Fic - "Duty to You" (FFX) for not-cynical
Title: Duty to You
For: not-cynical
Medium: Fanfic
Request(s): FFX - Auron/Braska/Jecht (in any combination, at any level of relationship), the guardians conspiring to look after their summoner. Things that would be shiny but are completely not essential: Jecht trying to talk people into/out of things, Auron ABSOLUTELY NOT WORRYING AT ALL.
Fandom(s): FFX
Characters/Pairings: Auron/Jecht, with mentions of Braska
Rating/Warnings: PG/Lots of fluff and angst.
Feedback: I always love feedback! Please keep in mind that this hasn't been beta'd (missed that deadline like whoa) and try not to judge too harshly.
Spoilers: Not really.
Word Count: 1914
Summary: Jecht and Auron discuss their parts of Braska's pilgrimage and come to a mutual understanding.
Notes: I'm a Jecht/Auron shipper, but for some reason, this was hell for me to write and didn't come out at all like I expected. Anyway, I hope you like it, despite its shortcomings.
"Relax for once in your life. Have a drink!"
Auron didn't have time to reply before a cool mug of something was thrust into his hands. Some of it slopped over the rim and onto his pants; he grumbled in annoyance and looked up at Jecht. "How much have you had so far? Are you drunk?"
In the flickering firelight, Jecht's grin was wolf-like. "Nah, haven't touched a drop," he boasted. He folded his long legs and drops with surprising grace onto the ground, then leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed behind his head. "'Sides, this shit they call wine's more like vinegar."
"And how would you know?" Auron sniffed suspiciously at the drink. It was the same color as Jecht's eyes, he thought, and was then annoyed at himself for noticing. He surreptitiously poured the wine through the gaps in the stones of the temple courtyard and hoped that in the dark, no one would notice and be offended. The crowd was still surrounding Lord Braska, anyway, as was proper. The summoner had spent the morning sending their dead and the afternoon paying penance to their fayth; the night's celebration was Braska's due. People had crawled to him, braving the Mushroom Rock in large groups for protection for a chance to touch the hem of Lord Braska's robes. Over the sea of heads, Auron could see the top of Braska's cowl, the ribbons bouncing as he moved through the crowd. He wished, knowing how selfish it was, that Lord Braska would retire for the night or at least retreat from the party to sit with them. Being alone with Jecht was distracting.
Jecht was unconcerned, as usual, and snorted and closed his eyes. "Relax. It won't kill ya. Wanna get somethin' to eat?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"I'm busy."
"Doin' what? Sittin' on your ass?" He opened one eye and grinned again, his voice dipping low. "C'mon, I can show ya a good time."
"A guardian's duty cannot be suspended." Auron said, although the words tasted like dust on his tongue. He looked back at the massive bonfire and the swaying dancers while he struggled to repair his disaffected expression.
"Nothin's gonna happen. C'mon, have fun for once. No one'll even know we left," he added, sly and cajoling. "Sides, what's a fiend gonna do? Start dancin'? There's gotta be a hundred people here!"
"And that's exactly why I - and you - must be on guard." Someone knocked into a table and fruit spilled onto the stones to be squashed by the unobservant.
"You think they even notice ya over here? C'mon. Braska doesn't keep ya on a chain, right?"
"Lord Braska depends on-"
"Yeah, yeah. He'll understand. C'mon. I'll teach ya how to swim."
There was a ripple, as if they were in the water already, and Auron felt an ache that wasn't alleviated when he shifted his weight. "A guardian is expected to-"
"Yeah." Jecht snapped the word, then exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "I say you're crazy."
Auron didn't respond to that and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Finally Jecht yawned and stretched, nonchalant, then lay on his side on the ground, propped up on one elbow to watch the party. Auron folded his arms in his sleeves and surveyed the scene as well, the undulating of the crowds, the patterns of firelight against the trees. From his post at the wall he could see the entire festival. He could sense his sword at his side, the lightning-white edge sharp, ready to attack at a whisper. The night was still, however, and had been for hours. As much as he tried to stay focused, his gaze kept returning to Jecht. Out of the corner of Auron's eye he could see Jecht's face, see the scars he wore like badges. His chest was, as always, distractingly bare, the tattoo rising and falling with every breath. As if he sensed Auron's stare, Jecht stoked the black angles of the symbol with long, lazy fingers. Auron closed his eyes and tried to remember his meditation breathing.
Jecht jammed his toes into Auron's ribs, startling him out of his revelry. "Yo. You asleep?"
"No." Now there was a brown footprint on his coat. He shoved Jecht's foot away with unnecessary force.
"Wanna dance?"
"No."
Jecht rolled onto his back with a groan. "Nothin's gonna happen." He grumbled. "Nothin' has happened. Ate a lot. Waited a while. Slept in the sun. Waited in the temple. Ate a lot."
"And slept in the temple. We have a duty, Jecht," he said firmly to remind himself as well. "Maybe you should add more guarding to your schedule."
"Course I do that. Braska..." Jecht paused, frowned. "I promised him I would. That I'd protect him."
"To the death?"
He expected a flippant response, but Jecht's face was uncharacteristically serious. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd die for him. For you, too."
Auron could feel his blood creep up into his face and hoped again that the darkness was a good enough cover. He couldn't prepare a defense when Jecht's attacks were so damn wild, so all he did was stare uselessly in surprise.
Jecht barked a laugh and sat up. "Why not, right? Not goin' back to Zanarkand any time soon. Hangin' around ain't so bad." He draped himself over Auron's shoulders and laughed again, though it was softer and lower now, conspiratorial. "Maybe I'm startin' to like it here."
He smelled like smoke and the sea. He, or one of the girls, had used his bandanna to pull his hair into an off-centered half-ponytail, a chaos of gravity-defining black; with his hair back, Auron could see his face unobstructed, the puckered scars, the shadow of scuff over his jaw. And when he leaned in, Auron could count each white tooth in his sharp smile. "This is a serious matter," Auron said when he at last found his voice.
"I ain't kiddin'." Another chuckle like a cat's purr, which stirred the pyreflies in Auron's chest. "Hey, you're cute when ya blush."
"Get off me, Jecht."
Jecht huffed a sigh and slid his arm away, but still leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. Auron shrugged but Jecht refused to take the hint, pressing over even harder. Auron could feel Jecht's heat seep through his jacket. He looked away determinedly and tried to find Lord Braska again, if only to have something to focus on. He was not going to give Jecht the satisfaction of knowing how the other man unnerved him. Meditative breathing, he reminded himself. He just had to rely on his meditative breathing, like the monks had taught him.
"Hey, wanna dance?"
"You already asked me."
"So?" Jecht's breath was warm against Auron's neck. "Whadda say?"
"I'm not one of your adoring fans. Go back to dancing with the townswomen, if you're so bored." Auron shrugged again and Jecht finally slid away, allowing Auron to catch his breath and repair his unraveling self-control. Jecht simply wanted a rise out of him, to discover an exploitable kink. What Jecht said, no matter how close he was when he said it, or the husky tone of his voice, or the suggestive curve of his lips, Auron had to keep his head cool.
"Ain't bored. And can't help that the ladies love me," he drawled with lazy insolence. "Hey, you're jealous, ain't ya?"
"I have neither the time nor inclination to flirt with the locals."
Jecht chuckled. "That ain't what I meant."
"I have neither the time or inclination to flirt with you." His directness surprised both of them; from the corner of his eye, Auron could see Jecht's eyebrows shoot upward. He scowled and opened his mouth to launch into another attack, but Auron cut him off before Jecht could find the lie in his words. "There is nothing in Spira for us but Braska's pilgrimage. I exist only to guard him." Each word was like a brick to reinforce the barrier between them. "From the day - the moment - I stepped into Bevelle's temple, it's been my duty to serve Yevon. My fate. Even though I'm..." He paused to find the right word in the stinging bile that the memory always brought up. "Even though I'm no longer part of the clergy."
"Yeah, but-"
"I've been trained from birth. I've been repenting since birth. And you-"
"What?"
"You should be, too," Auron said, turning to stare at Jecht, "since it was by the grace of Yevon that you're here."
The air was hot and heavy, almost too much to breath. At last Jecht shook his head slowly. "You're too much monk."
"Too much-"
"And I dunno about Yevon, but Braska seems fine with livin' a little. You and Braska's all I care about. Your Yevon and your Sin don't mean anything to me."
"How can you-"
"Whadda ya want?" Jecht leaned back, surveying Auron with a curious expression. "Well?"
"What do I-"
"Want. Yeah. What do you want?" He emphasized each word so each was like a small punch. "Anyone ever ask ya that? Whadda ya want?"
"I fail to see how that matters."
"Cuz I wanna go home and see my boy again. And I wanna stop sleeping on the damn ground - Hurts my ass. Whadda ya want?"
"What I want doesn't matter." He replied, knowing how lame his sidestep was. It didn't matter, nor should it, the monks had told him. That had been a hard lesson for him to accept as a child. And perhaps he hadn't really accepted it; if he had, he would have married the high priest's daughter. But answering the question required a vulnerability that a guardian couldn't have. "I'm a vessel-"
"It matters to me."
Auron could feel the pyreflies thrumming in his pulse. "Why should it matter to you?"
"It does."
"I've had enough of this conversation." Auron began to rise to his feet, but Jecht's hand shot out, and his long fingers wrapped around Auron's wrist and held him tight. He looked down at the other man in surprise and Jecht glared back up at him.
"Whadda want?" He demanded again. A crack of lightning from the temple lit up the night and for a moment, Jecht's scars were like coeurl stripes. "If ya don't want me to, I won't. But I think ya do. I think that ya ain't just a monk. And ya ain't just a guardian. Cuz I know I'm more than that shit. And Braska is, too."
"If I don't want you to do what?"
"This." He stretched up as he yanked at Auron's wrist, and Auron bent his knees to keep from toppling over. Jecht's hand was warm, hot, scorching; his eyes bright, shining, intense; his grin teasing, expecting, knowing. Auron could have pulled back. In two steps he could shift his weight and use the energy from his stumble to launch him forward and away. Instead he opened his mouth so that when they kissed, he shared Jecht's breath.
For: not-cynical
Medium: Fanfic
Request(s): FFX - Auron/Braska/Jecht (in any combination, at any level of relationship), the guardians conspiring to look after their summoner. Things that would be shiny but are completely not essential: Jecht trying to talk people into/out of things, Auron ABSOLUTELY NOT WORRYING AT ALL.
Fandom(s): FFX
Characters/Pairings: Auron/Jecht, with mentions of Braska
Rating/Warnings: PG/Lots of fluff and angst.
Feedback: I always love feedback! Please keep in mind that this hasn't been beta'd (missed that deadline like whoa) and try not to judge too harshly.
Spoilers: Not really.
Word Count: 1914
Summary: Jecht and Auron discuss their parts of Braska's pilgrimage and come to a mutual understanding.
Notes: I'm a Jecht/Auron shipper, but for some reason, this was hell for me to write and didn't come out at all like I expected. Anyway, I hope you like it, despite its shortcomings.
"Relax for once in your life. Have a drink!"
Auron didn't have time to reply before a cool mug of something was thrust into his hands. Some of it slopped over the rim and onto his pants; he grumbled in annoyance and looked up at Jecht. "How much have you had so far? Are you drunk?"
In the flickering firelight, Jecht's grin was wolf-like. "Nah, haven't touched a drop," he boasted. He folded his long legs and drops with surprising grace onto the ground, then leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed behind his head. "'Sides, this shit they call wine's more like vinegar."
"And how would you know?" Auron sniffed suspiciously at the drink. It was the same color as Jecht's eyes, he thought, and was then annoyed at himself for noticing. He surreptitiously poured the wine through the gaps in the stones of the temple courtyard and hoped that in the dark, no one would notice and be offended. The crowd was still surrounding Lord Braska, anyway, as was proper. The summoner had spent the morning sending their dead and the afternoon paying penance to their fayth; the night's celebration was Braska's due. People had crawled to him, braving the Mushroom Rock in large groups for protection for a chance to touch the hem of Lord Braska's robes. Over the sea of heads, Auron could see the top of Braska's cowl, the ribbons bouncing as he moved through the crowd. He wished, knowing how selfish it was, that Lord Braska would retire for the night or at least retreat from the party to sit with them. Being alone with Jecht was distracting.
Jecht was unconcerned, as usual, and snorted and closed his eyes. "Relax. It won't kill ya. Wanna get somethin' to eat?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"I'm busy."
"Doin' what? Sittin' on your ass?" He opened one eye and grinned again, his voice dipping low. "C'mon, I can show ya a good time."
"A guardian's duty cannot be suspended." Auron said, although the words tasted like dust on his tongue. He looked back at the massive bonfire and the swaying dancers while he struggled to repair his disaffected expression.
"Nothin's gonna happen. C'mon, have fun for once. No one'll even know we left," he added, sly and cajoling. "Sides, what's a fiend gonna do? Start dancin'? There's gotta be a hundred people here!"
"And that's exactly why I - and you - must be on guard." Someone knocked into a table and fruit spilled onto the stones to be squashed by the unobservant.
"You think they even notice ya over here? C'mon. Braska doesn't keep ya on a chain, right?"
"Lord Braska depends on-"
"Yeah, yeah. He'll understand. C'mon. I'll teach ya how to swim."
There was a ripple, as if they were in the water already, and Auron felt an ache that wasn't alleviated when he shifted his weight. "A guardian is expected to-"
"Yeah." Jecht snapped the word, then exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "I say you're crazy."
Auron didn't respond to that and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Finally Jecht yawned and stretched, nonchalant, then lay on his side on the ground, propped up on one elbow to watch the party. Auron folded his arms in his sleeves and surveyed the scene as well, the undulating of the crowds, the patterns of firelight against the trees. From his post at the wall he could see the entire festival. He could sense his sword at his side, the lightning-white edge sharp, ready to attack at a whisper. The night was still, however, and had been for hours. As much as he tried to stay focused, his gaze kept returning to Jecht. Out of the corner of Auron's eye he could see Jecht's face, see the scars he wore like badges. His chest was, as always, distractingly bare, the tattoo rising and falling with every breath. As if he sensed Auron's stare, Jecht stoked the black angles of the symbol with long, lazy fingers. Auron closed his eyes and tried to remember his meditation breathing.
Jecht jammed his toes into Auron's ribs, startling him out of his revelry. "Yo. You asleep?"
"No." Now there was a brown footprint on his coat. He shoved Jecht's foot away with unnecessary force.
"Wanna dance?"
"No."
Jecht rolled onto his back with a groan. "Nothin's gonna happen." He grumbled. "Nothin' has happened. Ate a lot. Waited a while. Slept in the sun. Waited in the temple. Ate a lot."
"And slept in the temple. We have a duty, Jecht," he said firmly to remind himself as well. "Maybe you should add more guarding to your schedule."
"Course I do that. Braska..." Jecht paused, frowned. "I promised him I would. That I'd protect him."
"To the death?"
He expected a flippant response, but Jecht's face was uncharacteristically serious. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd die for him. For you, too."
Auron could feel his blood creep up into his face and hoped again that the darkness was a good enough cover. He couldn't prepare a defense when Jecht's attacks were so damn wild, so all he did was stare uselessly in surprise.
Jecht barked a laugh and sat up. "Why not, right? Not goin' back to Zanarkand any time soon. Hangin' around ain't so bad." He draped himself over Auron's shoulders and laughed again, though it was softer and lower now, conspiratorial. "Maybe I'm startin' to like it here."
He smelled like smoke and the sea. He, or one of the girls, had used his bandanna to pull his hair into an off-centered half-ponytail, a chaos of gravity-defining black; with his hair back, Auron could see his face unobstructed, the puckered scars, the shadow of scuff over his jaw. And when he leaned in, Auron could count each white tooth in his sharp smile. "This is a serious matter," Auron said when he at last found his voice.
"I ain't kiddin'." Another chuckle like a cat's purr, which stirred the pyreflies in Auron's chest. "Hey, you're cute when ya blush."
"Get off me, Jecht."
Jecht huffed a sigh and slid his arm away, but still leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. Auron shrugged but Jecht refused to take the hint, pressing over even harder. Auron could feel Jecht's heat seep through his jacket. He looked away determinedly and tried to find Lord Braska again, if only to have something to focus on. He was not going to give Jecht the satisfaction of knowing how the other man unnerved him. Meditative breathing, he reminded himself. He just had to rely on his meditative breathing, like the monks had taught him.
"Hey, wanna dance?"
"You already asked me."
"So?" Jecht's breath was warm against Auron's neck. "Whadda say?"
"I'm not one of your adoring fans. Go back to dancing with the townswomen, if you're so bored." Auron shrugged again and Jecht finally slid away, allowing Auron to catch his breath and repair his unraveling self-control. Jecht simply wanted a rise out of him, to discover an exploitable kink. What Jecht said, no matter how close he was when he said it, or the husky tone of his voice, or the suggestive curve of his lips, Auron had to keep his head cool.
"Ain't bored. And can't help that the ladies love me," he drawled with lazy insolence. "Hey, you're jealous, ain't ya?"
"I have neither the time nor inclination to flirt with the locals."
Jecht chuckled. "That ain't what I meant."
"I have neither the time or inclination to flirt with you." His directness surprised both of them; from the corner of his eye, Auron could see Jecht's eyebrows shoot upward. He scowled and opened his mouth to launch into another attack, but Auron cut him off before Jecht could find the lie in his words. "There is nothing in Spira for us but Braska's pilgrimage. I exist only to guard him." Each word was like a brick to reinforce the barrier between them. "From the day - the moment - I stepped into Bevelle's temple, it's been my duty to serve Yevon. My fate. Even though I'm..." He paused to find the right word in the stinging bile that the memory always brought up. "Even though I'm no longer part of the clergy."
"Yeah, but-"
"I've been trained from birth. I've been repenting since birth. And you-"
"What?"
"You should be, too," Auron said, turning to stare at Jecht, "since it was by the grace of Yevon that you're here."
The air was hot and heavy, almost too much to breath. At last Jecht shook his head slowly. "You're too much monk."
"Too much-"
"And I dunno about Yevon, but Braska seems fine with livin' a little. You and Braska's all I care about. Your Yevon and your Sin don't mean anything to me."
"How can you-"
"Whadda ya want?" Jecht leaned back, surveying Auron with a curious expression. "Well?"
"What do I-"
"Want. Yeah. What do you want?" He emphasized each word so each was like a small punch. "Anyone ever ask ya that? Whadda ya want?"
"I fail to see how that matters."
"Cuz I wanna go home and see my boy again. And I wanna stop sleeping on the damn ground - Hurts my ass. Whadda ya want?"
"What I want doesn't matter." He replied, knowing how lame his sidestep was. It didn't matter, nor should it, the monks had told him. That had been a hard lesson for him to accept as a child. And perhaps he hadn't really accepted it; if he had, he would have married the high priest's daughter. But answering the question required a vulnerability that a guardian couldn't have. "I'm a vessel-"
"It matters to me."
Auron could feel the pyreflies thrumming in his pulse. "Why should it matter to you?"
"It does."
"I've had enough of this conversation." Auron began to rise to his feet, but Jecht's hand shot out, and his long fingers wrapped around Auron's wrist and held him tight. He looked down at the other man in surprise and Jecht glared back up at him.
"Whadda want?" He demanded again. A crack of lightning from the temple lit up the night and for a moment, Jecht's scars were like coeurl stripes. "If ya don't want me to, I won't. But I think ya do. I think that ya ain't just a monk. And ya ain't just a guardian. Cuz I know I'm more than that shit. And Braska is, too."
"If I don't want you to do what?"
"This." He stretched up as he yanked at Auron's wrist, and Auron bent his knees to keep from toppling over. Jecht's hand was warm, hot, scorching; his eyes bright, shining, intense; his grin teasing, expecting, knowing. Auron could have pulled back. In two steps he could shift his weight and use the energy from his stumble to launch him forward and away. Instead he opened his mouth so that when they kissed, he shared Jecht's breath.