Decade
Some Luck and Firo gen fluff, written as a bribe for haberdashing to go sleep. |D;
Decade
How long had it been this time? Luck leaned back in his chair, looking over to the side out the large window behind his desk. About ten years now, he mused quietly, steeling his fingers. Before, it was rare they'd go even ten days without seeing each other. And then, ten days had become ten weeks, ten weeks became ten months, and somehow, without either of them realizing it, a full decade had passed since they've last seen each other. Time mattered little now, but Luck would never admit how much he feared, how afraid he was that Firo had forgotten him, or that Firo had changed. Ten years is a long time, after all, even to one who was immortal.
He sighed, shutting his eyes and letting his head loll back, rolling his stiff shoulders. Hands slid through his hair and Luck reacted instinctively, gun raised and cocked--though laws against the possession of firearms had passed a few years ago, he was still most comfortable with the familiar weight nearby--pressing up against the head of the man he could not see behind him. There was a brief hesitation before those hands resumed their motions, petting and stroking Luck's hair as they moved down to rest on his shoulders. Luck relaxed. He knew that touch. "Firo."
"Luck," Firo responded easily, working his thumbs into the knot of strained muscle at the base of his neck. "You haven't been sleeping well again," he chided as he smoothed the tenseness out of Luck's shoulders. "If Keith and Berga knew--"
"If Keith and Berga knew, which they won't," Luck said with a sharp grin over at Firo, "they'd be annoyed, yes, but they cannot help when they are so far away. And I can handle things here until they come back." Firo sighed, opened his mouth before he was once again cut off, "We cannot accept your help or that of the Martillo. The problems that arise on our turf will be handled by us. Don't worry so much, Firo."
Clearly not pleased with Luck's answer, Firo still could not come up with a decent reply that wouldn't annoy his friend so he did what he could and huffed in exasperation. "Fine, fine," he said with a grin. "So tell me, Luck, how have you been? It's been a while, huh." Firo's smile was warm and open, as gentle as it had been the last time they'd spoken, and Luck was suddenly more grateful than ever that Firo had not changed as he'd feared.
"Well, thank you. Have you married Ennis yet?" And when Firo went red, stammering all sorts of silly excuses, Luck laughed, the happiest he'd been in years.
Decade
How long had it been this time? Luck leaned back in his chair, looking over to the side out the large window behind his desk. About ten years now, he mused quietly, steeling his fingers. Before, it was rare they'd go even ten days without seeing each other. And then, ten days had become ten weeks, ten weeks became ten months, and somehow, without either of them realizing it, a full decade had passed since they've last seen each other. Time mattered little now, but Luck would never admit how much he feared, how afraid he was that Firo had forgotten him, or that Firo had changed. Ten years is a long time, after all, even to one who was immortal.
He sighed, shutting his eyes and letting his head loll back, rolling his stiff shoulders. Hands slid through his hair and Luck reacted instinctively, gun raised and cocked--though laws against the possession of firearms had passed a few years ago, he was still most comfortable with the familiar weight nearby--pressing up against the head of the man he could not see behind him. There was a brief hesitation before those hands resumed their motions, petting and stroking Luck's hair as they moved down to rest on his shoulders. Luck relaxed. He knew that touch. "Firo."
"Luck," Firo responded easily, working his thumbs into the knot of strained muscle at the base of his neck. "You haven't been sleeping well again," he chided as he smoothed the tenseness out of Luck's shoulders. "If Keith and Berga knew--"
"If Keith and Berga knew, which they won't," Luck said with a sharp grin over at Firo, "they'd be annoyed, yes, but they cannot help when they are so far away. And I can handle things here until they come back." Firo sighed, opened his mouth before he was once again cut off, "We cannot accept your help or that of the Martillo. The problems that arise on our turf will be handled by us. Don't worry so much, Firo."
Clearly not pleased with Luck's answer, Firo still could not come up with a decent reply that wouldn't annoy his friend so he did what he could and huffed in exasperation. "Fine, fine," he said with a grin. "So tell me, Luck, how have you been? It's been a while, huh." Firo's smile was warm and open, as gentle as it had been the last time they'd spoken, and Luck was suddenly more grateful than ever that Firo had not changed as he'd feared.
"Well, thank you. Have you married Ennis yet?" And when Firo went red, stammering all sorts of silly excuses, Luck laughed, the happiest he'd been in years.