Prompt Post: ROUND FIVE
ROUND FIVE IS CLOSED
<< ROUND FOUR | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND SIX >>
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Flat view.
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<< ROUND FOUR | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND SIX >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
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f Erik had known, he reflected, he never would have taken the rooms beside Azazel's in the spacious Grecian safe-house. However, everyone among his new Brotherhood (he liked the sound of that name) failed rather spectacularly to inform him that the rooms beside his did not just belong to Azazel, but to the ever-silent Riptide as well.
That is not to say that kind of thing bothered him. He could hardly judge.
Though he did wonder what exactly Riptide saw in Azazel. His face did not bother him in the slightest, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the man was rude, vicious, and had a distinct lack of regard for basic rules of cleanliness.
“I told you not to do that at the table we eat at.” He growled, when he came in one morning and found Azazel nonchalantly cleaning his bloody swords at the kitchen table. And Erik did mean bloody, the things were practically dripping with the stuff.
Angel, apparently unconcerned, continued to eat her toast and read her magazine.
“Need table. Good light in here.” Azazel replied, holding one up into the fresh morning light to inspect it.
“It's unsanitary.” Erik refuted, but Azazel only shrugged. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Means 'unclean'. I have accent, does not mean I do not speak English, thank you.” He put the sword back into its sheath and started on the second. “Is good for you, makes you strong.”
“Do you have any idea how many diseases are in blood?”
“No.” Azazel's tone suggested he did not much care either.
“Just let it go. He never listened when Shaw told him too either.” Angel informed him, turning the page to a full page spread of some musicians.
“I am the leader here.” Erik insisted.
“And I am here by choice. What is a leader with no followers?” He posed the question in Angel's direction.
“A dog barking at its own shadow.” Angel recited dully.
“Very good, little comrade.”
“Thanks.” She said, a sarcastic tone in there that Azazel clearly heard, but only raised an eyebrow at as far as Erik could tell. “We're out of milk, by the way.”
“Do I look like delivery boy?” Azazel asks, pressing the pad of his finger against the sharp edge. Angel sighs and gets up, leaving her dirty plate on the table, presumably to go dress for a grocery run. On the way out, Riptide passes her, and she smirks up at him.
“You have something on your neck there Riptide,” He swats at her, and comes in the kitchen, getting coffee. When he sees what Azazel is doing though, he stands over him, and crosses his arms, eyebrows raised.
Azazel glances up at him, sees his face, and frowns. Riptide tips his head to the side, his eyebrows raising higher. Azazel glares, then huffs, and he and his supplies disappear in a puff of smoke. He reappears a moment later. “Happy?” He asks. Riptide smiles, and goes back to what he was doing.
A seed of suspicion is planted in Erik's mind as he looks between them, noticing the bruise on Riptide's neck for the first time.
Oh.
Well then.
He went about his morning, deciding not to think on it any further, but when night came, and he sat at his desk, the subject in question decided to insert itself into his thoughts.
At first, it was nothing he could not explain away. This house of Shaw's was built like many Greek houses, and that meant there was a certain amount of outside noise filtering in. His busy mind passed it off as the wind.
The clearly human shout dispelled that notion.
For the first time in his life, he wished from the bottom of his heart that he did not speak Spanish.
“Harder, yes, like that my love, yes,”
There was no God. It was that simple.
“My love, please, don't stop, please, please,”
The man was loud. Would it kill them to show some consideration for the other people in this house?
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He narrowed his eyes at them.
Angel had the good grace to pointedly not meet his eyes, but Emma had no such shame.
“I already get the idea. I don't need to hear it too.” She told him, without him saying a word. He turned to Angel.
“Oh come on, I walked in on them like, three times, on the sub. I've suffered enough.” He mentally shuddered and turned to Mystique.
“And you?” She shifted in her seat. “Am I the only one who didn't know they were fucking?”
“Pretty much.” Emma said in a bored tone. “Alright Blue, any fives?”
“Go fish.”
Seeing his defeat, Erik sat down and had them deal him in.
The next day, Azazel and Riptide carried on like it was any other day. He supposed for them, it was.
The card games at night turn into a habit that Erik is embarrassed at enjoying as much as he does, but to be honest, there is only so much to do after sunset. There was only so much planning a man could do in a day, and he hated being alone at night, when he is confronted with an empty bed and head. Charles was probably not eager to seek him out, and Greece was too far away anyway, he knew, but god, the man could try. Could make an effort.
He played cards instead of thinking about it.
Riptide and Azazel rarely joined them, too occupied with each other it seemed, though even Erik was a little surprised at their stamina. When he wondered aloud at the fact one night over poker though, Emma just laughed.
“They do go places, you know. They have friends, clubs.”
“Clubs? Azazel?”
“Just because you and Charles are socially inept doesn't mean the rest of mutant kind is. There's always been places mutants could go. It's how I found the two of them.” Mystique had perked up at the idea of mutant clubs, and was listening intently. Even Angel looked interested.
“Shaw was recruiting in clubs?” Erik asked, giving the idea some weight.
“There were rumors, for a long time, about a pair who worked together. Sebastian was interested in recruiting the two of them. They still go, and like I said, they have friends. Though how Azazel keeps friends, I will never know.”
“Hey, Azazel's not bad. And at least he talks.” Mystique interjected, folding her hand with a sigh.
“I have wondered about that.” Erik stated, mulling over his own average hand. “Does Riptide speak English?”
“Why do you ask?” Emma was bluffing, he was almost sure of it. The woman had a fantastic poker face though, so he couldn't be one hundred percent positive.
“He never speaks.”
“Maybe he just doesn't want to.” Angel glanced between them, her eyebrows raised. “I'm just saying.”
“He's certainly vocal at other times.” His words have the exact effect he hoped for, as Angel shuddered, obviously remembering whatever horribly graphic thing she walked in on.
Emma laid her hand down, and damn it, hers was better than Erik's. Angel triumphantly slapped her own hand down though, a straight that clearly gave her this round.
“Azazel has always been especially talented at getting people to talk.” Emma told him, as she shuffled the cards.
“That's what I have you for.” Emma just shook her head.
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“Not kitchen conversation.” Emma told him, without looking up from dealing.
And that was the end of that conversation.
That night, after another hand that he had lost, because damn it, Angel was cheating somehow, he heard Azazel reappear in his own bedroom, through the wall. There was the low sound of a voice, laughter, Riptide's, he thought.
There was more laughter, and then, right on cue, a low groan, Azazel's maybe. The string of incomprehensible Russian confirmed it, and Erik wondered what Riptide was doing to cause such a reaction. The Spanish that met his ears told him more than he needed.
“You like my hand around your cock, don't you? You like my mouth better.” Good god, did they never tire of each other? How many times could two people have sex in one week?
Well, that was a bitter thought, because he knew the answer, didn't he?
“I know what you like best though,”
“Come back here Janos,” Azazel growled, but then he said, “Never mind then,” In a more lecherous tone. Riptide must be undressing then.
“You have been thinking about this, yes? Being inside of me again, fucking me so hard I scream,” There was a pause, a shuffling sound of some kind. “I've been thinking about it too, my love, imagining you throwing me against the wall and just tearing into me,” He was cut off by a moan, his, and there was a loud banging noise right by Erik's head, on their side of the wall.
“Yes, that's it, that's it, please my love, make me feel you, I-! Azazel!” The banging took on a certain rhythm, a loud rhythm, because they obviously couldn't fuck on a bed like normal people. It sounded like they were on the desk in Azazel's room actually.
Erik frowned. Desks were not for fucking. They were for working.
Mostly working.
Except for special occasions. Occasions like “We might die tomorrow”.
He rolled over. These two just depressed him.
“Yes Azazel, like that, harder, please,” Of course the man got louder. “You want me so badly, all the time, cannot keep your hands off of me, and I love it, because I need this from you, I need-!” He moaned, loudly, and Erik just might kill them. Gleefully.
As the days went by, he started to notice more about Riptide. For all the man could not shut up when Azazel and he were fucking, he never said a word during the day. He communicated through looks and raised eyebrows, hand gestures and shrugs. Azazel read him best, out of anyone, but it was absolutely shocking to him how Angel and Mystique could just sit at the table and have a whole conversation with him, without him ever saying a single word.
“Do you think this will taste any good?” Angel would ask, pushing a cook book over to him and pointing at a recipe. He would make a face, raising his eyebrows, keeping his mouth in a straight line, and somehow, Angel would know to reply, “No, you're right, that's pretty similar to the Greek dish, and Emma hated it.”
Riptide had only tipped his head to the side, and softened his mouth, but yet again, Angel would know.
“I know she hated it, no matter what she said. She made that face, you know the one, right before she's all polite.” Riptide smiled at her, the first time Erik had ever actually seen him smile, and despite the fact that his heart was already claimed, there was the physical burn of attraction.
Not that he would consider it. Attraction was one thing, actual want was another, and Erik was old enough to know the difference.
Hm.
He missed Charles.
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Azazel was asleep on the settee, tail curled over his body, arms crossed, and now Riptide was crouched down over him, resting his head on the arm of the furniture. Erik didn't think he'd been seen yet. It was the only explanation for Riptide's sudden vocalness.
His face was just so fond, as he watched Azazel for a moment before standing, straightening his suit. That was when Erik emerged from the corner he'd been working in. For a moment, Riptide's face went completely blank before it slipped into his normal neutral expression. He nodded at Erik in greeting and walked past him, but Erik stopped him, with only a question.
“That accent, that's Mexican, isn't it?”
Riptide's expression twisted into terror, as he stared at Erik with wide eyes.
“Never assume, Riptide. Never assume a room is empty, never assume no one can hear you, and never assume no one can understand you.”
“Please. Please don't.” He begged quietly, casting his eyes over to Azazel, still sleeping.
“Why don't you ever speak to anyone?” Erik asked, curious. He had something on the man now and he intended to milk it for all it was worth.
“I have no gift for language. My English is still very bad. It's easier to not speak.”
“But Azazel understands you.”
“Azazel does not need me to talk to understand me. He never has.” Riptide snapped, his calm temperament breaking. He strode past Erik without another word
Well. There was an idea on how to get some fun out of this.
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He waited until he finally found Azazel alone, sharpening his blades while humming to himself, tail weaving in patterns over his head.
“Azazel,”
“Hm?” He didn't even give Erik the courtesy of looking up from his task.
“Do you speak any Spanish?”
“I speak Russian, English, German, Czech, Turkish and Romanian. Do not ask me to speak any more languages. You want Spanish, you ask Angel.”
“Or perhaps Riptide?” Azazel looked up now. “He seems quite fluent.”
“He is. His English is not so good.” There was a clear warning in Azazel's voice, telling Erik to tread lightly when it came to this subject.
“But you and him don't really need language, do you?” The sword on the whetstone took on a distinctly sharper sound, as Azazel inspected it closely.
“We have an understanding.” Azazel set the whetstone aside and selected a piece of sandpaper from the supplies, working the edge carefully. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Erik smiled in a friendly way, “He's just so eloquent. It's a shame you can't understand him. I love hearing what he has to say. Especially about you.” Azazel stiffens, his tail curving back in a sure movement until it is coiled closer to his body. “Well, must be going. Things to do.”
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“When are you speaking to him so much?” Azazel's English is normally quite good, Erik thinks, for all that he enjoyed throwing in a Russian phrase or two. That he was stumbling told Erik exactly how successful he had been in angering him.
“I do not!” Azazel shouted something in Russian that Erik had no hope of understanding, and then Riptide shouted something back, in Spanish, until finally, Erik heard Azazel teleport.
There was a thump against the wall and an odd noise, a kind of hitched breathing.
Hm.
He might have gone a little too far, in retrospect.
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This is confirmed the next day when Emma comes down on him with all of the wrath of a vengeful god.
“What did you do?” She demanded through clenched teeth.
Erik raised an eyebrow at her.
“Shield against me all you want you jackass, I know you had something to do with this.”
“I'm afraid telepathy is not one of my talents, Miss Frost. You're going to have to be more specific.”
“Alright,” She said, with a smile that showed no teeth and promised blood. “I know you are somehow behind Riptide moping and Azazel throwing knives at Angel. I know it for a fact, because Azazel is thinking about you very hard every time he stabs the training dummy. Let me warn you now Lehnsherr, there's a very good reason Shaw never said so much as 'boo' to Azazel.” She crossed her arms and smiled bigger, which was somehow not comforting at all, for all she was so pretty. “'Insane' does not begin to encompass Azazel. And he's territorial, especially when it comes to Riptide. You might very well wake up chained to an ice shelf in the Arctic covered in blood, just waiting for whatever predator finds you first. Because to him, that's a perfectly rational response.”
“...That was an astonishingly specific example.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Oh.
Well then.
That was actually rather frightening, in fact.
“He is completely psychotic. Riptide keeps him on a leash, and you just cut the leash.”
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I. LOVE. IT. SO. VERY. MUCH. And the capsloc was necessary!
I adore Emma here, and the way she talks to Erik, I adore the connection between Azzy and Rip... this is absolutely priceless!
I really, really want to squish you right now! <33333
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This was all Charles' fault. Charles would never have let him go tease Azazel. If Charles was here, this would never had happened.
Now he had to fix it.
“Can't you just,” He waved his hand vaguely near his temple.
“Even if I wanted to help you, I can't. Azazel has a kind of telepathy, and Riptide is shielded.”
He sighed and sulked for an hour before he went and found Azazel, who seemed to be doing his damnedest to actually draw blood from the training dummy.
“Azazel,” He started.
“Nyet. I am in no mood for chores today.” Not for the first time, Erik wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into by taking on these people.
“Our discussion yesterday appears to have been misunderstood.”
Oh, well Azazel's tail was very sharp, wasn't it? Fascinating.
“Please get that away from my throat.” He ordered, as politely as possible.
“Let me make myself clear Lehnsherr. The relationship I have with Riptide is none of your concern, and you will stay away from him. You understand me, comrade?” He practically growled the word, and yes, Erik was a little bit nervous now. Not very, but a little, because though he was sure there was some metal somewhere in this room he could use, he was very sure Azazel's tail could go through his jugular faster.
“I do, yes. You make your point very clear.”
“Good.” The tail withdrew, and Erik breathed again.
“Thank you.” Azazel glared at him. Right then, time to make his point and vacate as fast as possible without appearing afraid. Despite being afraid. Emma had not been exaggerating, had she? The man really was unhinged. “Now, let's be clear. I am not, nor have I ever been, interested in Riptide.”
“I know you are not.” He went back to the training dummy, unwrapping the bandages he had tied around his knuckles as he went.
“Do you?” Erik asked, curious.
“You know, the sharks in South Africa, they are very interesting.” Azazel suddenly said, in a very conversational tone. Well, this as taking a predictably frightening turn. “Emma say, when you smile, is like shark. Maybe they will see you as kin.” His accent thickened when he was making threats, Erik noticed, the consonants becoming harder. “Maybe not.”
“Then it is a very good thing I am not interested in Riptide.” Erik confirmed, resisting the urge to back away. That would be a sign of weakness, and damn it, he was the leader here, despite the psychopathic Russian threatening to use him as shark bait. “I was only teasing.”
“Why would you do that, comrade?” Azazel asked, flexing his fingers, leaving the dirty bandages on the floor. “What is Riptide telling me that you think is so funny?”
“Perhaps you should add another language to your repertoire.”
“Perhaps I should add another skull to my shelf.” He repeated mockingly. Erik really did not want to know whether or not Azazel was trying to intimidate him. The thought of skulls being in the house was just revolting. Did the man have no normal habits?
“Oh for- he's saying he loves you.” Erik could not quite keep the note of disgust out of his voice. “And I'm not repeating what he tells you when you fuck. Suffice to say, it is enough to make me want to rip out my eardrums.”
“Knives are more efficient.” Azazel told him, in a distracted way. He seemed to be focusing on something for a moment, and then there was only smoke. There was a shout from down the hall, so Erik followed that to Angel, who was staring at the now empty seat beside her with wide eyes. Emma was filing her nails, while Mystique was copying pictures out of a magazine.
“Well?” He asked Emma, annoyed. She raised one perfect blonde eyebrow at him, then tilted her head up towards the ceiling. Even from the kitchen, on the opposite end of the house, he heard the moan from Riptide.
“Do I need to answer?”
“And I suddenly have the need to go out for lunch. Mystique, Emma?” Mystique stood, her form changing to the blonde face she had worn with Charles, and Emma did as well, straightening her white knit dress and fluffing her hair.
Erik stood there in the doorway, not sulking. At all.
“Oh fine,” Emma conceded, linking her arm through his in a serious infraction of his personal space. “You can come too.”
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Sulking!Erik just seemed like fun. He has a lot to sulk over right now, in any case.
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Thank you again for filling this <3
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And the chemistry was just there, with the funny little things Erik said, it was just sincerely well done. Just well done. I'm a little upset it's done but I suppose I'll just have to go wander about for some more Azazel/Riptide out there.. But well done. Well done indeed.
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Just for you.
Oh yes, I loved writing the scenes between Azazel and Erik, because I felt like this Azazel was exactly one snide comment away from causing Erik some serious damage.
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This is oddly cute, in a cracked-out kind of way.
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