[fic] [FE7 AU] Messenger Boys [PG] [Heath, Legault]
Title: Messenger Boys
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7
Rating: PG
Pairing/s (if applicable): none
Summary:
Warnings: AU, mention of criminal activities
Other Comments: Completely plotless, but fun~ Done as a for-the-hell-of-it practice cheer-me-up thing from here for xirysa. Her prompt was "Heath and Legault being sexy and badass motherfuckers. Bonus points if both of them are in suits. And if motorcycles are involved somehow." It can be found on fanfiction.net as soon as I can get the link.
Heath stood on a street corner, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, wisps of smoke drifting up around him every so often. The tousled green hair with the bleached white streak was a stark contrast to his otherwise monochrome attire. He was waiting; not for a John -- god, no, he'd never get that desperate, though it was a joke to be adding levels to his desperation into the mixture now, considering what Legault had gotten the two of them into after their last batch of go-nowhere jobs ran out -- but he seemed too distant to be selling himself, anyway. A snappy black suit turned his leanly athletic figure into a suave one, black tie standing out against his pressed white shirt and black leather shoes polished to a high shine. The sun was setting, but he was wearing dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. Nowadays, the only clothing he spent much time on were these.
He'd be wearing a fedora as well, to top off the ensemble, but the reason why he wasn't came roaring up the street.
The borrowed (well, Legault had said it was borrowed) Ducati flashed bright red under the streetlights that were beginning to spring to life. Heath had said time and again that something so flashy wasn't safe for their line of work, but Legault refused to rent, borrow, buy, or (dare he even think it) steal a nondescript car.
The lavender-haired man was dressed identically to Heath, though he'd foregone sunglasses. Really, Heath would have thought Legault would have preferred to keep his eyes covered, with those scars he had over his eye.
Heath took one final drag of the cig before he flicked it to the sidewalk, exhaling slowly as he crossed over to where his partner had stopped the bike.
"You're supposed to be wearing a helmet," he said plainly. He got a cheeky, lopsided grin in response.
"Really, love? I didn't know."
"Ha," was the only thing Heath could think of to say in response. Well, there was always "please don't call me that," but Legault hadn't listened the first fifty times.
"Delivery to the north side of the city tonight," Legault said, sitting back. "We've got five minutes to make it to HQ and pick it up."
"But-!" Heath sputtered. "That's a fifteen minute ride!"
Legault just grinned, a flash of white teeth in the growing darkness.
"Not with me driving. You're riding bitch. Climb on. And," He winked. "I notice you're not wearing a helmet yourself."
Heath just grumbled and threw his leg over the bike. Legault drove like a madman. Why was he always the one who got to drive?
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7
Rating: PG
Pairing/s (if applicable): none
Summary:
Warnings: AU, mention of criminal activities
Other Comments: Completely plotless, but fun~ Done as a for-the-hell-of-it practice cheer-me-up thing from here for xirysa. Her prompt was "Heath and Legault being sexy and badass motherfuckers. Bonus points if both of them are in suits. And if motorcycles are involved somehow." It can be found on fanfiction.net as soon as I can get the link.
Heath stood on a street corner, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, wisps of smoke drifting up around him every so often. The tousled green hair with the bleached white streak was a stark contrast to his otherwise monochrome attire. He was waiting; not for a John -- god, no, he'd never get that desperate, though it was a joke to be adding levels to his desperation into the mixture now, considering what Legault had gotten the two of them into after their last batch of go-nowhere jobs ran out -- but he seemed too distant to be selling himself, anyway. A snappy black suit turned his leanly athletic figure into a suave one, black tie standing out against his pressed white shirt and black leather shoes polished to a high shine. The sun was setting, but he was wearing dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. Nowadays, the only clothing he spent much time on were these.
He'd be wearing a fedora as well, to top off the ensemble, but the reason why he wasn't came roaring up the street.
The borrowed (well, Legault had said it was borrowed) Ducati flashed bright red under the streetlights that were beginning to spring to life. Heath had said time and again that something so flashy wasn't safe for their line of work, but Legault refused to rent, borrow, buy, or (dare he even think it) steal a nondescript car.
The lavender-haired man was dressed identically to Heath, though he'd foregone sunglasses. Really, Heath would have thought Legault would have preferred to keep his eyes covered, with those scars he had over his eye.
Heath took one final drag of the cig before he flicked it to the sidewalk, exhaling slowly as he crossed over to where his partner had stopped the bike.
"You're supposed to be wearing a helmet," he said plainly. He got a cheeky, lopsided grin in response.
"Really, love? I didn't know."
"Ha," was the only thing Heath could think of to say in response. Well, there was always "please don't call me that," but Legault hadn't listened the first fifty times.
"Delivery to the north side of the city tonight," Legault said, sitting back. "We've got five minutes to make it to HQ and pick it up."
"But-!" Heath sputtered. "That's a fifteen minute ride!"
Legault just grinned, a flash of white teeth in the growing darkness.
"Not with me driving. You're riding bitch. Climb on. And," He winked. "I notice you're not wearing a helmet yourself."
Heath just grumbled and threw his leg over the bike. Legault drove like a madman. Why was he always the one who got to drive?