(no subject)
Challenge: Blanket Scenario
Title: Won't Tell a Soul
"...I hate this island so much."
Words uttered many times over the past two or three years for many different reasons, and none quite like this. Count on the island for being creative and cliché, Fakir thought, in the most infuriating way possible. He'd woken up out of his hut and inside what could only be described as a shack, barren aside from a moldy wooden table, a dirty rug, a fireplace topped with a pile of snow, and, looking very out of place, one pale blue fleece blanket, looking new and pristine and folded innocently on top of the table.
Oh, and Yusuke Urameshi, against the other wall, arms folded, with a face that could almost match the pure annoyance that was on Fakir's. "What'd you do this time, write a story about you 'n me? I always thought you were one of those quiet, creepy types!"
Fakir had never been more tempted to pick something up and throw it at him, but in such an enclosed space and during such intense weather, it wasn't a good idea. He would look outside the shack's window if only the snow wasn't piled up that high. He would try leaving except all attempts to open, break, or otherwise destroy that door had failed miserably. And believe me, they tried. And when Yusuke tried, there was usually a crater left behind.
So now the only noise was, if you listened close enough, the aggravated breathing of the two and the raging wind abusing the roof of the shack. It was cold, no doubt about that. In fact, Fakir was pretty sure it was just as cold outside as it was in, if maybe a degree warmer from the pure and utter tension that choked the room. Fakir's only response to Yusuke's insult was an angered huff, and a sullen "As if I'd ever willingly subject myself to your company."
"Aww, I'm hurt." Yusuke mocked, miming a shot through the heart. "Can't you write a story or something to get us out of this? Use your stupid cheater power or something--"
"Usually that only works if you have something to write with, in case you didn't know. Besides, it's not like I can use it for everyday things."
"You call this an everyday thing!?"
The fight went on for five minutes, going silent after a while from either cold or tiredness. It was beginning to get dark, the faded lights from the very top of the window and cracks in the wall were beginning to dim, and it somehow was beginning to grow even colder. Yusuke threatened to blow the damn shack to kingdom come but went back to shivering and swearing against the wall. Both of them were transfixed on that blanket but neither had made a move towards it. It was an unspoken test of endurance, or maybe it was just the anticipation of a fight breaking out for whoever got it first.
Whatever it was, Yusuke got sick of it. "I'm not dying from freezing to death--" He snatched up the blanket and threw it around his shoulders. He may have died twice, but the cold definitely lacked it's luster. Fakir merely watched as he did it, far above arguing for the blanket and showing weakness. In truth, Fakir was built a bit smaller than Yusuke, but if the cold was getting to him faster, the spirit detective certainly couldn't tell.
The silence was so overwhelming that even the sound of their breathing seemed abrasive. After an hour, Fakir tried to start a spark in the fireplace after clearing out the snow, igniting one of the table's wooden leg with friction. It only lasted so long, and only gave so much heat--the melted snow further up the chimney put an end to that plan quickly. They bickered more--Yusuke not quite snug under the blanket but at least livable, and Fakir as frigidly cold as his face expressed.
And they stayed like that for a long time. Yusuke waited for something, anything from Fakir. Teeth chattering, angry remarks, a brawl over the blanket. But no, the writer was bound to become a block of ice soon. And that was just fine with Yusuke. After all, the island could always bring him back if he froze or something. It wasn't Yusuke's problem, it was--
...Oh god damn it.
Before he knew it, he drew a hand out of the blanket and sharply gestured to Fakir. "Get the fuck over here."
Fakir moved his head up stiffly. "What?"
"You heard me! You're about five minutes away from getting your ass frozen in place there."
"I don't want your pity."
Yusuke scowled. "Last time I checked, pity and keeping someone from freezing to death are two very goddamn different things! Now are you going to get up or not?!"
It was a few moments before Fakir stood up, slowly and almost painfully, and moved to his side. He stayed about an inch away from him, accepting part of the blanket but not the body warmth. Even though they weren't touching, Yusuke could feel the cold radiating off of him. Talk about a poker face...
"Yusuke?"
"What?"
"We're never telling anyone about this."
The detective gave a forced laugh. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'm taking it to the grave."
Though coming from Yusuke, that didn't mean much.
Title: Won't Tell a Soul
"...I hate this island so much."
Words uttered many times over the past two or three years for many different reasons, and none quite like this. Count on the island for being creative and cliché, Fakir thought, in the most infuriating way possible. He'd woken up out of his hut and inside what could only be described as a shack, barren aside from a moldy wooden table, a dirty rug, a fireplace topped with a pile of snow, and, looking very out of place, one pale blue fleece blanket, looking new and pristine and folded innocently on top of the table.
Oh, and Yusuke Urameshi, against the other wall, arms folded, with a face that could almost match the pure annoyance that was on Fakir's. "What'd you do this time, write a story about you 'n me? I always thought you were one of those quiet, creepy types!"
Fakir had never been more tempted to pick something up and throw it at him, but in such an enclosed space and during such intense weather, it wasn't a good idea. He would look outside the shack's window if only the snow wasn't piled up that high. He would try leaving except all attempts to open, break, or otherwise destroy that door had failed miserably. And believe me, they tried. And when Yusuke tried, there was usually a crater left behind.
So now the only noise was, if you listened close enough, the aggravated breathing of the two and the raging wind abusing the roof of the shack. It was cold, no doubt about that. In fact, Fakir was pretty sure it was just as cold outside as it was in, if maybe a degree warmer from the pure and utter tension that choked the room. Fakir's only response to Yusuke's insult was an angered huff, and a sullen "As if I'd ever willingly subject myself to your company."
"Aww, I'm hurt." Yusuke mocked, miming a shot through the heart. "Can't you write a story or something to get us out of this? Use your stupid cheater power or something--"
"Usually that only works if you have something to write with, in case you didn't know. Besides, it's not like I can use it for everyday things."
"You call this an everyday thing!?"
The fight went on for five minutes, going silent after a while from either cold or tiredness. It was beginning to get dark, the faded lights from the very top of the window and cracks in the wall were beginning to dim, and it somehow was beginning to grow even colder. Yusuke threatened to blow the damn shack to kingdom come but went back to shivering and swearing against the wall. Both of them were transfixed on that blanket but neither had made a move towards it. It was an unspoken test of endurance, or maybe it was just the anticipation of a fight breaking out for whoever got it first.
Whatever it was, Yusuke got sick of it. "I'm not dying from freezing to death--" He snatched up the blanket and threw it around his shoulders. He may have died twice, but the cold definitely lacked it's luster. Fakir merely watched as he did it, far above arguing for the blanket and showing weakness. In truth, Fakir was built a bit smaller than Yusuke, but if the cold was getting to him faster, the spirit detective certainly couldn't tell.
The silence was so overwhelming that even the sound of their breathing seemed abrasive. After an hour, Fakir tried to start a spark in the fireplace after clearing out the snow, igniting one of the table's wooden leg with friction. It only lasted so long, and only gave so much heat--the melted snow further up the chimney put an end to that plan quickly. They bickered more--Yusuke not quite snug under the blanket but at least livable, and Fakir as frigidly cold as his face expressed.
And they stayed like that for a long time. Yusuke waited for something, anything from Fakir. Teeth chattering, angry remarks, a brawl over the blanket. But no, the writer was bound to become a block of ice soon. And that was just fine with Yusuke. After all, the island could always bring him back if he froze or something. It wasn't Yusuke's problem, it was--
...Oh god damn it.
Before he knew it, he drew a hand out of the blanket and sharply gestured to Fakir. "Get the fuck over here."
Fakir moved his head up stiffly. "What?"
"You heard me! You're about five minutes away from getting your ass frozen in place there."
"I don't want your pity."
Yusuke scowled. "Last time I checked, pity and keeping someone from freezing to death are two very goddamn different things! Now are you going to get up or not?!"
It was a few moments before Fakir stood up, slowly and almost painfully, and moved to his side. He stayed about an inch away from him, accepting part of the blanket but not the body warmth. Even though they weren't touching, Yusuke could feel the cold radiating off of him. Talk about a poker face...
"Yusuke?"
"What?"
"We're never telling anyone about this."
The detective gave a forced laugh. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'm taking it to the grave."
Though coming from Yusuke, that didn't mean much.