Thirty Dirty Dates [ Not a Date, Right? ]
Title: Thirty Dirty Dates [ Not a Date, Right? ]
Pairing: Xaldin/Xigbar (or, in this case, Dilan/Braig)
Written For:
30_dates
(haven't been approved but WTH ever. No one's gonna take Xal/Xig while I'm not looking. I plosted a claim of it anyway. WHUT EVER.)
Theme: 1 - First Date
Type: Fluff? XD
Rating: PG-13 language
Ansem was off with a friend. Aeleus was visiting his family. Ienzo wanted to stay at the seashore, and Xehanort, for some unfathomable reason, had gone with him.
Dilan wasn't looking forward to spending the weekend trying to keep Braig and Even from killing each other. Maybe that was the reason that Even poked his head into Dilan's room with the proclamation that he was Going.
"Where are you going?" Dilan didn't really care, he was just curious.
"...Out." Even scowled and jerked his head towards the room next door, occupied by a certain smartass aggravation.
"Ah." Dilan nodded. The enmity between the two apprentices was notoriously fierce. "I presume you'll be gone all weekend, then?"
Even grinned. Dilan may have been Braig's closest friend, but he got along with him very well, and was often grateful of the older apprentice's tolerance and understanding. "I'll find somewhere to be." He waved a goodbye, then left to pack a bag.
It wasn't until about ten minutes later that Dilan came to a terrifying realization.
With Even gone, that left him and Braig in the Radiant Garden. All weekend.
Alone.
He threw down his pencil and clutched his head in his hands. This was a horrible idea. An absolutely terrible idea. Maybe he should just pack up and leave for the weekend, just like Even.
But he wouldn't. As scared as he was, the tiny, tiny part of him that he allowed to hope... hoped.
Because, you see, several nights ago, Dilan had come to a similarly terrifying realization. One that he had immediately tried to forget - and, naturally, couldn't keep out of his mind.
He liked Braig.
He liked Braig.
It didn't make any logical sense! They were totally unsuited for each other. Dilan was quiet, stubborn, and responsible. Braig was loud, energetic, laid back, and a total slacker. The only thing they had in common was their intelligence, but it wasn't like they ever actually had intelligent conversations.
I must be crazy, Dilan thought. That's the only logical conclusion. I am totally, completely, 100% batshit insane. I should be locked up, I'm obviously dangerous. 'Oh no! He's got a crush on Braig, somebody get the straightjacket!' Haha... straightjacket.
Dilan snorted. Okay, that was a horrible pun. And this was getting a little ridiculous.
"Hey Dilan!"
Oh good lord. Fantastic timing, he thought with no small amount of sarcasm. He glared over his shoulder at his friend, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinning widely.
"What. Do you want," Dilan growled.
"What's so funny, huh?" Braig sauntered in and took a seat for himself on his friend's bed.
"Nothing." Dilan folded his reading glasses and tucked them away, simply waiting for the deluge of word vomit that would surely soon issue forth from the oh-so-eloquent tongue of Apprentice Braig.
"...So that means we have the whole place to ourselves, for a whole weekend!" He looked way too happy about this prospect. "We can break into Even's room and mix up his chemicals! And try on all of Xehanort's clothes!"
Deadpan look. "Why would you want to try on Xehanort's clothes?"
"Dude, have you seen some of the things he wears? He's got a shirt that's purple and sparkly! And leather pants!"
Dilan thought about this. "I'm not sure if it's creepier to think that Xehanort bought those himself, or that Ansem did it for him."
"Oh ew! That's gross, Dilan!" Braig made a face. "Anyway, I at least want to try to get into the basement and see what he's up to down there..."
"Somehow, that seems like a bad idea." Dilan leaned back in his chair and frowned at his friend. "Have you thought about other, more important things? Food, for example?"
Braig waved a hand expansively. "You can cook, right? Problem solved!"
"I can, but we don't have any food."
"Oh." Braig ran a hand through his long brown hair, then sighed. "Let's just go out, then, I'm too lazy to shop."
"What, like out... for dinner?" Us? The two of us? Okay, Dilan was definitely making this into way more than it really was. They were totally just friends.
Braig caught his eye and grinned. "Yeah. Kind of like a date, except less awkward."
Dilan could almost hear the bottom dropping out of his stomach. LESS AWKWARD?! Not when you say it like that, you asshole! "Uh... sure." He tried, unsuccessfully, to stop blushing. Pale skin colored wayyy too easily.
Braig didn't notice, or pretended not to. "All right, awesome! I'm gonna go raid numero uno's closet, kay?" He often referred to Xehanort as 'number one', because he was the first of Ansem's apprentices.
Dilan sighed and nodded. Braig was undoubtedly the most aggravating person in the entire world... but it was also strangely endearing. Stupid Braig.
And now, the dilemma. WHAT TO WEAR.
He stood in front of his closet for a long time. Should he wear something nice? Try to make himself look better? Or just casual? Did he have anything nice? Was Braig going to be wearing something nice? Did this shirt fit anymore? Was Braig going to be wearing something ridiculously good looking? And where were they going, anyway?
He finally decided on a dark blue shirt that brought out his violet eyes, and a pair of dark jeans. That way, he looked both nice and casual, better than usual, and didn't feel self-conscious. Much.
It was a long twenty minutes after that when the door opened, and he sat up a little straighter in his chair.
He should probably have prepared himself or something before turning around. 20/20 hindsight, right?
Braig was wearing leather pants. LEATHER PANTS. Very tight leather pants.
Oh, and a shirt. And it was purple, though not sparkly.
LEATHER PANTS.
Braig grinned, and Dilan scowled back. He couldn't have known the effect those stupid pants had on his friend, he was probably just wearing them because Xehanort would be pissed when he found out. And purple was, of course, Braig's favorite color.
"What are you wearing?"
"What?" Braig was talking? What?
"Your clothes, dummy. You'll have to wear something else. Hmm..." Braig sauntered over and grabbed the collar of Dilan's shirt, then began unbuttoning.
"HEY WAIT WHAT get those hands off me!" Dilan shoved him away easily.
"What~," Braig drawled, smirking. "Come on, let me take your shirt off!"
"No." Dilan held those hands firmly away from his buttons.
"But you need to wear a different one!"
"This shirt is fine."
"No it's not, you look like a fruit!"
"You're the one wearing purple."
"Fruit."
"Fag."
"Pansy."
DIlan sighed. The argument would go on forever unless he was mature enough to stop it. "Okay, fine. I'll wear something else. What did you have in mind?" He let Braig go, but immediately started unbuttoning the shirt himself. Damnit, he wasn't going to let Braig undress him like a freaking doll...
Meanwhile, Braig had his head sticking into the closet, presumably searching for a shirt... and giving Dilan a lovely view of his leather-clad rear end. Dilan sighed. Sometimes, it felt like this was all deliberately planned to torture him. He folded the shirt and placed it on his desk. "Well? Have you made a decision yet, o master of the closet?"
"Nope... geez Dilan, your clothes are so boring." He straightened up and tossed his ponytail back over his shoulder. "Well, it's a good thing I always come prepared!"
Dilan tried not to let his already gutter-entrenched brain make anything of that statement - simply waited as Braig ran out of the room. He was back in less than a minute, holding something in his hands.
"Put this on!" Dilan caught the shirt as it flew at his face. The material slid uncomfortably over his hands, and there definitely didn't seem to be enough of it.
"Braig. What the hell is this."
"It's a shirt, Dilan. Put it on!" He grinned. "Or you could just go shirtless. Whatever floats your boat."
Dilan scowled at him. "I'm not going shirtless!"
"Fine!" There was only the faintest hint of disappointment in Braig's voice that Dilan chose to ignore. He was obviously hearing things. "Then put that shirt on!"
Dilan sighed and obliged. The shirt may have been small, but it was also very stretchy. And very tight. "Braig..." He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "I'm not wearing this."
"Hells yes you are!" Braig's grin could not have been wider.
"No, Braig! I'm not! It's so..."
Braig crossed his arms and smirked. "Sexy? Yes."
Dilan turned a bright, eye-smarting shade of red.
"Come on, Dilan! It's this or nothing."
He sighed. He had no doubt that if he refused the shirt, Braig would somehow manage to take him out half naked, which was not happening.
So fine. He'd wear the tight black t-shirt, that showed off way too much of his muscles. It went well with his jeans, anyway.
They set off into the city, Braig refusing to tell Dilan where they were headed, except to say, 'You'll like it'. He finally stopped in front of a rather cozy-looking pub, with a faded sign over the door proclaiming its name to be "The Belligerent Octopus".
Dilan eyed the sign warily. "I'll like it, huh?"
"Oh, totally!" Braig grinned, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "That octopus always reminds me of you."
"What?"
"You know, his cute little angry face? Come on, I want you to meet everyone!" He grabbed Dilan's wrist and dragged him inside.
The pub was surprisingly well-lit, and even had a huge hearth fire in one wall. Dilan could easily understand why Braig liked it - it was full of happy people, good music, and if Dilan knew he friend well - and he did - the food would be even better.
"Come on, Dilan!" Braig was dragging Dilan towards the bartender, a handsome man with a warm smile and long black hair. "Hey Laguna!"
Laguna put down the glass he was wiping and reached out to grab Braig in a one-armed hug. "Hey there, stranger! Where have you been?"
"You know... working," he replied evasively. "How are Squall and Ellone?"
"Oh, you know." He waved a hand vaguely. "Rebellious teenagers will be rebellious." Then he caught sight of Dilan, who was trying unsuccessfully to be unobtrusive. "Oh... you must be Dilan. He's right, you are handsome - "
"I was never a rebellious teenager," Braig said suddenly, cutting him off.
Dilan snorted.
"What, I wasn't!" Braig grinned back. "I was a perfectly normal teenager. I'm just a rebellious adult!"
Dilan rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, you're mature."
"Hey, I'm not the one who sleeps with - "
"Okay Braig. That's enough. Let's eat. That's what we're here for, right?" It wasn't a date. Dilan grabbed Braig's arm and pulled him towards an empty table.
"No, not that one!" Braig slid his arm out of Dilan's grasp, but then reached back and laced their fingers together. "We have to go over there!"
Dilan blushed - he was suddenly glad of the warm firelight and heady atmosphere. "Um... why do we need to be here, precisely?"
"Uhh... it's where I always sit!"
It's also dark, secluded, out of view of most of the pub, and lit by candlelight. Dilan rolled his eyes. Braig was lying, of course. He just couldn't figure out why...
"Come on, just shut up and relax. The food here is really good!"
Dilan sighed and took the seat closer to the back, so he could keep an eye on the crowd. Being around Braig always made him feel nervous and possessive. "Braig... you were about to tell the bartender that I sleep with a stuffed animal, and you expect me to relax?"
Braig looked hurt. "No I wasn't!"
"What were you going to say, then, that I sleep with you?" That had been an interesting night.
Of course not, I already told them that. "Nooo. That's beside the point... here, order this. You'll like it."
"And what if I don't?"
Braig rolled his eyes. "Then you can spear me in the face. Just get it!"
Actually, the dish did sound good - steak and crabcake. They chatted, argued, and occasionally kicked each other under the table.
"Actually, the reason I got this table..."
Dilan smirked. "Yeah, I was wondering about that."
"Isn't it obvious?" Braig shrugged, looking away. "I knew you'd rather be away from the crowd. Duh."
That earned him another kick. "I don't really care, you know. You obviously want to be there, not here."
"Not true!" Braig scowled. "I come here all the time."
"You see me all the time, too," Dilan pointed out.
Braig kicked him. "Not like this!"
"What, wearing a tight shirt in a dark corner of a pub?"
"Well... yes!" Braig kicked him again, harder. "It's a good look for you. You should do it more often."
Snort. "No."
"Please?"
"Why do you want to see me in the dark corner of a pub? What makes it any different from home?"
Well... it didn't. "Anyway. Here, I'll pay for..." he reached a hand out to pick up the receipt.
SLAP. Dilan's hand came down on top of it, slamming down onto the table. "No."
"What?! Ow! Get off me!"
"No. You're not paying. I am."
"What? As if!" Braig tried to free his hand, but it was totally trapped under Dilan's larger one. "I brought you here, I'll damn well pay for you!"
"No. You've done enough already tonight." Made me blush at least a thousand times. That should account for something.
"Come on, Dilan!"
"No!"
"But that makes me the bitch!"
"...what?"
"If you're paying for me, that makes me the bitch!"
Dilan leaned forward, pulling their hands closer to him, smirking. "And what makes you think you're not?"
Braig had no good answer for that. In fact, there was the distinct possibility that he didn't hear a damn word that Dilan had just said, because he was too busy drooling.
Dilan lifted his hand off, and deftly extracted the little slip of a receipt. "I'm paying."
"Okay..." Braig frowned. "But I pay for dessert?"
"What? No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Come on, Dilan! At least let me preserve some shred of my masculinity!"
"You have masculinity? I never noticed."
"Dilaaan!"
They left the pub, and Dilan followed Braig into a much more familiar part of town. He knew where they were headed - Ansem made him run out there often enough. The bell on the ice cream shop jangled when they walked in and joined the long line of people waiting to order.
Dilan sighed. He hated waiting, especially when it came to ice cream.
"Oh... hey guys."
Dilan looked up. It was Aeleus, holding the hand of a little girl with the same coppery hair and green eyes. "Hey," he said, surprised. Well, he shouldn't've been too surprised - Aeleus's family lived right in the city, probably closer to the ice cream store than the Radiant Garden.
"Have a nice night?" It was most certainly meant as entirely polite, but Dilan couldn't help the blush that spread up his neck.
"Uh... yes."
"Yeah, I touched base with Laguna - a bit," Braig added, hanging on Dilan's shoulder. He wished he wouldn't do that - it was more than a little distracting. "Squall's being a teenager."
"Naturally." He pushed his - sister? - up to the counter. "Leia, tell him what you want."
Braig resisted the urge to play with Dilan's thick black hair. "Having fun with the family?"
"Mmm." He held up a hand; so-so. "It's a lot of work. But a lot of fun." Aeleus had two brothers and four sisters - all younger than he was. He handed over the munny for Leia's ice cream, then turned back to wave good-bye. "Oh - Dilan - you look really nice." His expression was completely neutral. "You should dress like that more often. I guess I'll see you guys on Monday, bright and early." He waved, then ushered his sister out the door.
Dilan blinked in the direction of where Aeleus had been, digesting the compliment.
"See? I told you. Two cones; one chocolate, one strawberrry." He paid for them quickly while Dilan was still trying to process the fact that Aeleus, Aeleus, had just told him he looked good. So much for valuing his opinion, he thought. "Here." Dilan looked up; he took the cone that Braig was offering, only vaguely noticing that it was his favorite flavor.
They moved outside and began strolling along the cobbled streets, licking at their respecitive cones. Braig was making far more noise than was necessary, which was really rather immature, and goddamnit that licking noise was fucking distracting. "BRAIG. Stop that."
"Stop what?" He didn't stop, and Dilan was now looking at the source of the suggestive licking noises.
"THAT. Stop. It. Lick. STOP."
"Well, what do you want me to do first?" Liiick.
Dilan blushed darkly and turned back to his own ice cream. "N-never mind..."
"Hey, can I try yours?"
"What?"
Suddenly Braig was leaning over, licking his ice cream cone, and OHMYGOD that was his finger. HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF CRAP.
"Your face is gonna freeze like that one day," Braig informed him, "And it's going to be reeeaaally funny."
Glare. "Well, it's too bad about yours." He shrugged. "But hey, at least it can't get any uglier. Although..." he stopped, and stared at it.
"What?" Braig gave him a strange look. "Is there something on my face?"
"Yes." Dilan frowned. "Ice cream. It doesn't make it any better, though." Well, maybe a little. A lot. "Here, let me get it off..."
And to Braig's intense astonishment, he leaned in, took hold of Braig's chin with his hand, and gently licked off the offending smear of chocolate.
Ha. Dilan pulled back, a smug little grin on his face. Revenge is sweet. Literally.
"Hey... HEY! Get back here, what the hell was that about!"
They chased each other up the street, across the alleyways, and collapsed against the door to the Radiant Garden, out of breath. The ice cream cones had long been finished, discarded, and forgotten.
Dilan turned to say something snarky to Braig, and suddenly realized that their faces were centimeters apart. His breath hitched in his throat and he flushed immediately, forgetting everything he'd been about to say.
Braig was just as still, eyes catching in pools of violet like liquid gold. He opened his mouth to say something - then he, too, forgot whatever had been so important.
"Um..." Dilan tried very hard not to blink. One second of looking away would surely be a tragedy. "This... wasn't a date, right?"
Braig wanted to kill himself. Literally, wanted to stab himself, because Dilan was SUCH A BRICK. "Only... if you want it to be," he replied quietly, then turned to walk away. If Dilan still had no clue what Braig thought about him after this, well, he must be dumber than a mashmallow. Dumber than a whole goddamn bag of stupid fluffy white marshmallows!!
"...Wait." Dilan reached out and grabbed a hold of Braig's arm. He pulled him back, slowly, and turned him around.
Their lips met before he even had any idea was was happening, and their arms circled each other as if they belonged there. The kiss seemed to last forever - but it was over too soon, way too soon. Braig reached out for another kiss, softer, and wondered if he was dreaming.
He pulled away, looked up at Dilan - and bolted.
Dilan was startled by the sudden disappearance. ...Braig? He looked around. Crap.
He went back to his room in a daze, fumbling for the door handle. I probably just dreamt it. I'm delusional. They should lock me up, I already knew I was insane. He fell down onto his bed, and didn't even get undressed. That was a crazy, crazy thing to hallucinate. But damn. My subconscious sure knows how to kiss.
He couldn't remember taking off his shoes, but they weren't on in the morning, so he probably did. It was still early in the evening but he sleapt, dreamlessly, all night until dawn.
{ + }
Author's Notes:
Okay, some really interesting typos in this one. Well, while I was writing out the beginning part, I wrote this: "Braig sauntered in and took a seat for himself on his friend's lap." >_>. Apparently, my brain thought they should be closer together.
But yeah. The next couple of chapters (?) (it's a collection of one-shots...) are going to be shorter than this. YEY.
Pairing: Xaldin/Xigbar (or, in this case, Dilan/Braig)
Written For:
30_dates
(haven't been approved but WTH ever. No one's gonna take Xal/Xig while I'm not looking. I plosted a claim of it anyway. WHUT EVER.)
Theme: 1 - First Date
Type: Fluff? XD
Rating: PG-13 language
Ansem was off with a friend. Aeleus was visiting his family. Ienzo wanted to stay at the seashore, and Xehanort, for some unfathomable reason, had gone with him.
Dilan wasn't looking forward to spending the weekend trying to keep Braig and Even from killing each other. Maybe that was the reason that Even poked his head into Dilan's room with the proclamation that he was Going.
"Where are you going?" Dilan didn't really care, he was just curious.
"...Out." Even scowled and jerked his head towards the room next door, occupied by a certain smartass aggravation.
"Ah." Dilan nodded. The enmity between the two apprentices was notoriously fierce. "I presume you'll be gone all weekend, then?"
Even grinned. Dilan may have been Braig's closest friend, but he got along with him very well, and was often grateful of the older apprentice's tolerance and understanding. "I'll find somewhere to be." He waved a goodbye, then left to pack a bag.
It wasn't until about ten minutes later that Dilan came to a terrifying realization.
With Even gone, that left him and Braig in the Radiant Garden. All weekend.
Alone.
He threw down his pencil and clutched his head in his hands. This was a horrible idea. An absolutely terrible idea. Maybe he should just pack up and leave for the weekend, just like Even.
But he wouldn't. As scared as he was, the tiny, tiny part of him that he allowed to hope... hoped.
Because, you see, several nights ago, Dilan had come to a similarly terrifying realization. One that he had immediately tried to forget - and, naturally, couldn't keep out of his mind.
He liked Braig.
He liked Braig.
It didn't make any logical sense! They were totally unsuited for each other. Dilan was quiet, stubborn, and responsible. Braig was loud, energetic, laid back, and a total slacker. The only thing they had in common was their intelligence, but it wasn't like they ever actually had intelligent conversations.
I must be crazy, Dilan thought. That's the only logical conclusion. I am totally, completely, 100% batshit insane. I should be locked up, I'm obviously dangerous. 'Oh no! He's got a crush on Braig, somebody get the straightjacket!' Haha... straightjacket.
Dilan snorted. Okay, that was a horrible pun. And this was getting a little ridiculous.
"Hey Dilan!"
Oh good lord. Fantastic timing, he thought with no small amount of sarcasm. He glared over his shoulder at his friend, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinning widely.
"What. Do you want," Dilan growled.
"What's so funny, huh?" Braig sauntered in and took a seat for himself on his friend's bed.
"Nothing." Dilan folded his reading glasses and tucked them away, simply waiting for the deluge of word vomit that would surely soon issue forth from the oh-so-eloquent tongue of Apprentice Braig.
"...So that means we have the whole place to ourselves, for a whole weekend!" He looked way too happy about this prospect. "We can break into Even's room and mix up his chemicals! And try on all of Xehanort's clothes!"
Deadpan look. "Why would you want to try on Xehanort's clothes?"
"Dude, have you seen some of the things he wears? He's got a shirt that's purple and sparkly! And leather pants!"
Dilan thought about this. "I'm not sure if it's creepier to think that Xehanort bought those himself, or that Ansem did it for him."
"Oh ew! That's gross, Dilan!" Braig made a face. "Anyway, I at least want to try to get into the basement and see what he's up to down there..."
"Somehow, that seems like a bad idea." Dilan leaned back in his chair and frowned at his friend. "Have you thought about other, more important things? Food, for example?"
Braig waved a hand expansively. "You can cook, right? Problem solved!"
"I can, but we don't have any food."
"Oh." Braig ran a hand through his long brown hair, then sighed. "Let's just go out, then, I'm too lazy to shop."
"What, like out... for dinner?" Us? The two of us? Okay, Dilan was definitely making this into way more than it really was. They were totally just friends.
Braig caught his eye and grinned. "Yeah. Kind of like a date, except less awkward."
Dilan could almost hear the bottom dropping out of his stomach. LESS AWKWARD?! Not when you say it like that, you asshole! "Uh... sure." He tried, unsuccessfully, to stop blushing. Pale skin colored wayyy too easily.
Braig didn't notice, or pretended not to. "All right, awesome! I'm gonna go raid numero uno's closet, kay?" He often referred to Xehanort as 'number one', because he was the first of Ansem's apprentices.
Dilan sighed and nodded. Braig was undoubtedly the most aggravating person in the entire world... but it was also strangely endearing. Stupid Braig.
And now, the dilemma. WHAT TO WEAR.
He stood in front of his closet for a long time. Should he wear something nice? Try to make himself look better? Or just casual? Did he have anything nice? Was Braig going to be wearing something nice? Did this shirt fit anymore? Was Braig going to be wearing something ridiculously good looking? And where were they going, anyway?
He finally decided on a dark blue shirt that brought out his violet eyes, and a pair of dark jeans. That way, he looked both nice and casual, better than usual, and didn't feel self-conscious. Much.
It was a long twenty minutes after that when the door opened, and he sat up a little straighter in his chair.
He should probably have prepared himself or something before turning around. 20/20 hindsight, right?
Braig was wearing leather pants. LEATHER PANTS. Very tight leather pants.
Oh, and a shirt. And it was purple, though not sparkly.
LEATHER PANTS.
Braig grinned, and Dilan scowled back. He couldn't have known the effect those stupid pants had on his friend, he was probably just wearing them because Xehanort would be pissed when he found out. And purple was, of course, Braig's favorite color.
"What are you wearing?"
"What?" Braig was talking? What?
"Your clothes, dummy. You'll have to wear something else. Hmm..." Braig sauntered over and grabbed the collar of Dilan's shirt, then began unbuttoning.
"HEY WAIT WHAT get those hands off me!" Dilan shoved him away easily.
"What~," Braig drawled, smirking. "Come on, let me take your shirt off!"
"No." Dilan held those hands firmly away from his buttons.
"But you need to wear a different one!"
"This shirt is fine."
"No it's not, you look like a fruit!"
"You're the one wearing purple."
"Fruit."
"Fag."
"Pansy."
DIlan sighed. The argument would go on forever unless he was mature enough to stop it. "Okay, fine. I'll wear something else. What did you have in mind?" He let Braig go, but immediately started unbuttoning the shirt himself. Damnit, he wasn't going to let Braig undress him like a freaking doll...
Meanwhile, Braig had his head sticking into the closet, presumably searching for a shirt... and giving Dilan a lovely view of his leather-clad rear end. Dilan sighed. Sometimes, it felt like this was all deliberately planned to torture him. He folded the shirt and placed it on his desk. "Well? Have you made a decision yet, o master of the closet?"
"Nope... geez Dilan, your clothes are so boring." He straightened up and tossed his ponytail back over his shoulder. "Well, it's a good thing I always come prepared!"
Dilan tried not to let his already gutter-entrenched brain make anything of that statement - simply waited as Braig ran out of the room. He was back in less than a minute, holding something in his hands.
"Put this on!" Dilan caught the shirt as it flew at his face. The material slid uncomfortably over his hands, and there definitely didn't seem to be enough of it.
"Braig. What the hell is this."
"It's a shirt, Dilan. Put it on!" He grinned. "Or you could just go shirtless. Whatever floats your boat."
Dilan scowled at him. "I'm not going shirtless!"
"Fine!" There was only the faintest hint of disappointment in Braig's voice that Dilan chose to ignore. He was obviously hearing things. "Then put that shirt on!"
Dilan sighed and obliged. The shirt may have been small, but it was also very stretchy. And very tight. "Braig..." He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "I'm not wearing this."
"Hells yes you are!" Braig's grin could not have been wider.
"No, Braig! I'm not! It's so..."
Braig crossed his arms and smirked. "Sexy? Yes."
Dilan turned a bright, eye-smarting shade of red.
"Come on, Dilan! It's this or nothing."
He sighed. He had no doubt that if he refused the shirt, Braig would somehow manage to take him out half naked, which was not happening.
So fine. He'd wear the tight black t-shirt, that showed off way too much of his muscles. It went well with his jeans, anyway.
They set off into the city, Braig refusing to tell Dilan where they were headed, except to say, 'You'll like it'. He finally stopped in front of a rather cozy-looking pub, with a faded sign over the door proclaiming its name to be "The Belligerent Octopus".
Dilan eyed the sign warily. "I'll like it, huh?"
"Oh, totally!" Braig grinned, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "That octopus always reminds me of you."
"What?"
"You know, his cute little angry face? Come on, I want you to meet everyone!" He grabbed Dilan's wrist and dragged him inside.
The pub was surprisingly well-lit, and even had a huge hearth fire in one wall. Dilan could easily understand why Braig liked it - it was full of happy people, good music, and if Dilan knew he friend well - and he did - the food would be even better.
"Come on, Dilan!" Braig was dragging Dilan towards the bartender, a handsome man with a warm smile and long black hair. "Hey Laguna!"
Laguna put down the glass he was wiping and reached out to grab Braig in a one-armed hug. "Hey there, stranger! Where have you been?"
"You know... working," he replied evasively. "How are Squall and Ellone?"
"Oh, you know." He waved a hand vaguely. "Rebellious teenagers will be rebellious." Then he caught sight of Dilan, who was trying unsuccessfully to be unobtrusive. "Oh... you must be Dilan. He's right, you are handsome - "
"I was never a rebellious teenager," Braig said suddenly, cutting him off.
Dilan snorted.
"What, I wasn't!" Braig grinned back. "I was a perfectly normal teenager. I'm just a rebellious adult!"
Dilan rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, you're mature."
"Hey, I'm not the one who sleeps with - "
"Okay Braig. That's enough. Let's eat. That's what we're here for, right?" It wasn't a date. Dilan grabbed Braig's arm and pulled him towards an empty table.
"No, not that one!" Braig slid his arm out of Dilan's grasp, but then reached back and laced their fingers together. "We have to go over there!"
Dilan blushed - he was suddenly glad of the warm firelight and heady atmosphere. "Um... why do we need to be here, precisely?"
"Uhh... it's where I always sit!"
It's also dark, secluded, out of view of most of the pub, and lit by candlelight. Dilan rolled his eyes. Braig was lying, of course. He just couldn't figure out why...
"Come on, just shut up and relax. The food here is really good!"
Dilan sighed and took the seat closer to the back, so he could keep an eye on the crowd. Being around Braig always made him feel nervous and possessive. "Braig... you were about to tell the bartender that I sleep with a stuffed animal, and you expect me to relax?"
Braig looked hurt. "No I wasn't!"
"What were you going to say, then, that I sleep with you?" That had been an interesting night.
Of course not, I already told them that. "Nooo. That's beside the point... here, order this. You'll like it."
"And what if I don't?"
Braig rolled his eyes. "Then you can spear me in the face. Just get it!"
Actually, the dish did sound good - steak and crabcake. They chatted, argued, and occasionally kicked each other under the table.
"Actually, the reason I got this table..."
Dilan smirked. "Yeah, I was wondering about that."
"Isn't it obvious?" Braig shrugged, looking away. "I knew you'd rather be away from the crowd. Duh."
That earned him another kick. "I don't really care, you know. You obviously want to be there, not here."
"Not true!" Braig scowled. "I come here all the time."
"You see me all the time, too," Dilan pointed out.
Braig kicked him. "Not like this!"
"What, wearing a tight shirt in a dark corner of a pub?"
"Well... yes!" Braig kicked him again, harder. "It's a good look for you. You should do it more often."
Snort. "No."
"Please?"
"Why do you want to see me in the dark corner of a pub? What makes it any different from home?"
Well... it didn't. "Anyway. Here, I'll pay for..." he reached a hand out to pick up the receipt.
SLAP. Dilan's hand came down on top of it, slamming down onto the table. "No."
"What?! Ow! Get off me!"
"No. You're not paying. I am."
"What? As if!" Braig tried to free his hand, but it was totally trapped under Dilan's larger one. "I brought you here, I'll damn well pay for you!"
"No. You've done enough already tonight." Made me blush at least a thousand times. That should account for something.
"Come on, Dilan!"
"No!"
"But that makes me the bitch!"
"...what?"
"If you're paying for me, that makes me the bitch!"
Dilan leaned forward, pulling their hands closer to him, smirking. "And what makes you think you're not?"
Braig had no good answer for that. In fact, there was the distinct possibility that he didn't hear a damn word that Dilan had just said, because he was too busy drooling.
Dilan lifted his hand off, and deftly extracted the little slip of a receipt. "I'm paying."
"Okay..." Braig frowned. "But I pay for dessert?"
"What? No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Come on, Dilan! At least let me preserve some shred of my masculinity!"
"You have masculinity? I never noticed."
"Dilaaan!"
They left the pub, and Dilan followed Braig into a much more familiar part of town. He knew where they were headed - Ansem made him run out there often enough. The bell on the ice cream shop jangled when they walked in and joined the long line of people waiting to order.
Dilan sighed. He hated waiting, especially when it came to ice cream.
"Oh... hey guys."
Dilan looked up. It was Aeleus, holding the hand of a little girl with the same coppery hair and green eyes. "Hey," he said, surprised. Well, he shouldn't've been too surprised - Aeleus's family lived right in the city, probably closer to the ice cream store than the Radiant Garden.
"Have a nice night?" It was most certainly meant as entirely polite, but Dilan couldn't help the blush that spread up his neck.
"Uh... yes."
"Yeah, I touched base with Laguna - a bit," Braig added, hanging on Dilan's shoulder. He wished he wouldn't do that - it was more than a little distracting. "Squall's being a teenager."
"Naturally." He pushed his - sister? - up to the counter. "Leia, tell him what you want."
Braig resisted the urge to play with Dilan's thick black hair. "Having fun with the family?"
"Mmm." He held up a hand; so-so. "It's a lot of work. But a lot of fun." Aeleus had two brothers and four sisters - all younger than he was. He handed over the munny for Leia's ice cream, then turned back to wave good-bye. "Oh - Dilan - you look really nice." His expression was completely neutral. "You should dress like that more often. I guess I'll see you guys on Monday, bright and early." He waved, then ushered his sister out the door.
Dilan blinked in the direction of where Aeleus had been, digesting the compliment.
"See? I told you. Two cones; one chocolate, one strawberrry." He paid for them quickly while Dilan was still trying to process the fact that Aeleus, Aeleus, had just told him he looked good. So much for valuing his opinion, he thought. "Here." Dilan looked up; he took the cone that Braig was offering, only vaguely noticing that it was his favorite flavor.
They moved outside and began strolling along the cobbled streets, licking at their respecitive cones. Braig was making far more noise than was necessary, which was really rather immature, and goddamnit that licking noise was fucking distracting. "BRAIG. Stop that."
"Stop what?" He didn't stop, and Dilan was now looking at the source of the suggestive licking noises.
"THAT. Stop. It. Lick. STOP."
"Well, what do you want me to do first?" Liiick.
Dilan blushed darkly and turned back to his own ice cream. "N-never mind..."
"Hey, can I try yours?"
"What?"
Suddenly Braig was leaning over, licking his ice cream cone, and OHMYGOD that was his finger. HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF CRAP.
"Your face is gonna freeze like that one day," Braig informed him, "And it's going to be reeeaaally funny."
Glare. "Well, it's too bad about yours." He shrugged. "But hey, at least it can't get any uglier. Although..." he stopped, and stared at it.
"What?" Braig gave him a strange look. "Is there something on my face?"
"Yes." Dilan frowned. "Ice cream. It doesn't make it any better, though." Well, maybe a little. A lot. "Here, let me get it off..."
And to Braig's intense astonishment, he leaned in, took hold of Braig's chin with his hand, and gently licked off the offending smear of chocolate.
Ha. Dilan pulled back, a smug little grin on his face. Revenge is sweet. Literally.
"Hey... HEY! Get back here, what the hell was that about!"
They chased each other up the street, across the alleyways, and collapsed against the door to the Radiant Garden, out of breath. The ice cream cones had long been finished, discarded, and forgotten.
Dilan turned to say something snarky to Braig, and suddenly realized that their faces were centimeters apart. His breath hitched in his throat and he flushed immediately, forgetting everything he'd been about to say.
Braig was just as still, eyes catching in pools of violet like liquid gold. He opened his mouth to say something - then he, too, forgot whatever had been so important.
"Um..." Dilan tried very hard not to blink. One second of looking away would surely be a tragedy. "This... wasn't a date, right?"
Braig wanted to kill himself. Literally, wanted to stab himself, because Dilan was SUCH A BRICK. "Only... if you want it to be," he replied quietly, then turned to walk away. If Dilan still had no clue what Braig thought about him after this, well, he must be dumber than a mashmallow. Dumber than a whole goddamn bag of stupid fluffy white marshmallows!!
"...Wait." Dilan reached out and grabbed a hold of Braig's arm. He pulled him back, slowly, and turned him around.
Their lips met before he even had any idea was was happening, and their arms circled each other as if they belonged there. The kiss seemed to last forever - but it was over too soon, way too soon. Braig reached out for another kiss, softer, and wondered if he was dreaming.
He pulled away, looked up at Dilan - and bolted.
Dilan was startled by the sudden disappearance. ...Braig? He looked around. Crap.
He went back to his room in a daze, fumbling for the door handle. I probably just dreamt it. I'm delusional. They should lock me up, I already knew I was insane. He fell down onto his bed, and didn't even get undressed. That was a crazy, crazy thing to hallucinate. But damn. My subconscious sure knows how to kiss.
He couldn't remember taking off his shoes, but they weren't on in the morning, so he probably did. It was still early in the evening but he sleapt, dreamlessly, all night until dawn.
{ + }
Author's Notes:
Okay, some really interesting typos in this one. Well, while I was writing out the beginning part, I wrote this: "Braig sauntered in and took a seat for himself on his friend's lap." >_>. Apparently, my brain thought they should be closer together.
But yeah. The next couple of chapters (?) (it's a collection of one-shots...) are going to be shorter than this. YEY.