Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X-2, or any Final Fantasy game whatsoever. Sadly, SquareEnix has the credit and the money while I have nothing but dirty socks.
Warning: Yaoi, possible yuri, sexual themes and horrible humor. You have been warned…
Thanks to Kimi for being my beta-reader.
A/N: Wow. I'm alive. Surprising, huh?
Sorry about the horrendous delay! My excuse? Finals. Yeah. And even if none of you bought that, they're over, so hopefully updates will go by faster now, seeing as it's summer break and I, being the loser that I am, have nothing else to do. I'm tempted to put in a date for the next chapter, though I don't think I will; there's a large chance that it might take a few more weeks. No point in raising spirits and then crushing them, right? Though that can be fun occasionally…
Well, I've finally gotten this chapter out and written. This is the turning point, people! Yeah, another reason it was so difficult to write was because of Gippal's now more positive emotions… well, wait. You'll see.
Anyhoo, thanks loads to the people who've reviewed, and especially those who reviewed for every chapter I've put out so far. It really means a lot to me; they were wonderful. Hopefully all of you will enjoy this chapter, seeing as it took me ages to write. Feel free to drop a review, seeing as I'm a sucker for them. Constructive criticism is welcome.
Please read: Oh, and hopefully you all will take some time to refer to the second footnote on the bottom — I'm counting on you guys to give me some opinions!
The Art of Deception
Natsue Arishima
Phase Three: Initiating the Sham
Gippal woke suddenly the next morning with two very clear, alarming, and totally irrelevant thoughts in his mind. One; that his body felt like every inch of it was being stabbed by white-hot knives and would most likely hurt for the rest of the week, and two; he had really liked kissing Baralai. And seeing as he wasn't supposed to like kissing a certain silver-haired praetor, or even men in general, the second conclusion positively frightened him. No, 'frightened' was an understatement. He was terrified.
So it was quite understandable when the blond jerked up, stared wildly around the room, charged into the bathroom he had not noticed before in a second flat, and slammed the door behind him. Add the sounds of splashing water, retching, and curses, and five minutes later, the Al Bhed stepped back over the threshold as if nothing had happened, lazily making his way back to his mattress and collapsing on top of it with a disjointed grunt.
After tossing and turning for five minutes, Gippal realized that he just couldn't get it out of his head.
He could blame it on nothing else except for the fact that perhaps not getting laid for four days had somehow mussed up all the hormones and chemicals and crap that determined a person's sexuality. Yes, that was it. Simple, really. Yet, even with that reassuring thought in mind, his body refused to let him go back to sleep.
After physically pounding his head and still unable to get the sensation of Baralai's lips out of his mind (so n — wait… no! Must… fight… the evil…) the blond gave up and grabbed his eye patch, snapping it on sharply. The sting sent him into a momentary daze, of which he was shaken out of when he caught his foot in the bedsheets, twisted his ankle, and crashed sideways onto the floor. Muttering curses, the blond jerked up and stomped towards a silken curtain, yanking them open irritably and nearly shrieking at the sudden light that assaulted his eyes. Sunlight bad, artificial light good… and with a hiss he retreated from the window like a nighttime creature experiencing its first magical and horrid glimpse of day.
Yes, Gippal was now one-hundred percent awake and not liking a single moment of it.
Cowering under his blanket and squinting so fiercely that the only clear figures he could make out were the shapes of his eyelashes, the Al Bhed glanced towards the window again before shutting his eyes tightly. Judging from the sun's position against the darkness of his eyelids, it was most likely around eight.
Eight, and he was horribly awake.
Gippal never woke up at eight.
It was blasphemous.
Five minutes later, he had somehow forced himself back to sleep, so that by the time the praetor came up later at around noon, the silver-haired youth had to literally sit on the other in order to wake him up (throwing pillows and water spells had no effect whatsoever). The blond had no recollection whatsoever of his previous thoughts and actions; he was too intent on the lovely silver-haired "girl" on top of him to bother with them anyway, eyes drowsy with sleep.
"Why, hello there," he purred. Baralai blinked.
Grope.
Squeak. Shriek. Slap.
That was really all it took to get him up and awake again.
The force of Baralai's open-palmed smack sent him skidding off his collection of blankets and into the wall, adding a new set of bruises to his other ones from the night before. Swearing rather loudly while rubbing the hand-shaped welt on his cheek, the Al Bhed jerked his head up, glaring sharply between limp blond strands at a sheepish-looking praetor sitting innocently on his mattress.
Damn Bevellians…
"Sorry. Hand slipped," Baralai explained, grinning nervously.
Seeing the venomous look in a livid, blue eye, the praetor decided he'd done enough in this room, springing up and dashing out the door. He was about to shut it when it blasted open again, Gippal towering murderously above him like Sin crawling out of smoke.
The horror.
"You call this a 'slip'?" the blond shrieked indignantly, pointing to his new, bulbous facial features. "You sent me flying into the wall! You call that a simple 'SLIP'?" His anger momentarily subsided as he awkwardly cradled his cheek. "My poor face…"
"Now now, Gippal, it was just an little accident."
"Accident my ass! And don't you go start talking to me like I'm a stupid two-year-old!"
"Hey, it was self-defense, alright?"
"Bah!"
"Besides, you had no right to grope me!"
Baralai watched, surprised and curious as Gippal sputtered, blinked, and finally seemed to understand what he was talking about, promptly giving a new definition to the expression 'red as an apple.' Sighing softly and unable to conceal his smile, the praetor shook his head and flicked imaginary lint from the blond's shoulder. "What's this, a blush I see?" he teased. He'd forgotten how adorable the other could be, seeing how the blond was usually either screaming or chasing after some random girl like a rabid animal.
Glaring to one side, the Al Bhed huffed. "Why were you in my room anyway?"
"One night and you're already claiming this room as your own? A bit rash, don't you think?" Cocking his head to a side, Baralai crossed his arms. "I thought you'd be interested in breakfast. Well, wait…" He checked his watch. "Correction, lunch. I left some extra downstairs in the kitchen."
The blond perked up at the mention of food.
"But if you insist on your beauty sleep, I guess I'll just finish it up myself," the silver-haired man continued listlessly, turning and walking slowly down the hall with a smile. As if Gippal would ever be able to resist food. The smile turned into a soft laugh as his pace turned into that of a light jog, before it turned into an all-out sprint as Gippal dashed out behind him.
"Too slow, praetor," the blond called out snarkily, flashing his companion a victory-V as he zoomed by. "Not like I forgive you or anything, though if the food's good, I'll make exceptions." The Al Bhed turned sharply at the stairs, jumped onto the banister, and slid down its length, dismounting with alarming skill and grace at the bottom before skidding around and skating down the hallway on top of a Persian rug.
Behind him, Baralai chuckled and shook his head, watching the Al Bhed charge into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers. He decided to not reveal the fact that there were already movers in the house.
After arriving to a kitchen full of large, bulky and bored-looking men, Gippal had spun around on his heel with all his previous fierce determination and streamed back down the hall, passed a grinning Baralai, rampaged up the stairs, and zoomed back into his room. Today was definitely not his day. Then again, thinking back over his most recent memories, the past four days hadn't really been a ball either. And considering the constant and continuous trend, it was likely that this week, too, would prove to be terrifying.
Why him? Of all people, why did it have to be him? Someone else should have to suffer through addicted fans; through devil girls; through passing as gay; through rampaging into a room full of massive men clothed in nothing but underwear… They could have at least been women. Even demented monkeys would have been better, but no, they just had to have been big, unintelligent beings whose only infatuations were with pieces of furniture.
Okay, so normally he wouldn't have really minded that much, but for some strange reason, the fact that he was supposed to be gay for a week had somehow raised his self-consciousness around men. And besides, the movers had been scary-looking.
Sighing, he blinked blearily around the room. Screw dramatizing; he needed to change. Dropping onto his mattress, he spotted his bag and frowned. His head swiveled back to the bathroom door, glimpsing a marble sink and the glint of glass from a shower door.
Scratch that. He needed a shower.
He stripped off his… only article of clothing… and dumped it onto the ground as he proceeded towards the door. The bathroom itself wasn't as impressive as Baralai's (then again, it had been the master's bedroom) though it was large and spacious enough to satisfy his desperate needs. Locating the towels, he grabbed one and dropped it on top of the toilet lid along with his eye patch, marched over to the shower, stepped inside, and turned the water on, closing the sliding door behind him.
His bad luck struck once again when the moderately warm water instantly increased to a killer temperature. Yelping, he jumped forward, nearly smacked his face into the wall on account of losing his balance on the wet floor, and groped wildly for the knob, the non-burnt part of his brain registering the sensation of cool metal under his fingers with happy detachment. He twisted it sharply, and when the water continued to assault him with no change in heat, he gave up completely and slammed his fist against the protruding and dysfunctional object, bruising his hand but effectively stopping the flow of water all the same, which ended with a quiet hiss.
Sighing, he relaxed. Well hadn't that been ever so enjoyable. There was nothing better than a scalding hot shower at degrees capable of burning fingers off.
There was a muffled shout downstairs, and from what little snatches of conversation he caught, the blond realized that either by a wrestling match or drunken impulse to ballroom dance, a person or persons had hit one of the sinks, bent the tap, and ruptured a water pipe.
Joy. Of all bizarre and deranged things…
Tentatively, he turned on the water again, wincing as he inched out his hand, waiting for the burn, the heat… and was greeted with blissfully cool water. He almost melted in relief.
Thirty minutes later (he would have gone on longer, too, had he not considered and pitied the large bill Baralai would have been receiving at the end of the month if he had continued), Gippal turned off the shower, grabbed his towel, and began drying himself off. Feeling slightly better and with a clearer mind, he began his morning ritual once again, brushing his teeth, scrubbing his face, and preening and pampering his face for a full ten minutes.
Flamboyancy now content, he did a double take, winked at his expression, and then strolled out of the bathroom with the towel hanging loosely from his hips, whistling the tune of Spira's top hit, "1000 Words", which in itself was rather ironic, seeing as how Yuna had given the world premiere to a group of people who had no idea what was going on in the first place.
His warbling trailed off into silence as he blinked at his guest.
Staring out the window with a rather bored expression on his face was Baralai, twirling a strand of hair nonchalantly around a finger.
The praetor turned when Gippal's last few notes died off completely, raising an eyebrow at the faltering blond. "What? And here I was, thinking you'd finish your little ditty." He brushed a strand of silver hair out of his eyes, sending a wry grin at his companion. "You were two keys off, by the way."
Regaining his ability to talk, the Al Bhed jerked back, nearly sending his towel to the floor in the process (the praetor coughed and tried to look uninterested). "Wha — how long have you been here anyway?" His eyes narrowed.
"Since you began primping yourself, humble fop."
The blond blinked again before smirking. "Nothing comes without a price, you know," he replied smoothly, running a hand through his hair as he winked at his companion. "How else do you think I got this good looking? Work! I mean, what else is there?"
"Plastic surgery?" the praetor offered dryly.
"…"
There was a rustle behind him as Gippal finished the final touches to his garb. Giving the blond several more seconds (Baralai wasn't too keen on turning around to see a half naked Al Bhed; he wasn't sure what he'd do as a result, probably either scream and run out or lunge and never let go), the praetor shut his eyes as he pulled himself out of his previous thoughts.
"Right." Behind him, the blond cleared his throat, retrieving a brush from his bag and running it through his hair. Baralai turned and watched as Gippal carefully fastened his usual small clips onto his sideburns. The action was done in such a fluent manner that almost surprised the praetor; since when was Gippal graceful with anything? (Women, maybe, and machina, but that was it…) "So?" the blond prompted after running the brush once more through his hair. "Did you want anything?"
Pulling his eyes away from golden sideburns, Baralai smiled faintly. "What, do I need an excuse to walk into a room in my own house?"
"Well, if you put it that way…"
The praetor rolled his eyes. "I actually brought some food up here, seeing as you were kept from yours by an… untimely disturbance." He nodded towards a plate perched evenly on top of Gippal's mattress.
Turning to eye it, the blond grinned. "Aw, aren't you the perfect little housewife? You wanna do my hair for me too?" he cooed. Baralai literally bristled at the statement.
"Watch it," he murmured dangerously. "I'm in very nice slapping range right now."
The Al Bhed laughed, plopping onto the ground and digging into his omelet. Baralai remained by the window for a while more, watching the other eat with a comfortable detachment, until said other patted the ground besides him, leaving the praetor no choice, but to sit down besides him as well, which he did after a moment's thought. The room soon settled with friendly silence.
Registering the soft press of eyes against his head, Gippal paused in his small meal and looked up to see the praetor staring at him, though considering his slightly distant expression, probably not really seeing him either. The blond shook his head. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly wondering whether or not Baralai really slept at night. He seemed like one of those worrywarts who never rested at all. One of those forever-awake people.
He shook his head, all of a sudden feeling pity he was sure wasn't needed.
Baralai's blank gaze had dropped to the plate, eyes clouded with thought.
"What, you hungry too?" the Al Bhed teased, waving his hand in front of Baralai's face and effectively shaking the praetor out of his daze, who blinked, blushed (or so the blond assumed, seeing as it was almost impossible to distinguish any change in color from such a dark face) and turned away.
Gippal raised his eyebrows.
Baralai ignored him, picking at his fingernails.
"Well, seeing as you brought it up to me in the first place…" the Al Bhed muttered before grinning and forking up some of the food. He held it out to the praetor. "Here."
His eyes resting on the offending piece of egg, Baralai swallowed, unsure on how to react: either eat it or reject it. He picked the latter, and narrowing his eyes, stated flatly, "I'm not hungry." When the fork didn't waver, and when Gippal continued to gaze at him unblinkingly with that same annoying yet horribly nice smile, the praetor hesitated before leaning forward. Seeing no faltering within his companion's posture, Baralai paused before taking the portion of omelet carefully off the fork with his teeth, taking care to touch the piece of silverware as little as possible.
He pulled back cautiously and the fork retreated as well, diving back into the plate's contents before being raised back to the blond's own mouth. Baralai twitched. Gippal was so unpredictable sometimes, he mused to himself, chewing thoughtfully.
Maybe Gippal didn't know it himself, but many of the blond's unconscious actions were… well… Baralai refused to use the word "gay" as a description. More like… open. Yes. Open. Today wasn't exactly a first either; two years ago, Baralai had noticed it as well, which was perhaps the reason he had begun liking the other in the first place, hoping that maybe he actually had a chance. Though this chance had usually eroded away when the blond zoned in seconds later and thought over his actions, limiting them to women, and women only. Which had always left the praetor-to-be feeling dumb and unreasonably angry, so angry in fact that he had knocked out one out of every five dates that the blond picked up (accidentally, of course).
A curious man, that Gippal.
The following minutes passed in silence, the blond filling his stomach, the silver-haired man deep in thought with his eyes closed, arms crossed. The two of them were dimly aware of the scuffle of voices below, the dull strain of wood on wood as the movers continued their monotonous work.
There was a light clink as Gippal finally set down his fork, plate polished to a shine. He stretched loudly, rubbed his arm, and leaned onto his side, elbow on the mattress and head on his palm, as he examined the praetor, debated with himself, and cleared his throat expectantly. Best get things cleared out now. There was no better time for it.
"Hey, 'Lai?"
Eyelids fluttered open, dark lashes hiding bronze eyes.
"Hmm?" the silver-haired man replied lazily, reaching forward and flicking off a piece of egg from the corner of Gippal's mouth, who made a face. Baralai smiled innocently.
Wiping his mouth with his own hand, just in case any other egg specks remained, before scratching his eye patch, the Al Bhed continued his verbal train of thought. "We haven't finished our talk yet."
Though he didn't specify what he was thinking of, Baralai knew what he was talking about instantly.
"Ah," he said lightly. "That."
"You make it sound like death or something…"
The praetor grinned, shifting to rest his back against the mattress. Out of range from Gippal's vision, his smile dropped. That. Their guidelines, their rules. Over Gippal's favor in order to keep Devon forever out of his life. Not death, exactly, but it was still painful, and still held a grudge.
"Anyway," the blond continued matter-of-factly, leaning back and resting his head on his arms. He didn't catch the sudden stiffness of Baralai's figure. "Be serious, alright? We really need to do this, otherwise we won't have a chance, and then I'll be screwed over for who knows how long."
Baralai scoffed. I'll be screwed over for an eternity as well… Even with yesterday, with that one kiss. That one fake kiss. He had almost murdered Gippal right then and there. And that had been only with one little fake kiss. Imagine what a week would do…
Stop it. He shook his head. It's for Gippal, he reminded himself. There was no time to do this now; no time to doubt.
He'd just try to enjoy it while it lasted (hey, there was no law against it), and though it might still hurt in the long run, he knew it wouldn't be that hard to do. Damn hormones. Sighing, he turned and raised a hand towards the other, motioning with a finger for him to come closer. Gippal cocked his head to one side, edging closer at the seriousness in the praetor's eyes, who opened his mouth, paused, and flicked the blond sharply on the head.
The blond jerked back in surprise, ushering a small yelp as he rubbed the small welt on his forehead. "That was cruel, man! Getting me all wound up like that and then, wham! Too cruel…"
Baralai smiled sweetly, not in the least bit regretting his last move. "Tell me again why I'm helping you. For free, too."
The blond glanced warily at him. "Because you're such a good friend. And besides, I'm tight on money right now."
"Yeah right. The day Pacce turns into a girl, maybe."
Gippal grinned. "Pretty close off then, isn't it?" He dodged a swipe from the praetor. "Okay, to start off, if you ever consider like you don't feel like continuing, just tell me about it, hear? I don't want to make you get all touchy and sentimental; that's just plain unnatural."
"You've been practicing this, haven't you?"
"Yeah, a little. You could tell? Damn. I slurred it, didn't I?"
"It wasn't horrible. A little slurred, a little rushed, but not bad. Though perhaps next time you should consider leaving out the big words. You know, the ones with more than one syllable. It kind of gave you away."
Gippal stuck out his tongue.
"Two," he growled, "we have to get more used to each other. You know, not just friend stuff. It's gotta be convincing, right? So we've got to act like, well, a couple. We have to talk right, look right, touch right, and kiss right." Gippal paused and turned ever so slightly to his companion, surprised at how odd it felt to be saying things this plainly to his weeklong partner-to-be. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baralai's eyebrow go up in its typical raise. Licking his lips, the blond pondered on how to continue. Fortunately for him, Baralai unknowingly made things easier by bringing up the topic himself.
"One, you've already told me all of this. And two, you make it sound like we're going to be practicing," the praetor mused, gazing at the ceiling nonchalantly.
Gippal swallowed.
Silence.
"We're not going to be practicing, are we?"
More silence.
"We are, aren't we," the praetor muttered dryly, shooting the blond a dirty glare.
Gippal grinned at him, albeit weakly. "What else can we do?" the Al Bhed asked quietly, surprised he wasn't melting under such a venomous scowl.
Baralai bit his lip before sighing, turning back to his fingernails and acting unconcerned, though inside, he was seething. What had he gotten himself into? Kissing with Gippal? Even more, practicing? There'd be hugging and touching too, he'd bet. This was absolutely absurd! Not even Pacce's odd request for monkeys had been this odd.
"Only for a little bit. Besides, not like practices, really, just acting and squeezing in as much as possible so we'll be used to it once Sunday hits. It's not going to be, like, little practice sections, just… you know…" the blond added hastily as he spotted the array of emotions in the praetor's eyes. "Just a week, Baralai, please? I'll never ask anything of you again. Just this once."
Baralai scoffed softly, turning to look the blond straight in the eye. "I didn't say I was backing out, did I?" His companion blinked before breaking out into a dazzling grin. "Thanks, 'Lai," the blond replied, honestly and truthfully.
Propping himself onto his elbows once more, the blond ushered Baralai closer before informing him of his plans for Sunday. The praetor listened with rapt attention and slight doubt, though in the end gave up his questions and protests for his trust for Gippal, since, although it had wavered occasionally in the past (mostly over the matter of women), this was a time where he knew that it was all he had to rely on. Sure, Gippal hadn't been exactly honest that one time in Kilika, and sure, he hadn't exactly gone chocobo hunting during that incident in the Calm Lands, and he hadn't been one hundred percent clear for that one time one year one place, but when the blond was serious, his word was law.
And Gippal sure as Yevon was serious now.
It was alarming, how absurd and out of place it all seemed. Half the time, Baralai half expected himself to wake up, to pull away from this bizarre, incoherent, and completely random dream. But when a break finally did come, it wasn't from himself blissfully awakening; merely the dull throb of the doorbell below them, followed by heavy footsteps, a click of doors opening, and the beginning of what he assumed were the movers' ritual of welcome, with grunts, punches, chest-thumping, and all.
Shaking his head slightly, the praetor pulled back, Gippal sending him one last intense glance before his eyes darted towards the (open… dear god, had he stripped with it open?) door and down the hallway. The two of them remained silent for several seconds until it was clear that Baralai's new visitor had no intention to march up the stairs.
Standing up and stretching slightly, Gippal strode over to the hallway, peeking out and around just in case. He couldn't believe they had just revealed their plan (not to mention his body) to the entire world; how the hell had he not seen the open door, wide and ajar and practically screaming for attention? Hell, it was like overlooking a naked, sexy model. Slapping himself on the forehead (and struck with a sudden image of previously mentioned model), he gave himself several seconds to daydream before shutting the door and returning back to his mattress.
Baralai raised both eyebrows, letting the atmosphere settle once more before voicing the one question that was bothering him: "Are you positive that this'll work?"
Gippal looked at him as if he had just sprouted antlers. "Uh, duh." He shook his head, letting out a small sigh. "There's a hundred percent guarantee. Are you still doubting it, even with my wits on your side?"
"That's what I'm afraid of," the praetor mused dryly.
"What's that?" the blond asked, scratching his ear.
"I said excellent plan-out."
"I know. Isn't it?" The Al Bhed leaned back, narrowly avoiding a backside of scrambled egg. Baralai coughed, rolling his eyes. "So for such a faultless plan, when are we starting these practices, exactly?" he asked sarcastically.
"I was planning now, if you didn't mind. And they're not practices."
Baralai's eyes widened in horror. So much for a rhetorical question…
Swallowing back faint surprise, the ex-summoner of Bevelle gazed around and down Baralai's bare hallway, and the heavy clumps of men it possessed. Coughing faintly, and feigning mute happiness as said men turned and grunted at him, he held up his hands and stepped backwards slightly, a strained smile on his face. Behind him, Maroda raised an eyebrow and Pacce cocked his head, darting out behind his two brothers in attempts to see what was going on and unfortunately running smack into a chiseled wal — man, resulting in heavy back pats and mumbles of greeting.
The summoner rubbed his temples before resting his head on his hand. In his time, movers had been slow enough. Nowadays, it seemed their brains had been reduced to specks. (1)
Stepping back over the threshold with a rustle of robes, Isaaru waited for the sudden action to subside before turning to ask a nearby man where the praetor was; he had just barely voiced his question before his ears caught a faint rumble of amused laughter.
"You won't get any straight answers from them. They're here for work, and work only."
Isaaru turned, shrugging aside several strands of hair from his eyes. Several steps away from him and leaning against the banister was what he assumed to be the Mover-In-Command. At least the man looked relatively intelligent, with his sharp, green eyes and narrow face surrounded by a mane of sloppy yet almost elegant red hair, voice surprisingly light for such a heavy-set figure. As he watched, the man slipped a hand in his shirt pocket, pulled out a match, stuck it between his lips, and began chewing on it.
"I take it you ain't here for the movin'," the redhead said in an accented voice, straightening and offering his hand. Isaaru examined it for a moment before extending his own. "Djara Ithin," (2) the man stated pleasantly, the name ringing a faint bell in the summoner's mind, Baralai having informed him of the man in question a couple of days ago. "And you must be Isaaru. Pleased to meet ya."
The praetor raised a suspicious eyebrow.
"Your robes kinda gave it away."
"Ah…"
"So," Djara continued, crossing his eyes and blowing a strand of his sleek red hair out of his face. Isaaru blinked, vaguely amused. "You lookin' for the praetor?"
Still standing in the doorway, Maroda crossed his arms and nodded curtly, leaning against the wooden frame. "Yeah. Is he out?"
The redhead turned questioningly at him. "Weren't talkin' to ya, were I?"
The black-haired man blinked, almond-eyes wide, slightly taken back, before he spotted the lanky and teasing grin.
"Nah, kiddin'," the redhead slurred. Still hesitating slightly, Maroda scoffed, and then rolled his eyes, smiling faintly as Djara extended his hand to him as well, surprisingly soft for those of a daily worker.
'Slacker' was the first word that popped into Maroda's head.
"Oh, and uh… 'bout the door. The paint's still a bit wet."
Maroda blinked and looked down, noticing for that his arm was indeed covered in a shining coat of white paint. He stared at it for several more seconds, turned and examined the arm-shaped blot of mussed paint of the doorframe, sighed, and made his way to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, "So, wait, Baralai's here, right?"
"It's his house, ain't it?" the redhead drawled, match wobbling precariously. Chewing sticks were probably a habit however, since the match never once faltered enough to fall.
"He's upstairs right now. Don't suppose you guys would mind waitin' for a while, hmm? I mean, it's not everyday the praetor himself gets a week off from his job, and I'm sure as hell not goin' up there to retrieve him. The guy deserves some rest." He glanced back towards Isaaru, who shook his head, and at Pacce, who was looking rather harassed among a large group of men. Laughing again, the redhead whipped a towel out of nowhere, slung it over his shoulders, and proceeded to the kitchen.
"You aren't just saying that because he's paying you, correct?" Isaaru asked wryly as he followed him.
Djara smirked, looking back over his shoulder. "Of course not." His eyes gleamed. Pushing himself up lightly with surprising grace onto the counter, the man rubbed his head before yawning, spitting the match into the sink. The summoner decided not to mention that he was sitting on the stove.
With a final stretch, the redhead clapped his hands together. "Awright. Since the praetor won't be down for a while, you can help us move while you're waitin'."
Behind him, Isaaru heard Maroda's small intake of breath. "Um… no thanks, really, I mean, you guys seem to have everything under control…" His words slowly trailed away when he realized that the other wasn't backing down one bit. Sighing, the black-haired man slumped his head in defeat as Pacce too began his string of sputtering and excuses, all of which happened to lead to his untimely death.
"No really, I insist," Djara murmured smoothly, grinning. Hopping back down from the counter, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, successfully tangling it within the red mass. Cursing slightly, he nodded towards his left with his chin. "Oh, and I hope your bro knows that he'd responsible for repaintin' that door. And as for moving, there's some problems with getting two king's up the stairs."
"Er…" was all he managed to say, face hot and mind racing. Panicking slightly, he attempted to say something with his usual indifference, but to no avail; his mind remained blank with shock. Next to him, Gippal quirked his eyebrow at the other's sudden silence. Cocking his head to a side, the blond rolled his eyes before leaning forward, resting his forehead against the other's. Several strands of silver whispered against his skin, brushing his cheeks. The Al Bhed bit back a smile.
"Oy…" he drawled. When the praetor still did not respond, the Al Bhed's face furrowed in slight worry. "What, you don't mind, do you?" Gippal questioned slowly, promptly waving his hand in front of Baralai's face, who in turn took several minutes to respond.
"Huh… I —" was all he managed to say. Gippal coughed.
What a keen praetor, really.
Perhaps that would explain Bevelle's odd inhabitants.
Gippal sighed, rubbing his hands together. It wasn't that he'd never seen Baralai paralyzed with such shock before; he had, on those rare and limited occasions, and knew perfectly well how to snap the other out of it. One, shove a number of ice cubes down Baralai's pants; two, give Baralai an atomic wedgie; or three, the simple yet effective bitch slap. However, getting the praetor out of his trance wasn't the unusual part. What Gippal puzzled over was the reason Baralai was acting like this in the first place: the only times the praetor had ever been this out of it had typically revolved around alcohol, strip clubs, and the occasional rabid chocobo.
The praetor must really hate this whole ordeal.
The blond's hair wilted a little. It was disappointing, he'd admit, but if Baralai was going to drag himself through the entire week, he might as well call it off. Sure, he'd have Devon after him (he cowered a little at the thought), but there was bound to be other (harder and longer) ways to get away from her. Far away.
Nothing he couldn't handle.
Even so, Gippal felt horribly… Well, he didn't know exactly. It was an odd emotion, almost exactly like… emptiness? The blond shook his head. He had looked forward to getting rid of the devil woman with a friend at his side.
Well, life wasn't exactly fair, was it?
Running his hand through his hair, the blond nodded to himself. Sure, it was depressing knowing that Baralai was basically killing himself over the task of acting gay (he wouldn't be that bad of a boyfriend, right?), but what was even more saddening was the fact that the praetor hadn't said anything about it. Gippal was a flamboyant and selfish guy, but even he had enough heart in him to gain sense when it came to friendship.
Especially that of Baralai.
Right.
Now, just one problem left: getting the praetor back into the living realm.
Biting his lip slightly, the blond hesitated before he braced himself for any sudden and violent retaliation, gripped the other's shoulders lightly, and pondered over his actions once more, until his mind settled on its previous notation and he proceeded to shake every speck of life from the silver-haired man.
The action was highly effective.
Gippal wouldn't have been surprised if he'd be sporting Baralai's handprint of his face for the rest of the day.
Rubbing his cheek and cursing loudly, the blond staggered backwards and glared daggers at the praetor, who was blinking innocently and apparently had no idea what he had just done. Turning from his hand, Gippal's cheek, and finally to the murderous look in a blue eye, faint comprehension dawned on him, and Baralai laughed weakly, scooting backwards on his bottom when the Al Bhed's hands began to twitch, as if longing to wrap around his neck.
Two times in one day… it was enough to drive anyone insane.
"Right," the blond hissed past gritted teeth. Shutting his eyes darkly, he sat on his hands, fighting the urge to strangle his companion in fury, and pondered for a few seconds. His anger suddenly faded as he licked his lips nervously, for some reason not knowing what to say. He knew, despite Baralai's rather innocent demeanor, that the praetor was a proud person, and proud people never backed out of any ordeal if it meant admitting weakness.
Afraid he just might get another handprint to match with the first, Gippal shook his head. He'd risk it, as long as he got things straight. He'd rather a handprint than scorching guilt.
Watching him rather warily, Baralai frowned. "Gippal?" he questioned timidly, inching forward a tiny bit, yet not enough to invade the blond's personal bubble; the threat of death still hung sharply in the air.
The blond sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking highly distressed. He licked his lips again, slowly, and Baralai, face heating up ever so slightly, forced himself to look at anything else but the Al Bhed's tongue.
Gippal caught the praetor's sudden jerky shift, and interpreting it to his own beliefs, forced himself to speak up. "You know," the Al Bhed started slowly, "it won't really bother me that much if you… you know…"
No, Baralai did not know, and he politely informed Gippal so, still staring modestly at the wall.
"Well, if you're… not comfortable…"
No, Baralai still did not entirely know, but he was getting the general idea.
"With this… if you don't wanna help."
Silence.
Very slowly, the praetor turned his head, tearing his gaze from the pale walls, to twitching hands, up an upper torso, and finally onto the blond's face, which faltered but continued to look boldly back. Baralai narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, brows creasing and mouth set in a slim line. "Gippal…" he whispered softly, his voice almost deafening in the silent room.
The blond's chuckle wavered. "Look, 'Lai, I just don't want to put you through anything you don't want to do. I mean really, it's all good to me — "
"I thought I made it clear when I said I wasn't backing out," the other replied softly, a steely edge to his voice.
"Well, yeah, but I know how hard it is to be a praetor — well, not exactly, but close enough to it anyway. I know it's risky for you to comply to such a request, I mean, honestly, phobes and work don't really mesh, if you catch my drift — "
"I don't mind acting gay, if that's what you're getting at."
"Well no, well… yes, actually, but… then, why…" Gippal swallowed, stopping his stuttering long enough to give the white-haired man an odd look. "Then why are you all, like… you know, reluctant and crap? I mean, if it doesn't really bother you, then — "
"I hate to be skeptical, but not many men really enjoy acting as a boyfriend to their best friend, even if it doesn't really bother them." And here I was, thinking you were stupid, the praetor mused to himself, shaking his head.
Gippal blinked.
"Ah. Right. Fair point." He laughed weakly. "So it isn't just me, right?"
Baralai swallowed slightly, the previous calm shattered. He didn't know how to respond. 'No, of course it's not you, you're only the person I've been ogling for two years.' For some reason, he didn't think Gippal would cope well with that. "N-no…" he replied hesitantly, though he was saved from continuing the start of a shaky excuse by Gippal's ADHD nature, something that he'd never thought possible and something he'd never thought he'd ever thank.
"Wait — aww… I'm your best friend? Sweet!" He leaned forward, and Baralai, who realized what was happening a second too late and was unable to run away, was engulfed in a mind-boggling noogie. The next few moments passed in a whirl, the praetor practically cross-eyed with the ridiculous amount of pressure on his scalp.
"Wait, so you're sure?" the blond suddenly piped up, ceasing his mad ruffles through silver hair.
Slightly breathless and dazed, the praetor nodded, or at least tried to nod, neck giving out halfway through.
Gippal punched the air in his glee. "Thank you so much! If you're sure, you know… Argh, you don't know how happy I am right now! For a moment there, I thought I'd be going through this alone! God, I could kiss you!"
Baralai's hand, which had been furiously rubbing sore temples, stiffened. Gippal didn't notice the praetor's sudden uneasiness for several minutes, before he stopped as well, backtracked, and realized what he had said. And an awkward silence fell over them once more.
"Right…" the Al Bhed said jerkily, slowly releasing the death grip he'd previously had around Baralai's head and waving his hands in surrender at the familiar quiet. Great, just great.
Swallowing, the praetor tentatively rubbed his sore neck, actions strangely slow and sluggish, ignoring his closeness with the other and acting indifferent again, seeing as he didn't know what else to do. Minutes later, his neck now completely revived, he then occupied himself with his hair, smoothing it out and working away the tangles, stomach twisting and lurching. All the while he could feel Gippal's hesitant gaze on the back of his head.
Why was he lying to him?
Baralai narrowed his eyes, the small action hidden behind his silvery sheet of hair. He felt slightly guilty, denying his awkwardness to the blond, whom he had trusted for years. But to admit he was awkward was also to admit why, and that was a sticky conversation that he wanted nothing to do with. His emotions were his own problem; bringing Gippal into them was absolutely pointless. The blond couldn't help him (if he hadn't already been scared away by the fact that his friend was a hopeless homosexual) if he couldn't first deal with it by himself.
He realized vaguely that the Al Bhed was still looking at him, immobile and silent, almost cautiously. Blinking slightly, the praetor raised his head, ceasing the movements of his hand through his hair and dropping his arm back into his lap. He frowned slightly at Gippal's silence, before the words 'practice' and 'kissing' entered his head.
Ah. Yes.
He examined the Al Bhed for several more seconds before realizing that the other was… waiting… For his permission.
Well, wasn't that sweet. Insert sarcastic laugh: Ha, ha.
Not about to get all confused with his emotions should the blond proceed to shake the daylights out of him again, Baralai decided to drop all concerns, charge forward, and just take things as they came. Something Gippal would have been most likely to do, the praetor mused with dry amusement.
If it was permission the other wanted, it'd be permission he'd get.
"I'm hoping you're not going to be this hesitant over kissing me in public," the praetor murmured nonchalantly, picking delicately at his cuticles, and next to him, Gippal blinked in surprise. "So much for your superb acting skills you were boasting over yesterday. I'm ever so impressed." Baralai gave a sarcastic smile, and was received a weak one in return.
"Wait, so —"
"Yeah."
"You don't —"
"Go ahead."
"Oh. Right, so I'll just…" the blond mumbled, trailing off as he inched closer nervously. Baralai tried to look vaguely uninterested, and comparing the Al Bhed's usual proud demeanor to his now pitiful approach, he couldn't help but assume that the blond had been partially hoping for Baralai to reject him.
Well, tough luck.
He wasn't backing out if he could help it.
Besides, now that he thought about it, kissing practice with Gippal wouldn't really be so bad…
"I can feel my fingernails growing," Baralai stated with a raised eyebrow after several minutes passed with Gippal just staring oddly at him. The blond stiffened immediately. "Well, you try kissing a dude at will!" he snarled indignantly, and though Baralai could see what the blond was referring to with this blunt statement, he was in no mood for pity, and pleasantly stated back with laced venom that he was going through the exact same ordeal, so Gippal had no right to complain.
"Besides, didn't give you any problems yesterday, did it?" Baralai added coolly, tucking back a strand of silvery hair.
This was evidently the wrong thing to say. The praetor could practically see the pressure of two days' crack.
"What, you got a problem with that?" Gippal shot back coldly, nearly singeing off the praetor's face with his glare. "Why the hell do you keep bringing that back up against me? I'm sorry, all right?"
Baralai, at sudden loss of words to say, and in no way admitting that yes, maybe he was being a little harsh, shrugged, crossing his arms indifferently and flicking imaginary lint off of his sleeves. "Wasn't that impressive either. Seeing how all the girls obsess over you, your skill was fairly disappointing. You know. Kissing wise. Shame, really."
Yep, there he went again.
Baralai later learned to never, ever again insult Gippal's kissing skill.
The blond jerked up angrily, seized hold of the other's collar, and crushed their mouths together. Baralai's yelp of shock was muffled as the Al Bhed instantly delivered the most brutal and arousing kiss possible, sending the praetor's brain into pulse-waves of shock and causing him to lose all control at the knees, only regaining sense when the lack of air was too great.
Several minutes after he was released and dropped to the ground were spent gasping for oxygen and swooning in disorientation.
Disgusted and horribly pissed, the blond sat down on his mattress with enough force to crush a small hippo, crossing his arms, shutting his eyes angrily, and ignoring his dazed companion, puffs of steam literally escaping his ears.
Gasping slightly as he revived his lungs, the praetor slowly pushed himself up again, shaking his hair out of his eyes and still a little bit… no, really surprised. He turned towards Gippal hesitantly, swallowing as he bit his swollen bottom lip. He didn't think the blond would have cracked so early, if at all. Was it really so hard for him to do this?
He must really hate Devon.
The praetor sighed. Maybe he'd been a little too harsh, though Gippal's reaction had still been rather alarming. He'd never been that bothered by Baralai's indifference before. Though, then again, it'd been under different circumstances.
"You're taking this really seriously, huh?" the praetor whispered, more to himself than Gippal.
Hesitating, he frowned, before inching forward on hands and knees. Gippal made no response, merely stiffened. Baralai paused before continuing his slow journey, stopping at the blond's back, biting his lip again, and leaning forward, resting his chin on the other's shoulder, who tensed but relaxed immediately. A blue eye swiveled his way, glare cold and harsh. Grinning, the praetor licked his lips nervously before whispering a soft, "Sorry."
Gippal didn't reply immediately, still staring out of the corner of his eye at his companion, who in turn was gazing at his (ever so nice) profile intently. The blond finally ushered a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning completely to face the praetor.
"Nah, 'Lai, I'm sorry. Really." He frowned, thinking. "Sorry about all that crap, but… I'm really hoping this'll work. Okay, so the plan isn't really great, and there's a large chance of the both of us being labeled queer faggots after this, but…"
He trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor. Baralai's lips quirked. Another sign of Gippal's uncertainty: he'd admitted fault in a plan he'd made up himself. In truth, it hadn't really been a good plan either, but thinking so and having Gippal admitting so were two different points entirely. "But…?" the praetor prompted.
Gippal looked back up at him meaningfully.
The praetor grinned. "You're hoping I'll stop being an inconsiderate bastard?"
"Well, not with those exact words, but yeah."
Baralai laughed, reaching up and flicking Gippal's eye-patch. "Right. I'll try, but it'll be hard. It's in my blood."
"Uh huh," Gippal mused dryly, unconvinced. He suddenly looked doubtful again. "So…" he muttered, his hands twitching nervously. "You wanna try that again?"
Baralai blinked before shrugging, comprehending what Gippal was getting at immediately and disguising his sudden uneasiness and rapidly beating heart. So much for getting that over with. Sure, once was okay, and twice would be acceptable, though even he wasn't too keen on having the air sucked out of his lungs repeatedly; who knew how damaging that could be?
The Al Bhed scoffed, shaking his head. "Trying to act more considerate, huh?" he murmured sarcastically.
Blinking again, the praetor cocked his head to the side before sighing. "Oh yes, let's do it again!" he yipped with fake enthusiasm, clapping his hands together as he pulled back and did a horrible imitation of Rikku.
The blond rolled his eyes, laughing. "Better."
Lowering his head eye-level once more to his weeklong guest and resting his chin once more into the small groove he had previously made in the blond's shoulder, Baralai raised an eyebrow before giving off a small smile. Gippal unconsciously swallowed, suddenly aware about how close they were, the previous moments beforehand having gone completely over his head. Being in close proximity had never had this kind of impact on him, positive (like with the ladies), or negative (like with Nooj… Not that he had willingly done it or anything…), but then again, he had never been as close to the praetor as he was now.
Well, okay, so maybe he had yesterday, but that'd been in the heat of a competition he couldn't stand to lose, and therefore hadn't taken time then to actually look, which was a shame really, since the praetor's face wasn't that horrible to stare at…
He could see almost every detail of Baralai's dark face, from the way his sleek, silver hair fell over bronze eyes, the delicate eyebrows, the smooth jaw. He was surprised at their near perfection and almost feminine touch.
Baralai didn't seem like one of Spira's beautiful people. No… rephrase that. Gippal had always known of the praetor's good looks, but considering said praetor wasn't one to fuss over his appearance, the Al Bhed had never thought about them before.
But now… Baralai could have passed for a girl had Gippal not known any better
Damn nature and her cruel jokes.
He was brought back to earth by said praetor clearing his throat, looking thoroughly bored and highly impatient. "Well?" the man questioned, the faintest tinges of annoyance hidden under the many hues of his voice. Gippal swallowed, for some reason strangely attracted to the praetor's mouth, who was oblivious to his staring. "Are you going to just zone out?"
The blond mentally kicked himself. Concentrate. Right.
He shrugged his hair out of his eyes. "I'm getting there," he drawled, slowly reaching his hand forward towards the other's face, who stared steadily back at him. The blond hesitated slightly, struck by a sudden urge to see if Baralai's skin was as soft as it looked.
Wow. That omelet he'd eaten must've really been drugged.
He learned seconds later that the praetor's face was one of the softest he'd ever seen, let alone touched. Hell, he could have petted it all day.
Yep. It had been drugged all right.
Trailing his index finger over the curve of Baralai's (who, unless he was highly mistaken and probably was, shuddered softly at contact) cheek, across his smooth jawbone, and finally stopping to a rest under a tanned chin, Gippal came to conclude that he really was becoming insane. What was even crazier was that he had no intention of stopping whatsoever, something that would most likely disgust him later but was also something he was in no mood to fight against right now.
Feeling extremely high and daring, and by all means forgetting that the two of them were merely "practicing", the blond ran the ball of his thumb over the praetor's impossibly soft bottom lip, who sucked in a sharp intake of air and had become tense and breathless over the whole ordeal. Swallowing, Gippal hesitated before leaning forward slowly, pausing only when he was mere millimeters away…
Before realizing with a jolt that this wasn't supposed to be happening, that he was here to get rid of Devon, not to enjoy himself kissing other men, his closest friend no less. It wasn't real; he wasn't suppose to feel like this. He was Gippal. Gippal, the man ladies fell for. Gippal, the man who was in no way meant to be gay.
Ah, screw it.
He jerked forward the rest of the way, holding Baralai firmly in place with a finger as he brushed the other's mouth tentatively with his own, who nearly jumped in shock, instinctive retreat now out of the picture. And Gippal suddenly found that he could care less who he was kissing, when surprise wore off and the praetor began to kiss him back; it felt too damn good to be wrong.
Weird, how yesterday hadn't affected him nearly as much, and now…
He slowly pulled back, watching with a brimming eagerness and curiosity as the praetor let out a shuddering breath, dark lashes slowly fluttering open. He pushed back a strand of hair, trailing a hand back down under the other's chin (an area he determined as his new favorite spot), thumb brushing lightly against an earlobe. He leaned forward again as Baralai's eyes fully opened, placing another slow, soft, and impossibly sweet kiss on the other's lips.
He was vaguely aware of the slight scraping noise coming from behind the two of them, as well as the sounds of quiet voices, too intent on exploring Baralai's mouth to care. It was only when the praetor pulled back slightly that the Al Bhed was finally aware of the sharp rapping coming from the door.
The open door.
Shit.
He froze.
Pulling stiffly away and feeling as guilty as a child whom has been stealing cookies from its sibling, Gippal's head twitched to the door. Baralai, still slightly dazed though alert enough to hear the noises as well, mirrored the blond, though accidentally lost his balance and fell sloppily over his companion's shoulder, who, out of surprise or instinct, wrapped a secure arm around him.
Leaning against the doorframe with a highly amused expression on his face was Isaaru, though there was something in his eyes that suggested that happiness wasn't all he was experiencing right now. He quickly hid it however, and Baralai swallowed from his squashed position against Gippal's chest before slowly pushing himself back into a proper sitting position, a faint flush in his cheeks, smoothing back his hair and ushering the summoner in, acting as if people walking in on him kissing men was an everyday thing. Beside him, Gippal was still as stone, eyeing the intruder with a very venomous gleam in his eyes. With a jolt, the praetor realized that the two of them hadn't been introduced yet.
Well, weren't first impressions just glamorous?
"Gippal," the praetor began, gently untangling the Al Bhed's arms from around his waist, and the blond turned sharply to face him, "this is Isaaru, Maroda's brother. Isaaru, Gippal."
"Ah. Gippal…" Isaaru extended his hand, smiling warmly, and Gippal shook it with his own, though not with the same amount of warmth, posture stiff and wary. He'd seen Isaaru before, yesterday, in that photo. The one who'd been so casual with Baralai. He seemed nice enough, and the blond immediately trusted him, which was perhaps the reason why he was so disgruntled. Strangely enough, he didn't want to trust this man. The name also rung a faint bell. Hadn't he been a previous summoner as well?
"Sorry for… interrupting," the brunette stated lightly, turning back to Baralai, who had gotten to his feet. "But Djara said that one of the two kings go in this room, so…" He motioned behind him, and Gippal noticed the large box just outside the door, evidently holding the pieces of the bed frame.
"Ah," Baralai mused. He smiled softly. "Djara, huh? I thought I paid him to move, not recruit others to do it for him."
"Oi, the guy volunteered!"
Gippal blinked, turning around in surprise at the second man he hadn't noticed before, lounging casually on the windowsill and deep within the process of shredding a match, green eyes gleaming under a mop of red hair. The blond swallowed. When had he gotten in here?
And how much had they seen?
Baralai's voice brought him back from his thoughts.
"No, this one should go in the room down the hall," the praetor said curtly, examining the box's description. "Yeah. It's rosewood. Second bedroom, to the left."
"Ya sure?"
"I should think so."
"Right then." Djara hopped lightly down from the sill and proceeded to stroll listlessly out of the room, whistling a random tune. Baralai followed, pausing at the threshold to look back at the Al Bhed, who hadn't moved from his position since the beginning of the intrusion, still seemingly registering the whole ordeal slowly within his mind. The praetor sighed, laughing softly. "Oh, Gippal, you don't mind moving the mattress, do you? Just prop it against the wall. The next bed up's going to be yours."
"A-ah…"
Baralai smiled.
Isaaru was watching the two of them intently, arms crossed over his worn robes. When Gippal turned towards him, the summoner grinned once more, pushing himself off the doorframe as he proceeded down the hallway as well. Casting a final glance around Gippal's room, he laughed softly. "Might I suggest you take a cold shower before moving anything? It might… help things settle down." He bowed his head ever so slightly before walking out, shutting the door behind him, tucking his bangs behind an ear.
The Al Bhed blinked. Cold shower?
He looked down.
…
God dammit.
Yawning, the blond tottered over to the sofa in the game room and collapsed on top of it, burrowing his nose deep within the cushions. It'd be such a wonderful escape to just fall asleep, drift into slumber, with nothing to worry about until he awoke again. He shifted slightly, hissing as his shoulder emitted a sharp crack. Damn that bed frame. Damn Djara, for dropping it on him. Accident or no accident, he was in no mood to accept the redhead's apology. Besides, it had been nowhere close to an honest atonement (dude, the guy had been bent over double with laughter; sincere? Yeah right!).
Hmph.
Ah well. Another day over, another day spent. He sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes, with half a mind to go upstairs to his new king-sized bed, but by the sounds of it Isaaru and the others were still up there, and he wasn't really in a mood to talk. And besides, Baralai was up there as well, giving him an even larger excuse to stay downstairs, seeing as he had avoided the other as much as possible all day.
Sigh.
And speaking of which… who knew he'd get so jumpy around the praetor? Hell, he felt like a kid again, bumbling and confused. A small part of him really wanted to get up, walk up the stairs, see him… and that was what frightened him. No, his mental reaction to the praetor was still the same; he was his friend. There wasn't anything different going on. He just… wanted to be around the other more. And that was what confused him.
Someone who was a friend, and surprisingly nothing more (he was sure, since he'd gone over it all afternoon) and yet… he was happiest when he was in the other's company.
Ugh.
It wasn't natural.
Perhaps it would have been less confusing if he had starting liking Baralai or something, but that wasn't the case here. He still thought of Baralai as a friend. But…
He rubbed his eyes sharply, blotches of light splashing past closed eyelids.
He needed sleep.
It was frustrating, how… apathetic the praetor always was. This morning had definitely been one of the more embarrassing moments of his life, but Baralai hadn't even flinched. Gippal knew that Baralai had always been rather mellow with emotions, only showing true distress when alone, when family or friends were in danger, or with something one hundred percent bizarre, new and puzzling (this morning, for example), and the blond was used to it, but it was still uncanny.
He supposed it was just Baralai's way, though now that he thought about it, the only people who ever acted emotionless were those who trusted no one. They stood out, too, not because of their attitudes, but because of the empty look in their eyes.
The praetor did show some sentiment, of course, but he was well on the way of becoming one of those imperturbable bastards.
And besides, his eyes… they had that look in them. The emptiness. Not all the time, but the blond had seen it enough times to know it was there.
He wondered if his eyes had it, too.
Ugh. Too complicated.
Groaning, he blearily raised his head, gazing bleakly around the room. His gaze drifted towards the large TV, over a set of unpacked games, and finally onto the odd black box he'd seen the other day, grazing lightly over the engraved letters on its top. He still didn't understand the purpose of it. Why use it to hog up space when it was absolutely useless?
His curiosity getting the better of him, the Al Bhed rolled off the couch, crumpled into an unceremonial pile onto the floor, and struggled to his feet, crawling over to the mysterious box.
Frowning, he glared at it, warily picking it up and criticizing it from all angles. It looked innocent enough, almost stupid actually, but then again, Vegnagun had looked pretty dumb as well, and had been one tough cookie to beat.
Though, perhaps meshing a small black box with Vegnagun was a bad idea.
He lifted it over his head, staring at its smooth bottom side before shaking it violently. Stroking his chin, he was about to debate whether or not he should try taking the box apart to see if it had any interesting gadgets inside of it to make up for its boring exterior when someone cleared their throat behind him. Blinking, he swallowed, turning his head jerkily around as he slowly lowered the box back to the floor, feeling a sudden wave of guilt.
Baralai.
Just great.
So much for his goal of avoiding him all day.
The praetor raised an eyebrow at him from the doorway, clothed in nothing but a pair of baggy pants. A wet towel was slung casually across his shoulders, silver hair loose and damp, the usual blue headband gone. It made Baralai look younger somehow, more innocent, if possible. He looked… dare Gippal say it… cute…
The blond was at sudden loss of words to say, struck with a sudden urge to hit himself repeatedly over the head.
Don't think that way… not that… guy… girl… right… Baralai… wrong… argh!
"Might I ask what you're trying to do?" the silver-haired man asked quietly, stepping lightly over to his companion. Cloth rustled as he settled himself down besides him, a hand lifting to wipe off several droplets of water from his forehead.
Gippal sputtered before frowning, turning away and glaring once more at the box, as if hoping it'd burst into flames and give him an excuse to get out of the room. He rubbed his eye patch. "I see you took your band off," he grumbled, doing his best to act offhand.
"You sound surprised."
"Hn. You'd kept it on for so long I was beginning to think it was glued to your head."
Baralai laughed, voice soft and relaxed, successfully sending unwelcome tingles down the blond's spine.
Gippal grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense the praetor watching him carefully. With nothing better to do, the Al Bhed resumed his harassment of the PS2, poking fingers within its many grooves. "Shower, I assume?" he muttered after several seconds of silence. The praetor shifted besides him.
"Oh? You noticed, have you? I do hope it wasn't the wet hair that gave it away."
Another grunt.
"Why do I get the feeling you've been avoiding me, Gippal?"
"Hn."
Baralai sighed.
Muttering to himself, the blond's eye turned to his companion, who stared evenly back, albeit worriedly. "Gippal?" he prodded softly, "You okay?"
Gippal shrugged. Not keen on dwelling on the subject, he turned back to the black box. "What is this thing, anyway?" he snapped, flicking one of the corners. "Stupid box."
"That," the praetor replied lightly, leaning forward and taking the item from the Al Bhed's hands, "would be a PlayStation 2." He tapped the letters on the top of the box. "Read, Gippal."
"Play station my ass."
Baralai rolled his eyes. "It's the name of it, smart one." He looked back down at the PS2. "Actually, I haven't tried it yet. Rin gave it to me when I went to Luca. Said he didn't want it anymore, but thought I'd like it. He gave me some games for it too, said he 'burned' them, or something like that." The praetor shrugged. "Didn't tell me where he got it from. Just told me it'd been a gift from a distant friend. Sounds a bit illegal, if you ask me."
"Gasp, the praetor, possessing illegal games? The horror!" the blond muttered sarcastically, hiding his sudden curiosity. He needed something to insult.
"Yep." Baralai cast an intriguing stare his way. "Over ten of them, I think. Rin also gave me one that he claims was based off of Yuna and her pilgrimage."
"Really?" Gippal asked, wide-eyed and forgetting his previous irritability.
The silver-haired man placed the PS2 off onto the side, picked himself gracefully from the floor, and walked towards the TV. He frowned slightly as he reached it, swiping a finger across the screen. "Ugh. I should dust it…" he murmured to himself. Shaking his head, he bent down and opened one of the lower compartments, pulling open a shelf containing numerous, rectangular packages. Grabbing a few, he headed back to where Gippal had settled himself on the couch, gazing at the games expectantly and eagerly.
Really, how mature.
Smiling faintly, the praetor sat down elegantly next to the bubbling blond, who was now practically quivering in curiosity. Setting the games down carefully next to him, Baralai began to sift through them, Gippal watching every movement with a hungry expression in his eyes.
"Here it is," Baralai said finally, reaching for the game at the bottom of the pile. Like all the others, it was in a black case, leaving Gippal nothing to base a first impression on. Running a hand over its edge, the praetor pulled it open.
There must be something wonderful in here… The Al Bhed braced himself…
And was fairly disappointed when the item inside was revealed.
Frowning, he swiped the thing from inside its case and held it out in front of him. "What the hell is this? A shiny donut?" He sniffed it expectantly, before snorting and handing it back carelessly to the praetor, who was watching with a fairly amused expression at the blond's discontent.
"It's called a disk," he answered lightly. "Completely non-edible, believe me." He put it back gently, though hesitated, eyes drifting to the PS2 laying silently on the floor. His lips curled up in a smile.
Beside him, Gippal uttered a disbelieving snort, crossing his arms back over his head and shutting his eyes. He didn't notice the praetor get up beside him, nor notice when the TV was flipped on to a completely black channel. He also failed to notice Baralai switching the PlayStation on, insert the disk, and connect a controller to an outlet, only opening his eyes when the praetor dropped said controller into his lap.
The Al Bhed blinked before beginning the ritual of scrutiny all over again, picking at the helpless controller. He nearly had the shock of his life when he realized that the small buttons weren't just for show; when they all clicked consecutively after an attempt to squash the controller, Gippal let out a strangled peep and shot backwards, dropping the item sharply onto his foot and successfully destroying all the nerve-endings in his big toe.
Baralai broke out laughing besides him, picking up the abused controller and handing it back to the blond who was howling in agony. "It doesn't bite, you know," the praetor said gently, fixing Gippal in a pitying stare. "Now…" he turned back to the TV, raising the volume. "I'm guessing that this is how this works… yep, it's starting."
All pain evaporated instantly from Gippal's mind when the first few letters and words began to flash across the screen. Ushering a small "oooooh" he scooted closer, inches from falling off the couch.
"Yeah. Final Fantasy X," (3) Baralai murmured knowledgeably. "Here." Bending over to Gippal, he pressed the "X" button, selecting the choice for a new game.
"Hey! There's… people! Weird…" Gippal's eyes were as large as saucers. "Oooh… he looks fami — gack! He moved! No, wait, I moved and so he moved! Ah! He moved again!" He trailed off, squinting at the image on the screen. "This is so… bizarre! Are those… real people? Or like… generated? Ah, sweet! Hey… look! That's…" He suddenly jerked backwards. "Shuyin!" he yelled, pointing at the screen. "Ah! Or… wait, no… Is that, is that… what's his name… Tidus? This is so weird!"
Baralai sighed, feeling a migraine coming on when Gippal continued to preach chunky commentary for the next several minutes.
"Umm… Gippal…"
" — so cool. What's this again? A PlayStation game? Argh, I'm gonna steal this from you — "
"Gippal — "
" — priceless, I say, just priceless — "
"Gippal!"
"What?"
Sigh. "You're supposed to be fighting."
"Huh?"
Game over
Five minutes later:
" — alright, I'm ready! Time to kick ass! Take that! And that! And — "
"Gippal — "
" — whoo yeah! Su-cka! Whose your daddy? Uh huh, that's what I thought! Oh, this is great… I could dance to this! Awesome, I tell you. Du dum! Du du dum!"
"Gippal!"
"Yeah?"
"You can stop fighting now."
…
"Right."
"And never, ever sing that again. It was… a horrifying experience."
"Sorry 'bout that…"
He wasn't aware when he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up, it was dark. The only light came from the flickering of the TV, frozen with a scene of the digital Tidus running along the roads of Mi'hen. Baralai stared at the word "pause" for several seconds before realizing with surprise that, one, it was quiet, and two, he was leaning on someone's shoulder.
He turned and found himself staring directly into a single eye, glowing an unnatural yet perfect hue of blue.
Even in the dim lighting, Gippal's smile was visible. It was the kind of smile that a person has after being shaken out of deep thought.
"Hope I didn't wake you up," the blond whispered, teeth flashing as he spoke.
Baralai laughed softly. "You've been watching me? Never knew you were the silent, romantic type, Gippal."
The Al Bhed blinked before scoffing, wrapping an arm around the praetor's head and ruffling his hair. Used to this kind of treatment, the silver-haired man merely shrugged his hand off, blowing a strand of silver out of his eyes. "How long have you been playing?" he asked quietly, gaze drifting back to the screen.
A shrug. "I can't decide whether or not to keep on going."
The praetor smiled, yawning. Typical.
Gippal was so warm… Thankful for the darkness, which covered up the slight flush he was bound to have on his face, Baralai shifted to a more comfortable position, resting his head in the crook between Gippal's neck and shoulder as he curled himself up into a small ball. The steady beat of the blond's heart was strangely soothing to him, and the praetor's eyes began to close once more. For the first time in months, he felt absolutely, completely, one hundred percent safe.
Finally.
Sleep…
Almost hesitantly, Gippal's arm twitched before wrapping itself more securely around Baralai's torso, though the praetor was too drowsy to notice, content and happy, breaths becoming deeper, steadier.
He fell asleep minutes before the blond uncertainly leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
(1) Sorry, I know I'm being narrow-minded, but I've just recently had an odd encounter with a really dumb and annoying mover guy (he had helped with a friend's house), so my opinion of them has gone a little biased. This is merely my way of extracting my cowardly revenge on him.
(2) Originally, I had wanted to put one of FFX-2's original characters in that slot, before realizing that none of them would fit. Meh. Can you seriously imagine, say, LeBlanc, filling that role? So hopefully all of you can look past my randomly created person, seeing as I needed more characters to manipulate anyway. But don't worry; he's basically a filler.
…
Well, actually, Kimi thinks he and Isaaru would make a good… er… PARTNERSHIP… Let me know what you think in a review, possibly, since I wouldn't really mind adding another pair of lovebirds, but also don't really want to make it seem like I'm fawning over an OC, so yeah. Opinions, people!
(3) Eheh… I couldn't resist…