WK ficlet, There to see it
Sat down to write Schuldig/Aya, got some Nagi/Farfarello. Woops.
Characters: Nagi/Farfarello
Word Count: 537
Notes, warnings: Nagi and Farfarello. Their combined catalogue of serious issues. Bloodkink/bloodplay by proxy; masturbation; I guess some kinda voyerist shit. Not as porny as that makes it sound. (On that note, I realize "jack off" is too American, but I'll be damned if I call up my Irish friend for advice on that one.)
There to see it
Nagi doesn’t like being touched, but that’s all right; it never did much for Farfarello anyway. There is this though:
On wetworks, Nagi will stick around while Farfarello finishes up. Ostensibly, it is to make sure Farfarello doesn’t get too badly injured, to save them all from the hassle of getting him to a hospital and then cover their tracks. He’s impassive enough, standing behind a shielding to protect him from splashes and stray bullets and the corruption of the world in general. But Farfarello can see it in his eyes, if such a thing is possible: he likes to watch Farfarello at work, likes to see the way he can turn a man inside out like a shirt, the many different ways he can make people hurt. And he likes to watch Farfarello bleed.
He notices it the first time in Seoul, not too long after the Tower. A stray group of Eszet agents trips over them and starts a fight purely by reflex. They look stunned until they die (at which point they mostly look dead and Farfarello will never not be disappointed by that). Nagi’s eyes linger just a little too long over a bullet hole in Farfarello’s arm, some jagged cuts, a burn on his shoulder, and he breathes deep like he’s trying to inhale the blood. He meets Farfarello’s eyes, unapologetic, and something clicks into place in Farfarello’s mind. Nagi doesn’t say anything, but he’s there the next time they go out to kill, and the next.
In the mornings, Farfarello will make them coffee, and Nagi (bleary-eyed, pale) will take the cup out of his hands and drink it down without question. In the evenings, Nagi will make a pot and let Farfarello sit on his bed while he breezes through another secret government database with that look of self-satisfied disdain on his face. It’s possibly the most animated Nagi becomes these days, cursing at poor security and drinking enough coffee to make his hands go jittery, and Farfarello is there to see it.
Sometimes, after a job, he will let Farfarello watch as he jacks off. His eyes fix on the scars stretched across Farfarello’s skin, the fresh nicks and blood. Sometimes, Farfarello takes off his eyepatch for him, shows him the stapled ruin of his left eye. Nagi stares him down and sometimes Farfarello is tempted to move, just to give Nagi the satisfaction of saying, ”No, you can’t touch me,” to feel that push of power keeping him on the floor. Mostly, he’s content to watch Nagi watch him until he sucks in a quiet breath and comes. His eyes clamp shut a moment and open again, pupils blown, and there’s something about his face - softer, breathless, nearly peaceful for one long second.
Once, he was allowed to reach out and dab a drop of sweat from Nagi’s face. It tasted salt, like anyone else’s.
Now, Farfarello watches Nagi return to himself and smiles. Nagi very nearly smiles back, which Farfarello takes to mean he has noticed the long cut that stains his hair pink. He gets the tissues and medikit out of Nagi’s desk drawer and sits down to let Nagi stitch him back together.
Characters: Nagi/Farfarello
Word Count: 537
Notes, warnings: Nagi and Farfarello. Their combined catalogue of serious issues. Bloodkink/bloodplay by proxy; masturbation; I guess some kinda voyerist shit. Not as porny as that makes it sound. (On that note, I realize "jack off" is too American, but I'll be damned if I call up my Irish friend for advice on that one.)
There to see it
Nagi doesn’t like being touched, but that’s all right; it never did much for Farfarello anyway. There is this though:
On wetworks, Nagi will stick around while Farfarello finishes up. Ostensibly, it is to make sure Farfarello doesn’t get too badly injured, to save them all from the hassle of getting him to a hospital and then cover their tracks. He’s impassive enough, standing behind a shielding to protect him from splashes and stray bullets and the corruption of the world in general. But Farfarello can see it in his eyes, if such a thing is possible: he likes to watch Farfarello at work, likes to see the way he can turn a man inside out like a shirt, the many different ways he can make people hurt. And he likes to watch Farfarello bleed.
He notices it the first time in Seoul, not too long after the Tower. A stray group of Eszet agents trips over them and starts a fight purely by reflex. They look stunned until they die (at which point they mostly look dead and Farfarello will never not be disappointed by that). Nagi’s eyes linger just a little too long over a bullet hole in Farfarello’s arm, some jagged cuts, a burn on his shoulder, and he breathes deep like he’s trying to inhale the blood. He meets Farfarello’s eyes, unapologetic, and something clicks into place in Farfarello’s mind. Nagi doesn’t say anything, but he’s there the next time they go out to kill, and the next.
In the mornings, Farfarello will make them coffee, and Nagi (bleary-eyed, pale) will take the cup out of his hands and drink it down without question. In the evenings, Nagi will make a pot and let Farfarello sit on his bed while he breezes through another secret government database with that look of self-satisfied disdain on his face. It’s possibly the most animated Nagi becomes these days, cursing at poor security and drinking enough coffee to make his hands go jittery, and Farfarello is there to see it.
Sometimes, after a job, he will let Farfarello watch as he jacks off. His eyes fix on the scars stretched across Farfarello’s skin, the fresh nicks and blood. Sometimes, Farfarello takes off his eyepatch for him, shows him the stapled ruin of his left eye. Nagi stares him down and sometimes Farfarello is tempted to move, just to give Nagi the satisfaction of saying, ”No, you can’t touch me,” to feel that push of power keeping him on the floor. Mostly, he’s content to watch Nagi watch him until he sucks in a quiet breath and comes. His eyes clamp shut a moment and open again, pupils blown, and there’s something about his face - softer, breathless, nearly peaceful for one long second.
Once, he was allowed to reach out and dab a drop of sweat from Nagi’s face. It tasted salt, like anyone else’s.
Now, Farfarello watches Nagi return to himself and smiles. Nagi very nearly smiles back, which Farfarello takes to mean he has noticed the long cut that stains his hair pink. He gets the tissues and medikit out of Nagi’s desk drawer and sits down to let Nagi stitch him back together.