Thirty Dirty Dates [ Victory ]
Title: Thirty Dirty Dates [ Victory ]
Pairing: Dilan/Braig
Written For: 30_dates prompt 4 - shopping
Type: lolz and hawt
Rating: PG-13 implied >D
A/N: Screw canon. There's a mall at Hollow Bastion, okay? They just never told Sora about it. Or maybe it was destroyed by Heartless. Whatever.
"If I stripped naked and ran around wearing a tea cozy on my head shouting 'Xehanort is my sex god!', would you pay attention to me?"
Dilan looked up from his book, blinked, then removed his reading glasses. "Is Xehanort your sex god?"
Braig frowned. "No..."
"Then no. I wouldn't. Neither would anyone else." His ears reddened, though, as he tried to banish the pleasant image of naked Braig.
"Dilan~!" Braig flopped on the bed and nuzzled his head into the other's shoulder. "I'm bored!"
"I know." Dilan put an arm around him and turned his attention back to the book.
Braig tried, he really did. He was still for a whole thirty seconds before he began fidgeting - wiggling around to get comfortable, playing with Dilan's hair, tugging on his earring...
Finally Dilan sighed and closed the book. "Would you like to go out and do something?"
"What... like a date?"
Dilan smiled. Except less awkward, he thought with some fondness. That had been a long time ago. "Sure."
"Sweet!" Braig jumped up and ran for the door excitedly. Dilan followed at a more careful pace, happy as always to see Braig cheerful.
"Hello, where are you two going?"
Braig stopped, his hand on the front door. He turned around slowly. "Goooing out! To do some... shopping!"
Ansem frowned. "Well, if you're going to the mall, would you mind picking up a few things for me?" he handed them a rather long list of miscellaneous things.
"A few things?!" Braig exclaimed.
Dilan swiftly rescued the list from his lover's grasp. "We'll take care of it," he said smoothly.
"Thank you, Dilan." He turned away and headed back for his room.
Braig moaned. "It's gonna take forever to find all that crap!"
"Actually, we can get most of it in one place... and he seems to have repeated himself quite a lot." Dilan shook his head. Ansem was undoubtedly a genius, but there were times that his apprentices really questioned the old man's sanity.
"Seriously? Then that's all right. And hey! We can go try on clothes!"
This sounded very dangerous. "I'm not buying you anything."
Braig rolled his eyes. "I don't need new clothes... you do!"
"What? What's wrong with the clothes I wear?" He was currenly in a t0shirt and jeans, perfectly normal and acceptable.
"Well..." Braig frowned. "Nothing in particular... well, never mind. Let's go buy this shit, then we can figure out how to spend the rest of the day!"
Dilan shook his head. He definitely had a bad feeling about this.
{ + }
"NO. I will not wear that."
"Just try it on."
"I will not wear that."
"It'll look great on you!"
"BRAIG! For the last time..." Dilan shoved the skanky-looking shirt back into Braig's arms. "I. Will. Not. Wear. That!"
Braig pouted. "Fine then. I'll wear it. Wait here while I go try these on, okay?"
Dilan sighed. "Fine..." he took a seat in one of the conveniently placed chairs in the men's dressing room. Luckily, it was a weekday, so there was barely anyone in the store, let alone in the dressing room.
Wait. He wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.
He heard a lot of strange clacking sounds, several muffled curses, and a lot of general fabricy swishy noises. "Braig?" he asked tentatively.
"Whuuuut?"
He cleared his throat surreptitiously. "Come out and show me what you're trying on, at least!"
"Oh. Okay." Another plasticy clatter. "Mmm, one second..."
Dilan shifted nervously in his chair. This was probably a horrible idea.
Two seconds later, he knew it was definitely a horrible idea, and he was cursing himself into oblivion because he let himself be dragged into this.
Braig was hot. There was really no other word for it.
"You're... wearing..." Dilan was fighting a fierce internal battle. And losing.
"That shirt that you said you wouldn't wear. Well, I would. And I am." Braig smirked. He loooooved that look on Dilan's face - the 'I-want-to-jump-your-bones-but-I-can't-right-now' look. It was almost his favorite.
"And the jeans."
"OH YES. I forgot." He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops and leaned slightly on one hip. "These jeans."
Dilan stared. Just stared. Aside from the dark, tight-fitting jeans that seemed custom-made to bring out Braig's hips... his shirt was also tight, and black, and full of artsy rips and cutouts that had seemed tacky on the hanger - but now looked absolutely stunning.
Oh, and his hair was down. Which was brain-breaking in and of itself.
"So..." Braig pouted. "...Will you buy the shirt for me?"
"What?"
"The shirt, gutterbrain. Buy the shirt for me!"
Dilan glared at him. "I said I wouldn't buy you anything!"
"Please??"
"No!"
"Dilan..." Braig's pout slowly morphed into a smirk. "C'mere."
"What?"
He grabbed the front of Dilan's shirt, forcefully pulled him to his feet, and attacked him with a passionate kiss. Dilan was stunned into silence, and did not protest one bit when Braig dragged them back into the dressing room stall and shut the door.
His back hit the wall, knocking a few hangers to the ground. Dilan's hand slammed his hips back, and he was kissing hard enough to bruise, pressing Braig back into the wall.
Braig smiled Dilan pulled away, loving the feral, wild look in his eyes as he looked at Braig, really looked at him, taking it all in - the outfit, the hair, the smirk. That was his favorite Dilan expression.
"Sooo..." Braig reached back and twined his hands in Dilan's thick black hair. "Will you buy the shirt for me?"
Dilan groaned. "What, you want me to buy you a shirt so I can rip it off?"
"Exactly!" Braig leaned in and kissed his way up Dilan's neck. "I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on this."
"That's so... wasteful..."
"Oh, I'll wear it again."
"It's going to be in shreds when I'm done with you."
"It practically is already. You're good with a needle, you can make it work."
Dilan sighed heavily. "....Fine. I'll get you the damn shirt."
"Great!" Braig slid out from Dilan's grasp and stripped it off in one smooth motion. "So, I'll just..."
He felt teeth on the back of his neck.
Smirk. "Later, dear. I may be voyeuristic at times, but this is not one of those times." He leaned back against Dilan and purred. "I want you all to myself..."
They paid for the shirt and made it home in record time. Ansem wondered why they seemed so out of breath, rushing around lke that... Ah well. Young people. Probably raced up the hill on the way home.
Well, it wasn't exactly a race. No one would win.
That wasn't exactly true either.
Let's just say... they both would.
Pairing: Dilan/Braig
Written For: 30_dates prompt 4 - shopping
Type: lolz and hawt
Rating: PG-13 implied >D
A/N: Screw canon. There's a mall at Hollow Bastion, okay? They just never told Sora about it. Or maybe it was destroyed by Heartless. Whatever.
"If I stripped naked and ran around wearing a tea cozy on my head shouting 'Xehanort is my sex god!', would you pay attention to me?"
Dilan looked up from his book, blinked, then removed his reading glasses. "Is Xehanort your sex god?"
Braig frowned. "No..."
"Then no. I wouldn't. Neither would anyone else." His ears reddened, though, as he tried to banish the pleasant image of naked Braig.
"Dilan~!" Braig flopped on the bed and nuzzled his head into the other's shoulder. "I'm bored!"
"I know." Dilan put an arm around him and turned his attention back to the book.
Braig tried, he really did. He was still for a whole thirty seconds before he began fidgeting - wiggling around to get comfortable, playing with Dilan's hair, tugging on his earring...
Finally Dilan sighed and closed the book. "Would you like to go out and do something?"
"What... like a date?"
Dilan smiled. Except less awkward, he thought with some fondness. That had been a long time ago. "Sure."
"Sweet!" Braig jumped up and ran for the door excitedly. Dilan followed at a more careful pace, happy as always to see Braig cheerful.
"Hello, where are you two going?"
Braig stopped, his hand on the front door. He turned around slowly. "Goooing out! To do some... shopping!"
Ansem frowned. "Well, if you're going to the mall, would you mind picking up a few things for me?" he handed them a rather long list of miscellaneous things.
"A few things?!" Braig exclaimed.
Dilan swiftly rescued the list from his lover's grasp. "We'll take care of it," he said smoothly.
"Thank you, Dilan." He turned away and headed back for his room.
Braig moaned. "It's gonna take forever to find all that crap!"
"Actually, we can get most of it in one place... and he seems to have repeated himself quite a lot." Dilan shook his head. Ansem was undoubtedly a genius, but there were times that his apprentices really questioned the old man's sanity.
"Seriously? Then that's all right. And hey! We can go try on clothes!"
This sounded very dangerous. "I'm not buying you anything."
Braig rolled his eyes. "I don't need new clothes... you do!"
"What? What's wrong with the clothes I wear?" He was currenly in a t0shirt and jeans, perfectly normal and acceptable.
"Well..." Braig frowned. "Nothing in particular... well, never mind. Let's go buy this shit, then we can figure out how to spend the rest of the day!"
Dilan shook his head. He definitely had a bad feeling about this.
{ + }
"NO. I will not wear that."
"Just try it on."
"I will not wear that."
"It'll look great on you!"
"BRAIG! For the last time..." Dilan shoved the skanky-looking shirt back into Braig's arms. "I. Will. Not. Wear. That!"
Braig pouted. "Fine then. I'll wear it. Wait here while I go try these on, okay?"
Dilan sighed. "Fine..." he took a seat in one of the conveniently placed chairs in the men's dressing room. Luckily, it was a weekday, so there was barely anyone in the store, let alone in the dressing room.
Wait. He wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.
He heard a lot of strange clacking sounds, several muffled curses, and a lot of general fabricy swishy noises. "Braig?" he asked tentatively.
"Whuuuut?"
He cleared his throat surreptitiously. "Come out and show me what you're trying on, at least!"
"Oh. Okay." Another plasticy clatter. "Mmm, one second..."
Dilan shifted nervously in his chair. This was probably a horrible idea.
Two seconds later, he knew it was definitely a horrible idea, and he was cursing himself into oblivion because he let himself be dragged into this.
Braig was hot. There was really no other word for it.
"You're... wearing..." Dilan was fighting a fierce internal battle. And losing.
"That shirt that you said you wouldn't wear. Well, I would. And I am." Braig smirked. He loooooved that look on Dilan's face - the 'I-want-to-jump-your-bones-but-I-can't-right-now' look. It was almost his favorite.
"And the jeans."
"OH YES. I forgot." He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops and leaned slightly on one hip. "These jeans."
Dilan stared. Just stared. Aside from the dark, tight-fitting jeans that seemed custom-made to bring out Braig's hips... his shirt was also tight, and black, and full of artsy rips and cutouts that had seemed tacky on the hanger - but now looked absolutely stunning.
Oh, and his hair was down. Which was brain-breaking in and of itself.
"So..." Braig pouted. "...Will you buy the shirt for me?"
"What?"
"The shirt, gutterbrain. Buy the shirt for me!"
Dilan glared at him. "I said I wouldn't buy you anything!"
"Please??"
"No!"
"Dilan..." Braig's pout slowly morphed into a smirk. "C'mere."
"What?"
He grabbed the front of Dilan's shirt, forcefully pulled him to his feet, and attacked him with a passionate kiss. Dilan was stunned into silence, and did not protest one bit when Braig dragged them back into the dressing room stall and shut the door.
His back hit the wall, knocking a few hangers to the ground. Dilan's hand slammed his hips back, and he was kissing hard enough to bruise, pressing Braig back into the wall.
Braig smiled Dilan pulled away, loving the feral, wild look in his eyes as he looked at Braig, really looked at him, taking it all in - the outfit, the hair, the smirk. That was his favorite Dilan expression.
"Sooo..." Braig reached back and twined his hands in Dilan's thick black hair. "Will you buy the shirt for me?"
Dilan groaned. "What, you want me to buy you a shirt so I can rip it off?"
"Exactly!" Braig leaned in and kissed his way up Dilan's neck. "I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on this."
"That's so... wasteful..."
"Oh, I'll wear it again."
"It's going to be in shreds when I'm done with you."
"It practically is already. You're good with a needle, you can make it work."
Dilan sighed heavily. "....Fine. I'll get you the damn shirt."
"Great!" Braig slid out from Dilan's grasp and stripped it off in one smooth motion. "So, I'll just..."
He felt teeth on the back of his neck.
Smirk. "Later, dear. I may be voyeuristic at times, but this is not one of those times." He leaned back against Dilan and purred. "I want you all to myself..."
They paid for the shirt and made it home in record time. Ansem wondered why they seemed so out of breath, rushing around lke that... Ah well. Young people. Probably raced up the hill on the way home.
Well, it wasn't exactly a race. No one would win.
That wasn't exactly true either.
Let's just say... they both would.