You're the only one I ever believed in, the answer that could never be found...
LOL, apparently JT won the annual Cobham Pool Tournament this morning! We'll never hear the end of it now, especially since he beat Lamps along the way. Let's just hope that's not the only silverware JT gets his hands on this weekend! *crosses everything*
The nerves about the Final are really starting to kick in now and I've been trying to distract myself in all sorts of unsuccessful ways, including doing actual work at work. I know, I know...but desperate times call for desperate measures. Not that I'm managing to get anything done; I'm just distractedly flailing from one thing to the next much as I have all month. In fact the only thing I've successfully accomplished since my vacation was finally finishing the promised Walls Will Fall trilogy. Et voilà:
Title: Where We Begin
Fandom: Banlieue 13-Ultimatum
Disclaimer: Not mine, tragiquement.
Word count: 1,664 words, rated M
Summary: and I know you're so much more/everything they ignore is all I need to see
A/N: Follows Caught and Walls Will Fall (Before We Do). Title, summary, and tag are lyrics from Let Love In by the Goo Goo Dolls.
Where We Begin
When Damien wakes for a few disconcerting seconds he doesn’t know where he is, only that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’s tired and bruised as he often is during or after an assignment but he doesn’t remember being undercover. He’s also sore in some interesting places, he realizes then, and his skin heats as memory returns abruptly. Damien waits for his heartbeat to slow to normal, then rolls over in Leïto’s bed.
The space beside him is cool and empty. A hollow feeling rises in the back of Damien’s throat until he sees Leïto standing at the window, dimly silhouetted against the lights of the city, the tattoos scattered over his body visible only as indistinct black shapes. Damien has rarely seen him so still and never so unguarded; he finds his gaze lingering on stubborn features and welcomes the chance to study Leïto for a moment.
There’s a new tattoo on Leïto’s left arm, a scar on his cheekbone that wasn’t there two years ago. More than a few other marks, both old and new, are dotted across his back and shoulders, pale against weathered skin and black ink. Damien’s eyes follow the paths his hands have already mapped and with a familiar rush of resentment he adds each wound to his tally of reasons to despise what his government has become. He knows Leïto bears deeper scars, too, the kind that he can’t see, and maybe some of those are Damien’s fault, in a way. But he’s doing his best to make things right and Leïto has shown in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t bear a grudge.
Damien feels his pulse quickening again, remembering. He thinks suddenly of his colleagues on the force, the ones who used to tease him about wanting to be a hero and trying to clean up the city by himself. He imagines what they would say if they knew how he’s been spending his time, conspiring with criminals and literally in bed with the kind of guy he’s spent his entire career trying to put behind bars.
But Damien hasn’t thought of Leïto that way in a long time. Beneath all the ink and attitude is a man who wants the same things he does, who’s willing to fight for those ideals the way Damien has all his life. As improbable as it seems they’ve always been allies in this war, even before they knew each other and even if they still disagree about which tactics work best. Besides, so much has changed since he first met Leïto, including Damien himself. So many things he once thought he knew have been turned upside-down, until somewhere along the way trusting Leïto became the only thing that still makes sense.
And right from the first there’s been something beyond the kinship of soldiers between them, though perhaps Damien was slow to recognize it. He feels a connection with Leïto that he hasn’t felt with anyone else in years. Somehow Leïto understands him, sees the man behind all the masks just as he saw through ‘Fantômas’ the day they met. It’s a relief to be recognized as himself, to be just Damien and not dutiful Capitaine Tomaso or some criminal’s lackey. Despite what Damien’s colleagues would think it’s not actually a surprise that he ended up here instead of back in his apartment on the other side of the wall, in the bed that’s always empty and the dusty rooms that have never really felt like home. Maybe the only real surprise is how long it took him to get here.
Damien sighs. It’s too late for regrets now. He follows Leïto’s gaze out the window where the sky remains dark and faint stars flicker on the horizon beyond the lights of the city. There are still a few hours yet before dawn, before they have to make their last desperate throw of the dice. Damien has no illusions about the odds they will face then. As a soldier he knows he should be thinking over their strategies again, examining every detail and considering every possible complication. It doesn’t matter that they’ve already gone over the plan a dozen times because there is never any excuse to assume they’ve thought of everything that might go wrong.
Yet now, lying in Leïto’s rumpled bed, the focus that has kept Damien alive on even the riskiest assignments completely deserts him. All he can think about is the slide of skin against skin and Leïto’s hands on him, strong and sure in the darkness. This one night may be their first and last taste of all that might have been, and he has no intention of wasting it.
Damien sits up, stretching a little gingerly, and Leïto turns to face him. For a moment he’s silent, just looking, then-
‘You snore,’ he observes casually. ‘Maybe I should kick you out.’ His eyes glint; it’s too dark to see their expression but Damien can hear the smile in his voice as Leïto comes back to bed.
‘Maybe you should try,’ he replies evenly, settling more comfortably into the pillows. Leïto grins at the challenge, a flash of white in the dim, and leans right into Damien’s space, not touching but close enough for Damien to feel the heat of his skin. Damien wills himself not to move, though his heart is already hammering painfully in his chest and the look on Leïto’s face is making his breath hitch.
‘Maybe I have a better idea,’ Leïto says, his voice a low hum against Damien’s jaw, and curls both hands around his shoulders to pin him down.
This time the kiss is unhurried, lingering and long enough to leave them both gasping. Damien lets his hands slide over the contours of Leïto’s back, feeling muscle tense and quiver under his touch, Leïto’s heart beating as fiercely as his own. It’s heady, knowing he can affect Leïto this way, and the small part of his mind that can still think coherently with Leïto’s mouth on his wonders how he managed to survive so long without this.
He’s more than a little light-headed by the time Leïto releases him and draws away, panting. Damien takes a few uneven breaths of his own and when he opens his eyes Leïto is looking at him thoughtfully, brows knitting at the sight of the bruises still darkening on his body. That fight seems like a lifetime ago now as Leïto reaches out and runs his hands slowly over purpled skin. His palms are rough with calluses but his touch is surprisingly light, almost tentative. Damien shivers.
‘How did you get this?’ Leïto asks him softly, fingertips brushing the long scar beneath his ribs.
Damien glances down at the scar, seeing instead the sudden flash of a knife and his own blood welling hot and bright against the blade. After all this time he still feels an echo of pain at the memory.
‘I...overestimated my last partner,’ he says finally.
‘He betrayed you?’ Leïto’s voice is hard with anger, his body tense and hands suddenly still.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Damien assures him quickly. ‘Marcel was a good cop, he just...couldn’t always keep his cool in a fight.’ He sighs, remembering other close calls, his partner laughing off his concern and attempted warnings. If only he’d tried harder to make Marcel see the risk he was taking...
‘What happened?’ prompts Leïto, interrupting that familiar, futile line of thought.
‘One night he made a mistake,’ Damien answers simply. ‘I got this,’ he draws a finger along the scar, ‘and Marcel’s wife got a nice wreath of flowers from the squad.’
Leïto swears under his breath. ‘And you’ve worked alone since then?’ he asks quietly after a moment.
Damien nods. ‘It was easier that way. I used to think so, anyway,’ he adds, throat tightening when he catches the intensity in Leïto’s gaze.
Eyes never leaving his, Leïto leans forward until they are nearly nose to nose and says, ‘You think too much.’
Damien has a response to that but Leïto is already moving and all that comes out is a gasp, quickly smothered as Leïto bends to fuse their mouths again. His body is heavy and hard against Damien’s, nothing like a woman’s; it should be strange but instead it just feels right. More than right, actually. Damien bites back a moan when Leïto’s mouth dips to the sensitive spot below his jaw, stubble rasping lightly across his throat. He clutches Leïto’s shoulders with unsteady hands, fingertips leaving new marks on inked skin, until Leïto draws away enough to whisper a ragged question.
‘How much time do we have left?’
Damien swallows thickly, heart stuttering in his chest. The urgency that had gripped them both before has faded but the same heat, the same hunger coils in his gut when he hears the raw need in Leïto’s voice.
‘Long enough,’ he decides, tugging Leïto down again.
Leïto’s arms tighten around him immediately yet Damien kisses him slowly, struggling to master his own yearning, because if this is to be their only night together he’s determined to savor it. He senses Leïto holding back too, returning his kiss as if they have all the time in the world even when they’re both shaking with want. Damien twists trembling fingers into messy hair, fits his other hand to the curve of Leïto’s hip. He can’t stop himself from straining closer and Leïto makes a broken, needy sound in the back of his throat, molding his body to Damien’s like he was made for just that purpose.
Damien shudders violently, breathless and aching. He’s still not used to wanting like this, to losing control this easily, this completely. It’s almost unbearable, even terrifying, and just as unexpected as the way Leïto so clearly wants him too. And maybe he never will get used to it, but Damien knows he will do anything it takes to make sure he has the chance to try.
The nerves about the Final are really starting to kick in now and I've been trying to distract myself in all sorts of unsuccessful ways, including doing actual work at work. I know, I know...but desperate times call for desperate measures. Not that I'm managing to get anything done; I'm just distractedly flailing from one thing to the next much as I have all month. In fact the only thing I've successfully accomplished since my vacation was finally finishing the promised Walls Will Fall trilogy. Et voilà:
Title: Where We Begin
Fandom: Banlieue 13-Ultimatum
Disclaimer: Not mine, tragiquement.
Word count: 1,664 words, rated M
Summary: and I know you're so much more/everything they ignore is all I need to see
A/N: Follows Caught and Walls Will Fall (Before We Do). Title, summary, and tag are lyrics from Let Love In by the Goo Goo Dolls.
Where We Begin
When Damien wakes for a few disconcerting seconds he doesn’t know where he is, only that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’s tired and bruised as he often is during or after an assignment but he doesn’t remember being undercover. He’s also sore in some interesting places, he realizes then, and his skin heats as memory returns abruptly. Damien waits for his heartbeat to slow to normal, then rolls over in Leïto’s bed.
The space beside him is cool and empty. A hollow feeling rises in the back of Damien’s throat until he sees Leïto standing at the window, dimly silhouetted against the lights of the city, the tattoos scattered over his body visible only as indistinct black shapes. Damien has rarely seen him so still and never so unguarded; he finds his gaze lingering on stubborn features and welcomes the chance to study Leïto for a moment.
There’s a new tattoo on Leïto’s left arm, a scar on his cheekbone that wasn’t there two years ago. More than a few other marks, both old and new, are dotted across his back and shoulders, pale against weathered skin and black ink. Damien’s eyes follow the paths his hands have already mapped and with a familiar rush of resentment he adds each wound to his tally of reasons to despise what his government has become. He knows Leïto bears deeper scars, too, the kind that he can’t see, and maybe some of those are Damien’s fault, in a way. But he’s doing his best to make things right and Leïto has shown in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t bear a grudge.
Damien feels his pulse quickening again, remembering. He thinks suddenly of his colleagues on the force, the ones who used to tease him about wanting to be a hero and trying to clean up the city by himself. He imagines what they would say if they knew how he’s been spending his time, conspiring with criminals and literally in bed with the kind of guy he’s spent his entire career trying to put behind bars.
But Damien hasn’t thought of Leïto that way in a long time. Beneath all the ink and attitude is a man who wants the same things he does, who’s willing to fight for those ideals the way Damien has all his life. As improbable as it seems they’ve always been allies in this war, even before they knew each other and even if they still disagree about which tactics work best. Besides, so much has changed since he first met Leïto, including Damien himself. So many things he once thought he knew have been turned upside-down, until somewhere along the way trusting Leïto became the only thing that still makes sense.
And right from the first there’s been something beyond the kinship of soldiers between them, though perhaps Damien was slow to recognize it. He feels a connection with Leïto that he hasn’t felt with anyone else in years. Somehow Leïto understands him, sees the man behind all the masks just as he saw through ‘Fantômas’ the day they met. It’s a relief to be recognized as himself, to be just Damien and not dutiful Capitaine Tomaso or some criminal’s lackey. Despite what Damien’s colleagues would think it’s not actually a surprise that he ended up here instead of back in his apartment on the other side of the wall, in the bed that’s always empty and the dusty rooms that have never really felt like home. Maybe the only real surprise is how long it took him to get here.
Damien sighs. It’s too late for regrets now. He follows Leïto’s gaze out the window where the sky remains dark and faint stars flicker on the horizon beyond the lights of the city. There are still a few hours yet before dawn, before they have to make their last desperate throw of the dice. Damien has no illusions about the odds they will face then. As a soldier he knows he should be thinking over their strategies again, examining every detail and considering every possible complication. It doesn’t matter that they’ve already gone over the plan a dozen times because there is never any excuse to assume they’ve thought of everything that might go wrong.
Yet now, lying in Leïto’s rumpled bed, the focus that has kept Damien alive on even the riskiest assignments completely deserts him. All he can think about is the slide of skin against skin and Leïto’s hands on him, strong and sure in the darkness. This one night may be their first and last taste of all that might have been, and he has no intention of wasting it.
Damien sits up, stretching a little gingerly, and Leïto turns to face him. For a moment he’s silent, just looking, then-
‘You snore,’ he observes casually. ‘Maybe I should kick you out.’ His eyes glint; it’s too dark to see their expression but Damien can hear the smile in his voice as Leïto comes back to bed.
‘Maybe you should try,’ he replies evenly, settling more comfortably into the pillows. Leïto grins at the challenge, a flash of white in the dim, and leans right into Damien’s space, not touching but close enough for Damien to feel the heat of his skin. Damien wills himself not to move, though his heart is already hammering painfully in his chest and the look on Leïto’s face is making his breath hitch.
‘Maybe I have a better idea,’ Leïto says, his voice a low hum against Damien’s jaw, and curls both hands around his shoulders to pin him down.
This time the kiss is unhurried, lingering and long enough to leave them both gasping. Damien lets his hands slide over the contours of Leïto’s back, feeling muscle tense and quiver under his touch, Leïto’s heart beating as fiercely as his own. It’s heady, knowing he can affect Leïto this way, and the small part of his mind that can still think coherently with Leïto’s mouth on his wonders how he managed to survive so long without this.
He’s more than a little light-headed by the time Leïto releases him and draws away, panting. Damien takes a few uneven breaths of his own and when he opens his eyes Leïto is looking at him thoughtfully, brows knitting at the sight of the bruises still darkening on his body. That fight seems like a lifetime ago now as Leïto reaches out and runs his hands slowly over purpled skin. His palms are rough with calluses but his touch is surprisingly light, almost tentative. Damien shivers.
‘How did you get this?’ Leïto asks him softly, fingertips brushing the long scar beneath his ribs.
Damien glances down at the scar, seeing instead the sudden flash of a knife and his own blood welling hot and bright against the blade. After all this time he still feels an echo of pain at the memory.
‘I...overestimated my last partner,’ he says finally.
‘He betrayed you?’ Leïto’s voice is hard with anger, his body tense and hands suddenly still.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Damien assures him quickly. ‘Marcel was a good cop, he just...couldn’t always keep his cool in a fight.’ He sighs, remembering other close calls, his partner laughing off his concern and attempted warnings. If only he’d tried harder to make Marcel see the risk he was taking...
‘What happened?’ prompts Leïto, interrupting that familiar, futile line of thought.
‘One night he made a mistake,’ Damien answers simply. ‘I got this,’ he draws a finger along the scar, ‘and Marcel’s wife got a nice wreath of flowers from the squad.’
Leïto swears under his breath. ‘And you’ve worked alone since then?’ he asks quietly after a moment.
Damien nods. ‘It was easier that way. I used to think so, anyway,’ he adds, throat tightening when he catches the intensity in Leïto’s gaze.
Eyes never leaving his, Leïto leans forward until they are nearly nose to nose and says, ‘You think too much.’
Damien has a response to that but Leïto is already moving and all that comes out is a gasp, quickly smothered as Leïto bends to fuse their mouths again. His body is heavy and hard against Damien’s, nothing like a woman’s; it should be strange but instead it just feels right. More than right, actually. Damien bites back a moan when Leïto’s mouth dips to the sensitive spot below his jaw, stubble rasping lightly across his throat. He clutches Leïto’s shoulders with unsteady hands, fingertips leaving new marks on inked skin, until Leïto draws away enough to whisper a ragged question.
‘How much time do we have left?’
Damien swallows thickly, heart stuttering in his chest. The urgency that had gripped them both before has faded but the same heat, the same hunger coils in his gut when he hears the raw need in Leïto’s voice.
‘Long enough,’ he decides, tugging Leïto down again.
Leïto’s arms tighten around him immediately yet Damien kisses him slowly, struggling to master his own yearning, because if this is to be their only night together he’s determined to savor it. He senses Leïto holding back too, returning his kiss as if they have all the time in the world even when they’re both shaking with want. Damien twists trembling fingers into messy hair, fits his other hand to the curve of Leïto’s hip. He can’t stop himself from straining closer and Leïto makes a broken, needy sound in the back of his throat, molding his body to Damien’s like he was made for just that purpose.
Damien shudders violently, breathless and aching. He’s still not used to wanting like this, to losing control this easily, this completely. It’s almost unbearable, even terrifying, and just as unexpected as the way Leïto so clearly wants him too. And maybe he never will get used to it, but Damien knows he will do anything it takes to make sure he has the chance to try.