, Guy. Why the idea hadn't occured to me first thing was strange indeed, since being
Guy's personal plague had become my favorite pastime of late. Annoying Guy was always
fun; he never failed to react in new and amusing ways.
My grin widened involuntarily . . . Not to mention, he was rather pretty. I wonder how he'd
react if I told him that. Guy could, I guess, be called 'handsome,' in the same way that Lucius
could be called such, but 'Pretty' was just a far more fitting word. Yes, he was very pretty,
what with his braid, slender form, and impossibly huge eyes.
Of course, while his speeches on 'honor this' and 'injustice that' could be a little bothersome,
overall . . . the aspiring swordmaster made the perfect, ahem, 'victim.'
So, I folded my hands behind my head as I walked, and began to whistle lightly as I made
my way through the camp. No rush here, of course. I wasn't avoiding anybody at the moment,
which was something to revel in since someone always found a reason to try and attack me.
Stopping, I looked over a tent. Guy should be around here somewhere, actually. My
heightened perceptions as a thief told me this, and I was confident enough in them to wait
there until Guy made himself known. I, luckily, didn't have to wait very long.
"Hey, w-wait up!" I heard Guy's voice wail loudly. I turned, to see Guy jogging by. I grinned
at him, expecting him any moment to notice me and give a cry of dismay, or something similar.
Guy . . . just kept running, right past me.
This was slightly more then alarming. What? What was Guy doing that needed so much of
his attention that he could just . . . just . . . ignore me like that? I'm not used to being ignored
unless I want to be ignored. I immediately began to follow him, slipping into stealth mode
by sheer reflex.
"Master!" Guy skidded to a stop, panting lightly. "M-Master Karel!"
Now THAT had me interested, to say the least. Why in the world would Guy be calling Karel
'master?' This was something I hadn't come across before; Guy was looking up at Karel with
something akin to . . . admiration.
I wondered vaguely if this had anything to do with my sudden urge to stab Karel.
Watching carefully, I ducked slightly as Karel turned to his right and eyed Guy. There was
something . . . off, with Karel, as he seemed to be judging Guy by just how fast he could turn
him into a side of beef. ". . . What?" The swordmaster asked tersely, before turning back to
the sword he was polishing.
Guy looked incredably awkward. And I do mean, more awkward then he usually is. "Uh . . ."
He swallowed, his blue eyes shutting for a short moment. "About last night . . ." he trailed off
uncertainly.
I blinked. Numerous times. Last . . . night?
. . .Master Karel?
I pieced this information together accordingly. . . I'd known to begin with that Guy worshipped
the ground Karel walked on, but was Guy actually . . . doing . . . THAT with him? What could
you expect me to think? The pieces fit, and I'm a healthy, albeit hormonal, twenty-one year old.
I prayed to St. Elimine that I had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
And, not to mention, to help me control this strange, sudden urge of mine to not only stab Karel,
but stab him repeatedly.
"Yes?" The elder swordmaster hadn't looked up from his polishing, and the myrmidon scratched
the back of his neck bashfully, peering at his feet with sudden interest, fingers fiddling with the
fringe of his blue robe.
"Uh . . ." Guy muttered, forcing me to put my strain my sensitive hearing to listen. He asked
almost timidly -- Guy? Timid? -- with a slight tinge of hope, "I-It was great and all, but could
you not be so rough next time?"
Well, that clinched it. St. Elimine must not have been very happy with me. I hadn't done anything
to deserve this! Unless you count that one time where I'd planted one of Vaida's javelin's on
Heath -- He'd jumped at every small noise since, convinced Bern was after him -- but that was
just a joke! Then, of course, there was the gratuitous thieving, the countless enemy troops I'd
killed . . . OK, maybe I did deserve it. A tiny bit . . . I'd figure it out later.
Along with why the whole affair was bugging me so much. . . . and why Karel was looking more
and more like a suitable target in my dagger throwing practice. . .
Currently, though, said target was ignoring Guy, scratching absentmindedly at a dent in his Wo
Dao.
For Guy, this wasn't very encouraging. "Er . . ." He fidgeted with his robe some more. "I mean,
I'm sore in places I didn't know I had." Guy admitted. (At this point I can't really be blamed for
my sudden onslaught of mental images.) He looked up nervously. "You're a great teacher,
b-but . . . I d-don't know if I'll be up to doing as much . . ." Guy swallowed. ". . . tonight."
. . . Oh.
. . . I really, really didn't need to know that.
At this, Karel looked down at him, sniffing condescendingly. ". . . It would be insulting to go
easy on you."
"Yeah, but . . ." The blue-clad swordsman faltered. ". . . It was like you were actually trying to
stab me to death."
My mental images suddenly became a great deal more . . . graphic. Of course, the sudden
nosebleed didn't help either, and I scrambled in my cloak for a spare handkerchief to staunch
the flow. . . Apparently, listening to this conversation wasn't very healthy, but I found myself
leaning closer anyway. I blame the nosebleed.
Karel deigned to give a response this time. "You are," he raised an eyebrow appraisingly, "too
energetic to kill just yet."
Guy blinked." . . . uh, sure . . ." I was both appalled and relieved at that last remark of
Karel's; it was more like the Karel I was used to. Guy's following statement had the . . .
ah, opposite effect.
" . . .But like I said, I don't think I'll be a worthy partner tonight."
Worthy partner? I was having trouble deciding which I wanted to do more: jump Karel and
knife him, or jump Guy and . . . er . . . I stifled my cough at this thought. Best not to go down
that road, just yet.
Karel tossed his hair, almost whapping Guy in the face. "Then find another, and come back
tomorrow," Karel said harshly, before sheathing his sword with a harsh metallic rasp and
standing.
Karel had no business shoving Guy around like that! There was no possible way the assertive
myrmidon was going to take that sitting down.
To no small amount of surprise, Guy merely looked up thoughtfully. "I . . . guess Matthew
would be ok, although I kinda hate to ask him about something like this . . ."
. . . WHAT? Well . . uh . . . I looked around behind me in a swift check. Had I heard that
right? I mean, hell no, I wouldn't mind, but . . . how did Guy know I swung that way? Was
it my hair or my pants?
I completely missed the last part of Guy and Karel's little conversation, due to my sudden
coughing fit. The most untimely thing in the world, let me tell you, because Guy happened
to look up and notice me.
"Oh, M-Matthew!" He squeaked, as Karel snorted and headed into his tent, leaving me and
Guy alone. Ooh, convienient.
Looking around for any possible onlookers, Guy swallowed and blinked at me. "Uh . . .
hey there?" He winced at his admittedly pathetic approach.
"Yesss?" I said, drawing out the word and looking at him through lowered lids.
"Uh . . . listen there's something I . . ." Guy stopped, before looking at me more closely.
" . . . er, did you have a nosebleed earlier?"
"Hm?" . . . Oh, flux. I rubbed at my face hastily with the end of my cape, managing to seem
casual. "Oh, yes. Little mistake, that."
"Right . . ." Guy trailed off, looking suitably nervous for the occasion. "But, uh . . . like I said,
I was wondering if tonight, you and I could . . ." he faltered, and exhaled with a small laugh.
"Damn, this is embarrassing to ask," he admitted with a tiny half-smile.
"No need," I gave him my trademark grin, thoroughly enjoying his uncomfort. "I happened to,
ah, 'overhear' you and Karel speaking just now."
"Oh." Guy blinked, looking doubtful. Not the look I was expecting, honestly, but maybe he
was just insecure. "And . . you don't mind? Just for tonight, I mean?"
My grin widened of it's own accord. "Of course not," I purred, in as low a voice as possible.
"Oh, good," Guy said relievedly. "I mean, it's hard finding a decent opponent around here."
. . . opponent? I schooled my face blank. . . . what?
Guy rambled on, oblivious to my confusion. "Seriously, everyone either already has a sparring
partner, or is impossible to approach. Like Rath, he's --"
"Wait," I interrupted haltingly, a sudden sinking feeling settling uncomfortably in my stomach.
". . . You want me to be your . . . sparring partner?" I hesitated. " . . . That's what you were
talking to Karel about, he's who you usually fight?"
"Er . . . well, yeah." Guy tilted his head at me guilelessly. "What'd you think we were talking
about?"
I only blinked in response.
. . . well, damn.
---------------------------------------------------------
Eh heh heh . . . This is my favorite One-Shot I've EVER written, to date. . . I think I might
continue this. Since, you know, the word count is depressingly low, and I'm not so evil as to
leave Matthew on the proverbial couch.