(no subject)
Title: Sick
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Characters: Guy, Luke
Genre: Romance, Drama
Guy did not get sick with worry; that just wasn't the type of person he was. When things got dicey, Guy's solution would be to keep a cool, calm and level head and work out the situation to the best of his ability. If there was no way for him to work out the situation, he'd roll with the punches, plan a comeback.
The destruction of Hod and the death of his family taught him nothing if not that.
Guy supposed that some day, when Duke Fabre was sobbing at his feet, he'd have to thank him for making him a much stronger man than the wimp he undoubtedly would have become had he stayed pampered as he was in that manor. "Thank you, Fabre," he'd sneer, blade to the Duke's throat as he cradled the body of his son, "thank you for making me strong enough to kill you."
Guy was a lot darker, far more sinister than others thought he was. Of course, sunshine colors and a baby face didn't hurt when masking one's true intentions.
But...something about the Duke's son bothered him. Not the fact that he'd be retrieved with nothing more than a body and a blank slate of a mind, no; his...nature was different. It had been five years since that day, and still -while he was just as spoiled and arrogant as before- there was something much gentler in this new Luke.
The old Luke had been just as ruthless as his father, even at ten.
"Guy!" The teenager's chipper voice sounded from just outside his window, and Guy jumped on his bed, nearly dropping the book he'd been pretending to read onto his lap. Slipping a finger between the pages to keep his place, Guy slid from his bed onto his feet and padded quietly over to the window, noting the starry sky outside -if nothing else, Baticul had a magnificent view of the sky- before swinging open the windowpane. Luke beamed at him before promptly climbing right through his window.
"Master Luke-"
Luke shot him a warning glance, attempting to untangle his coat from the sill before he fell flat on his face.
Guy sighed. "Luke, you can't be in here. I'll get into trouble."
"Then I'll hide if someone knocks," Luke answered simply, successfully removing his coat from the snag and closing the window, drawing the curtains.
Guy pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realize that you being here, in a servant's quarters, when you are supposed to be asleep in your own bed is grounds for my dismissal?"
"Oh, if Father throws a fit, I'll just beg Mother and she'll convince him to let you stay," Luke offered breezily, snuggling happily into Guy's bed and making himself rather comfortable with the pillows. Glancing quizzically at Pere's own empty bed, Luke pointed and shot Guy an inquisitive look, a single brow raised.
"He's out," Guy answered tersely, hands on his hips, book forgotten, "as you should be. You can't be here."
"What's got you so grouchy?" Luke complained, tossing a pillow half-heartedly at Guy; it flopped lifelessly at Guy's feet, not reaching its intended target.
"Nothing." Guy sat at the edge of the bed, nailing Luke in the face with the pillow with a chuckle. He laughed at the teenager's muffled curses, snickering when his red and irritated face poked out from behind the weapon. "You started it," he pointed out.
Luke appeared torn between arguing and laughing, and settled on a grin. "I did." And he tackled Guy.
"Whoa!" Guy shouted in surprise, book flying into the air, before he wrapped an arm around Luke's neck and put him into a headlock, mussing up his hair and laughing. "Bad move, kiddo; I'm stronger than you!"
"I'm not a kid!" Luke howled from beneath his arm, and squirmed, attempting to slip from Guy's grip. His attempts were fruitless, however, and he sighed through his nose, going limp in Guy's hold and pouting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Jerk."
"You started this one, too," Guy told him before releasing him. However, this appeared to be a mistake, as Luke simply tackled him again, sending them both over the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a loud WHUMPF that Guy was sure the other servants heard. Caution was thrown to the wayside when Luke poked his ribs -little brat knew he was ticklish there!- and he rolled them over to their sides, fingers racing over Luke's exposed stomach. He, Guy, may be ticklish, but Luke must have had nerve endings in every cell of his body; if someone so much as breathed on him, he'd giggle.
"Augh! Ah ha ha!" Luke shrieked in surprise and laughter, grabbing hold of Guy's arm and pulling, managing to yank Guy atop himself and thus halt his tickling assault. However, this also put him into a very awkward position, and he just noticed that his leg was between Guy's and that Guy's tights most definitely were as thin as they looked. Guy paused when Luke shifted his weight and hurried to scramble off the boy when the aristocrat did something quite surprising.
Luke grabbed Guy's collar and yanked him down to kiss him.
There was a moment when Guy's mind blanked as he mentally balked. The Duke's only child was kissing him.
Immediately upon that realization, Guy pushed back from and off of Luke, scrambling backwards towards his bed until Luke reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to himself. "Come on," Luke muttered, and practically fell on top of Guy, pinning him upright against his bed, kissing him again.
Guy considered punching Luke, as that appeared to be the only way to stop him, but found himself instead yanking his glove from his hands and tangling one of them into Luke's hair, shoving his tongue into Luke's mouth. The teen jumped, startled, before responding with even more fervor than before, moaning and wriggling in Guy's lap in a way that was very distracting.
The fact that he was making out with someone he had vowed to kill occured to Guy, and he gently -but insistantly- pulled back, Luke nibbling on his bottom lip as he did in a way that made him begin to regret it. "Luke," he whispered breathlessly, panting, combing his fingers through that long, luxurious hair all the same, "we can't do something like this."
"Yeah we can," Luke insisted, and ground himself against Guy, elliciting a groan from the older teen. "We can, I won't tell, come on," the words tumbled from the redhead's mouth in a rush, he clutched Guy's collar, tugged on it, pressed his lips clumsily to Guy's jaw and neck.
"Luke," Guy groaned insistantly, and shoved his charge back, breathing heavily. He opened his mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, but paused when Luke bowed his head, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against Guy's shoulder, clinging to his arms and shaking. "Don't...Luke, don't be upset, come on..."
There was no answer except for a strained grunt, and Guy knew that it wasn't emotional pain that gripped him; quickly, he lifted Luke up and onto the bed, where he gasped and curled on his side, clutching at his forehead with a dry sob. "Guy," he mewled piteously, other hand groping the bedsheets and Guy took it, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.
"It's okay, Luke, I'm here," he murmured, impulsively lifting Luke's hand and kissing the back of it. "It's all right..." His attempt to be soothing felt hollow, empty, because there was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain except to be there with him.
Luke shuddered, opened eyes glazed with pain and quickly screwed them shut again. "Oww..." he whimpered, "ow ow ow..." His fingers curled around Guy's nearly to the point of discomfort, and he managed to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, so that he could grasp Guy's shirt and yank on it weakly.
Guy, catching a hint as well as any other person, pulled Luke against him and tucked his face beneath his chin, lips against Luke's earlobe. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered, and Luke shuddered again, although not from the breath on his ear, Guy was sure.
Guy did not get sick with worry.
But sometimes, he got very damn close.
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Characters: Guy, Luke
Genre: Romance, Drama
Guy did not get sick with worry; that just wasn't the type of person he was. When things got dicey, Guy's solution would be to keep a cool, calm and level head and work out the situation to the best of his ability. If there was no way for him to work out the situation, he'd roll with the punches, plan a comeback.
The destruction of Hod and the death of his family taught him nothing if not that.
Guy supposed that some day, when Duke Fabre was sobbing at his feet, he'd have to thank him for making him a much stronger man than the wimp he undoubtedly would have become had he stayed pampered as he was in that manor. "Thank you, Fabre," he'd sneer, blade to the Duke's throat as he cradled the body of his son, "thank you for making me strong enough to kill you."
Guy was a lot darker, far more sinister than others thought he was. Of course, sunshine colors and a baby face didn't hurt when masking one's true intentions.
But...something about the Duke's son bothered him. Not the fact that he'd be retrieved with nothing more than a body and a blank slate of a mind, no; his...nature was different. It had been five years since that day, and still -while he was just as spoiled and arrogant as before- there was something much gentler in this new Luke.
The old Luke had been just as ruthless as his father, even at ten.
"Guy!" The teenager's chipper voice sounded from just outside his window, and Guy jumped on his bed, nearly dropping the book he'd been pretending to read onto his lap. Slipping a finger between the pages to keep his place, Guy slid from his bed onto his feet and padded quietly over to the window, noting the starry sky outside -if nothing else, Baticul had a magnificent view of the sky- before swinging open the windowpane. Luke beamed at him before promptly climbing right through his window.
"Master Luke-"
Luke shot him a warning glance, attempting to untangle his coat from the sill before he fell flat on his face.
Guy sighed. "Luke, you can't be in here. I'll get into trouble."
"Then I'll hide if someone knocks," Luke answered simply, successfully removing his coat from the snag and closing the window, drawing the curtains.
Guy pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realize that you being here, in a servant's quarters, when you are supposed to be asleep in your own bed is grounds for my dismissal?"
"Oh, if Father throws a fit, I'll just beg Mother and she'll convince him to let you stay," Luke offered breezily, snuggling happily into Guy's bed and making himself rather comfortable with the pillows. Glancing quizzically at Pere's own empty bed, Luke pointed and shot Guy an inquisitive look, a single brow raised.
"He's out," Guy answered tersely, hands on his hips, book forgotten, "as you should be. You can't be here."
"What's got you so grouchy?" Luke complained, tossing a pillow half-heartedly at Guy; it flopped lifelessly at Guy's feet, not reaching its intended target.
"Nothing." Guy sat at the edge of the bed, nailing Luke in the face with the pillow with a chuckle. He laughed at the teenager's muffled curses, snickering when his red and irritated face poked out from behind the weapon. "You started it," he pointed out.
Luke appeared torn between arguing and laughing, and settled on a grin. "I did." And he tackled Guy.
"Whoa!" Guy shouted in surprise, book flying into the air, before he wrapped an arm around Luke's neck and put him into a headlock, mussing up his hair and laughing. "Bad move, kiddo; I'm stronger than you!"
"I'm not a kid!" Luke howled from beneath his arm, and squirmed, attempting to slip from Guy's grip. His attempts were fruitless, however, and he sighed through his nose, going limp in Guy's hold and pouting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Jerk."
"You started this one, too," Guy told him before releasing him. However, this appeared to be a mistake, as Luke simply tackled him again, sending them both over the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a loud WHUMPF that Guy was sure the other servants heard. Caution was thrown to the wayside when Luke poked his ribs -little brat knew he was ticklish there!- and he rolled them over to their sides, fingers racing over Luke's exposed stomach. He, Guy, may be ticklish, but Luke must have had nerve endings in every cell of his body; if someone so much as breathed on him, he'd giggle.
"Augh! Ah ha ha!" Luke shrieked in surprise and laughter, grabbing hold of Guy's arm and pulling, managing to yank Guy atop himself and thus halt his tickling assault. However, this also put him into a very awkward position, and he just noticed that his leg was between Guy's and that Guy's tights most definitely were as thin as they looked. Guy paused when Luke shifted his weight and hurried to scramble off the boy when the aristocrat did something quite surprising.
Luke grabbed Guy's collar and yanked him down to kiss him.
There was a moment when Guy's mind blanked as he mentally balked. The Duke's only child was kissing him.
Immediately upon that realization, Guy pushed back from and off of Luke, scrambling backwards towards his bed until Luke reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to himself. "Come on," Luke muttered, and practically fell on top of Guy, pinning him upright against his bed, kissing him again.
Guy considered punching Luke, as that appeared to be the only way to stop him, but found himself instead yanking his glove from his hands and tangling one of them into Luke's hair, shoving his tongue into Luke's mouth. The teen jumped, startled, before responding with even more fervor than before, moaning and wriggling in Guy's lap in a way that was very distracting.
The fact that he was making out with someone he had vowed to kill occured to Guy, and he gently -but insistantly- pulled back, Luke nibbling on his bottom lip as he did in a way that made him begin to regret it. "Luke," he whispered breathlessly, panting, combing his fingers through that long, luxurious hair all the same, "we can't do something like this."
"Yeah we can," Luke insisted, and ground himself against Guy, elliciting a groan from the older teen. "We can, I won't tell, come on," the words tumbled from the redhead's mouth in a rush, he clutched Guy's collar, tugged on it, pressed his lips clumsily to Guy's jaw and neck.
"Luke," Guy groaned insistantly, and shoved his charge back, breathing heavily. He opened his mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, but paused when Luke bowed his head, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against Guy's shoulder, clinging to his arms and shaking. "Don't...Luke, don't be upset, come on..."
There was no answer except for a strained grunt, and Guy knew that it wasn't emotional pain that gripped him; quickly, he lifted Luke up and onto the bed, where he gasped and curled on his side, clutching at his forehead with a dry sob. "Guy," he mewled piteously, other hand groping the bedsheets and Guy took it, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.
"It's okay, Luke, I'm here," he murmured, impulsively lifting Luke's hand and kissing the back of it. "It's all right..." His attempt to be soothing felt hollow, empty, because there was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain except to be there with him.
Luke shuddered, opened eyes glazed with pain and quickly screwed them shut again. "Oww..." he whimpered, "ow ow ow..." His fingers curled around Guy's nearly to the point of discomfort, and he managed to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, so that he could grasp Guy's shirt and yank on it weakly.
Guy, catching a hint as well as any other person, pulled Luke against him and tucked his face beneath his chin, lips against Luke's earlobe. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered, and Luke shuddered again, although not from the breath on his ear, Guy was sure.
Guy did not get sick with worry.
But sometimes, he got very damn close.