Pretty.
[mood| 
nerdy]
[music| Speeding Cars ~ Imogen Heap]
Title: Pretty
Author: squigglebiff (Miss Teen Wordpower)
Pairing: Riku/Sora
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,031
Summary: Sora gets drunk. Chaos ensues. Pure fluff.
A/N: This one sort of wrote itself the other morning. I like the idea of Drunk!Sora.
This is one RikuxSora fic of a few I plan on writing based on lines from the song "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out To Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens.
"All of my powers, day after day
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed"
Fictionally yours,
Miss Teen Wordpower
Riku had known a fair share of drunks in his life. His uncle Dave was a happy drunk if there ever was one, joking and laughing and always a welcome fixture at family parties until, in a moment of inebriation, he had accidentally sat on the family pet. His father was an angry drunk. Violent and angry, and he remembered how he would flinch every time he saw him take down the bottle of whiskey from the high shelf above the refrigerator and how the boy’s reflexes got honed from years of dodging backhands. His mother didn’t get drunk very often, but when she did, she was a sad drunk. She would cling to her glass and anything or anyone in the general vicinity, weeping and asking them what had become of her life. When she sobered up, she would always tug at the loose threads of her dress as she apologized to the people she had victimized in her confusion.
Riku should have known, however, that Sora was one hell of an affectionate drunk.
It was just shy of midnight, and the silver-haired boy was still wondering how the hell they had managed to stumble across a tiny restaurant and bar in Hollow Bastion that was willing to serve alcoholic beverages to teenage boys as he adjusted Sora’s arm over his shoulders. All he knew was that the smaller boy hadn’t known that piña coladas contained alcohol, and he had been so enthralled by thetiny pink paper umbrella in the drink and the fact that it “tasted like home” that Riku hadn’t had the heart to take the beverage away from him. However, one drink led to two, then four, and even though his sober friend had finally cut him off, Sora was now sufficiently drunk.
“Hey, Riku?” he drawled, swaggering at the side of his friend.
“Yeah?” Riku responded with a sigh, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, but he couldn’t bring himself to be irritated because he loved the way Sora said his name so much.
“Thanks,” the brunet said happily, burying his nose in the older boy’s hair.
“For what?” he replied patiently, half-playing along and half-serious. The hand that belonged to the arm not slung over his shoulders was clasped loosely in his, and he couldn’t remember when that happened.
“Y’know. Everything.”
“Okay, Sora.”
Pause.
“Hey, Riku?”
Sigh.
“Yeah?”
“Your hair smells nice,” came the drunken slur from below his ear as Riku felt the tickle of warm breath against his cool skin. Before he had a chance to respond (but not before his body had a chance to react, a sharp sensation of heat from his head to his feet that matched his intake of breath.), Sora’s feet somehow got tangled, or maybe one of his shoes caught on the cobblestone at an awkward angle, or perhaps his knees just buckled, but regardless, he was going down hard. Riku started, gasped, struggled to catch him, and he did, strong hands closing around the brunet’s back just before he hit the ground. Sora laughed, so Riku did too.
“Hey, Riku?” he said once again. His mind was swimming, his vision was blurred, but he could still make out his friend leaning over him, opulent hair falling about his shoulders and face and transfixing eyes twinkling in the faint starlight, he could still feel the gentle hands against his back. He smiled, somewhat in awe.
“Yeah?” he answered, again with a sigh, but this one was of relief. He pulled his friend back into a standing position, steadying him with a hand on either shoulder.
“You’re pretty.”
Riku laughed again.
“And you, my friend,” he retorted, throwing Sora’s arm around his shoulders once more and continuing their trek to Merlin’s place, “are very drunk.”
Sora gave a little hum of pleasure. “Yeah,” he admitted with a nod, “but you’re still pretty.”
The next thing Riku knew, the younger boy’s lips were colliding sloppily with his defined cheekbone, and he was afraid of how much he enjoyed it. He looked down into those blue eyes and smiled, putting on a brave face.
“You’re drunk,” he repeated, as if to remind himself. It almost hurt him to admit it, because Sore would never be this way to him while sober… at least, he didn’t think so.
“Just a little.”
“A little?” Cue arched eyebrow and incredulous glance. Sora snorted.
“Kay, a lot. But I’m not scared, so that’s good, right?”
Big blue eyes peered into keen green ones, and they stared at each other for a moment, considering.
“What do you mean?” Riku asked, not expecting any real clarification.
“I’m not scared of you.”
The words carried the dull sting of a punch in the nose.
“You were scared of me?”
Sora grinned and inclined his head leisurely, pulling his arm off of his friend.
“Yeah. Well, no. Not of you. Of… of… y’know. The stuff I thought when I was with you.”
Riku stopped walking.
“What?”
The brunet looked up at him, quirking up the corners of his mouth. His eyes were peaceful, intoxicated and intoxicating at once.
“Don’t you know?”
Riku opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Sora stuck his tongue out, chuckled softly, and something shifted in his cloudy gaze.
“I love you, stupid,” he said with a wink. One fleeting breath, then Riku found Sora’s lips being pressed up against his, a clumsy hand grasping at his shoulder. Something in Riku’s mind was screaming, but he returned the gesture, deepening the kiss despite all his inhibitions and better judgment. Somehow, he knew it was wrong. Some logical part of his brain was reminding him that Sora was very male and very drunk, but he found that he did not care. He had been stupid, after all, because he realized that he was in love indeed. It was sappy and cliché, and he couldn’t get enough. He wrapped his arms around his friend’s waist, and Sora felt so small against him. So small and beautiful and perfect.
Riku felt the boy smiling ever so slightly against his mouth, and it was then that he knew what Sora meant about things tasting like home.
nerdy]
[music| Speeding Cars ~ Imogen Heap]
Title: Pretty
Author: squigglebiff (Miss Teen Wordpower)
Pairing: Riku/Sora
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,031
Summary: Sora gets drunk. Chaos ensues. Pure fluff.
A/N: This one sort of wrote itself the other morning. I like the idea of Drunk!Sora.
This is one RikuxSora fic of a few I plan on writing based on lines from the song "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out To Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens.
"All of my powers, day after day
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed"
Fictionally yours,
Miss Teen Wordpower
Riku had known a fair share of drunks in his life. His uncle Dave was a happy drunk if there ever was one, joking and laughing and always a welcome fixture at family parties until, in a moment of inebriation, he had accidentally sat on the family pet. His father was an angry drunk. Violent and angry, and he remembered how he would flinch every time he saw him take down the bottle of whiskey from the high shelf above the refrigerator and how the boy’s reflexes got honed from years of dodging backhands. His mother didn’t get drunk very often, but when she did, she was a sad drunk. She would cling to her glass and anything or anyone in the general vicinity, weeping and asking them what had become of her life. When she sobered up, she would always tug at the loose threads of her dress as she apologized to the people she had victimized in her confusion.
Riku should have known, however, that Sora was one hell of an affectionate drunk.
It was just shy of midnight, and the silver-haired boy was still wondering how the hell they had managed to stumble across a tiny restaurant and bar in Hollow Bastion that was willing to serve alcoholic beverages to teenage boys as he adjusted Sora’s arm over his shoulders. All he knew was that the smaller boy hadn’t known that piña coladas contained alcohol, and he had been so enthralled by thetiny pink paper umbrella in the drink and the fact that it “tasted like home” that Riku hadn’t had the heart to take the beverage away from him. However, one drink led to two, then four, and even though his sober friend had finally cut him off, Sora was now sufficiently drunk.
“Hey, Riku?” he drawled, swaggering at the side of his friend.
“Yeah?” Riku responded with a sigh, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, but he couldn’t bring himself to be irritated because he loved the way Sora said his name so much.
“Thanks,” the brunet said happily, burying his nose in the older boy’s hair.
“For what?” he replied patiently, half-playing along and half-serious. The hand that belonged to the arm not slung over his shoulders was clasped loosely in his, and he couldn’t remember when that happened.
“Y’know. Everything.”
“Okay, Sora.”
Pause.
“Hey, Riku?”
Sigh.
“Yeah?”
“Your hair smells nice,” came the drunken slur from below his ear as Riku felt the tickle of warm breath against his cool skin. Before he had a chance to respond (but not before his body had a chance to react, a sharp sensation of heat from his head to his feet that matched his intake of breath.), Sora’s feet somehow got tangled, or maybe one of his shoes caught on the cobblestone at an awkward angle, or perhaps his knees just buckled, but regardless, he was going down hard. Riku started, gasped, struggled to catch him, and he did, strong hands closing around the brunet’s back just before he hit the ground. Sora laughed, so Riku did too.
“Hey, Riku?” he said once again. His mind was swimming, his vision was blurred, but he could still make out his friend leaning over him, opulent hair falling about his shoulders and face and transfixing eyes twinkling in the faint starlight, he could still feel the gentle hands against his back. He smiled, somewhat in awe.
“Yeah?” he answered, again with a sigh, but this one was of relief. He pulled his friend back into a standing position, steadying him with a hand on either shoulder.
“You’re pretty.”
Riku laughed again.
“And you, my friend,” he retorted, throwing Sora’s arm around his shoulders once more and continuing their trek to Merlin’s place, “are very drunk.”
Sora gave a little hum of pleasure. “Yeah,” he admitted with a nod, “but you’re still pretty.”
The next thing Riku knew, the younger boy’s lips were colliding sloppily with his defined cheekbone, and he was afraid of how much he enjoyed it. He looked down into those blue eyes and smiled, putting on a brave face.
“You’re drunk,” he repeated, as if to remind himself. It almost hurt him to admit it, because Sore would never be this way to him while sober… at least, he didn’t think so.
“Just a little.”
“A little?” Cue arched eyebrow and incredulous glance. Sora snorted.
“Kay, a lot. But I’m not scared, so that’s good, right?”
Big blue eyes peered into keen green ones, and they stared at each other for a moment, considering.
“What do you mean?” Riku asked, not expecting any real clarification.
“I’m not scared of you.”
The words carried the dull sting of a punch in the nose.
“You were scared of me?”
Sora grinned and inclined his head leisurely, pulling his arm off of his friend.
“Yeah. Well, no. Not of you. Of… of… y’know. The stuff I thought when I was with you.”
Riku stopped walking.
“What?”
The brunet looked up at him, quirking up the corners of his mouth. His eyes were peaceful, intoxicated and intoxicating at once.
“Don’t you know?”
Riku opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Sora stuck his tongue out, chuckled softly, and something shifted in his cloudy gaze.
“I love you, stupid,” he said with a wink. One fleeting breath, then Riku found Sora’s lips being pressed up against his, a clumsy hand grasping at his shoulder. Something in Riku’s mind was screaming, but he returned the gesture, deepening the kiss despite all his inhibitions and better judgment. Somehow, he knew it was wrong. Some logical part of his brain was reminding him that Sora was very male and very drunk, but he found that he did not care. He had been stupid, after all, because he realized that he was in love indeed. It was sappy and cliché, and he couldn’t get enough. He wrapped his arms around his friend’s waist, and Sora felt so small against him. So small and beautiful and perfect.
Riku felt the boy smiling ever so slightly against his mouth, and it was then that he knew what Sora meant about things tasting like home.