a collar's a collar, whether you're a grunt, third, second, first. so long as you're shinra property, they're not going to care.
but i guess we're somebody else's property now anyways. this place isn't much different from midgar in the end.
[ in the end, he can't begrudge him for wanting a shot -- for wanting something. isn't that how he'd gotten in his predicament to start with? ]
they've got an underground there. sell things you wouldn't find otherwise. might be good to have something on you in case someone tries to kidnap you again.
but fine. smoking it is. think you can be there in an hour?
You've got to admit I cut a stunning figure wearing their collar regardless. I wasn't a big fan of the ordinary trooper scarves but the red one I got when I started climbing the ranks in the mobile unit? 👌👌 Love at first sight.
[ Now if only he was able to stop turning them into grease rags when he'd work on his bike and tinker with all the others down in the parking garage for fun... At least the higher-ups don't have to worry about the uniform budget now that he's out of their hair, though the same can't be said for the budget for new machines. ]
It's sweet of you to worry but when I said "kidnap" I meant it more along the lines of them coaxing me into spending the evening with them. Not actual kidnapping. I promise I'm more than capable of handling myself should something like that ever happen with or without a weapon, and if I really do need one? I'm sure I could swing a chair around just fine.
I can do an hour. It'll give me time to gussy myself up for you ♥︎
[ there's another horrible headache incoming. alright, time to discard that line of thought. ]
oh
[ well now he feels STUPID. ]
right
see you soon enough
[ whatever. this is his best shot at making a decent outtro. give it an hour -- and he is, indeed, positioned at the entrance of the smoked egg. he's suited up in a leather jacket and dark jeans, boots strapped up to his calves. typical bikerwear, appropriate for the occasion. cloud is present on the dot for a change, eyes flitting down at his watch before he notes roche's presence. a silence passes and he strides up to him, body language a bit rigid and stiff -- it's him being awkward more than anything. ]
[ He's not the only one decked out in leathers. Ever since he'd stumbled across it, Roche has made a certain phoenix-themed jacket part of his daily wear in lieu of his old favorites from home, and though he technically doesn't have to wear one anymore, he can't quite shake the comfort of a good turtleneck underneath it all. Not like anyone could blame him though, not when he can make them work and work good.
As he spots Cloud, one hand moves over his heart as if it'd calm the way it quickens at the sight of him, his eyes alight with honest-to-gods joy. Be still, my beating heart. Do not screw this up— ]
I can't say I have, no. I've thought about it once or twice but going to one of these places alone isn't nearly as fun.
[ He takes a slow breath and once he's certain his heart isn't at risk of fluttering from his body, Roche allows himself to give Cloud a careful look from head-to-toe. ]
[ it would be a lie to say he didn't dig the look; if he could give the man credit for anything, in full faith, it's that he had an undeniable flair. cloud's hands are dug into his pockets in some attempt to project a cool and detached disposition, but in reality he looks--
more clumsily withdrawn than anything. it's fine. he's in the process of formulating a response, but his brain scrambles in real time before he can.
his cheeks are not welling with heat, it's fine. you don't see the way the faintest shade of pink crawls across his skin in the dark, nope. cloud opens his mouth. then closes it. then opens it again. ]
...That's-- That's one word for it.
[ great comeback, really. ]
...Only been here twice myself. [ a beat. ] Think they had places like this back in Midgar, but -- I had better things to do. Other places to be.
[ no, he did not. but moving on. the waitstaff usher them into the lounge; the air is thick with smoke, haze-like and surreal as if the very interior of the place is fraying at its edges. they're guided to a large, plush booth, bong front and center. cloud practically hangs off one of its ends. ]
...I can't shake it. [ his eyes roam far ahead, looking into the ether. ] This feeling, like... we should be fighting.... something. Anything.
[ He remembers an old bar that had something like this in Midgar, back when he'd first started venturing out into the city. As Roche claims his own spot in the booth and starts to thumb through the basket of assorted tobaccos placed next to the bong, he takes a moment to think back on it. That place was much more... seedier than this place, that's for damned sure. Back then, he remembers myriad pairs of eyes leering at him — a newcomer and an outsider encroaching on their turf — while he'd let himself be dazzled by the crew he'd fallen in with. Gods, what was that place called? Not Mad Malboro, no... That was the good one, the classy place over in Eight.
Roche shakes his head after a moment, deciding it wasn't that important. When he can't find what he was looking for, he slides the basket over towards Cloud and tilts his chin at it in a silent request of pick something. In the meantime, he turns his attention to the bong and sets to work on setting everything else up with steady hands. ]
Something-anything other than this, you mean?
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand out for whatever it is he picks. ]
Is it because of our respective, ah... allegiances? Or something else?
[ somehow, he doesn't expect it-- having to pick. there were aphrodisiacs here, as there were in any other part of the resort, and he's keen to avoid them. but he was only so capable of it, given that every single aspect of this gilded paradise of theirs was dedicated to facilitating sex.
chocolate makes you horny. he knows that much. his fingers skirt over it. vanilla makes you... feel the depths of someone else's grief, stupor, what have you-- "okay, maybe let's not do that either." his hand settles on a strand of strawberry, the scent positively delightful, enticing him more than it should be.
alright. fine. what's the worst that could happen? cloud sets it in the palm of roche's hand, the pads of his fingers brushing up against his skin. ]
Mm. [ he mulls over it for a moment. ] ...Don't think it's that. Fighting's just in who we are. ...At least, that's how it is for me.
[ his shoulders roll back, and his back leans into the plush of the loveseat. ]
So it's--...weird. To not have to do it here... To not be allowed to. And... they took my sword. [ a drawn out silence. ] I can't forgive 'em for that -- no matter what.
[ With the tobacco in hand, Roche gets about packing it on in. The only time he pauses is when he picks up a few lighters to find the working one, because goddamnit they always leave duds out on the table at these places. Four, maybe five flicks of his thumb later and he hits the jackpot. Charcoal? Come to daddy— ]
Who says we're not allowed to fight? I've gone at it with a few of the long-time residents already. One was... I think he said he used to be a wrestler? A real one, not like the ones you'd see on stage with costumes and dramatic storylines. I told him I'm a military man and he wanted to go a few rounds, and then there was a man who tackled me outside of that little get-together our hosts threw for us some weeks ago. We damn near tore each other apart, but...
[ Roche waves some of the smoke away when it starts going and if he looks a little proud of himself? Well, let him live, okay? All that's left now is to wait for the rest of it to catch.]
Point is, I truly don't think they care about the occasional fight or brawl so long as one doesn't decide to start swinging at everyone who looks at them funny or says hello.
[ A glance, and Roche lets himself ease back against the seat too, one brow arched in curiosity. Clearly there's more to it than just a sword, but... he isn't going to paw at that particular door like an unruly behemoth. He's smarter than that. ]
They do have wooden ones in a specialized room down in the Beak. They don't let you take them off the floor but if you're itching to go a few rounds like that versus hand-to-hand, I'd be happy to oblige.
[ a plume of smoke materializes, edged with wisps of silver as it whirls about them. cloud, very pathetically, lets out a dry cough as he acclimates-- he's a baby smoker, please let him live...
but eventually, the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. he's quiet, back impressing onto the fabric of the loveseat. roche is right there, next to him. right. everything reeks so potently of strawberry right now. ]
...Not the same as my Buster Sword. [ his eyes flicker down. ] It--
It was special.
[ he sounds like such a kid right now. if it weren't for the sweet haze enveloping him right now, he'd shrink right into himself. ]
...Fighting for your life and fighting for fun are two different things. I guess-- it's the same, for some people...
[ a beat. ]
I'm...
I'm kind of into a good fight. The ones that really get your blood pumping... the ones where you have no idea if you'll make it out of there in one piece. Yeah, those ones...
[ a moment passes -- and he jolts up, as if suddenly cognizant of what he said.
[ The shift happens so fast Roche feels like he barely has time to blink. One minute he's watching Cloud trying to blend in with the seat, and the next he jumps like a chocobo had pecked him right on the asscheck. Try as he might he can't completely stifle his laugh but it's not as wild as it was on his bike. This one is more quiet and subdued in comparison and the smile he flashes bears no ill will, teasing, or mockery.
It's genuine. ]
Didn't mean to let that one slip? It's fine, Cloud.
[ Saying his name for real feels... good. Really, really good if he's allowed to be honest with himself. Sure, Roche loves coming up with nicknames and petnames for pretty much everyone he meets in his life but there was something much more intimate about using the former. Something in his heart flutters, and he reaches for one of the hoses to finally take a proper drag before he exhales the smoke through his nose like some mythical sea serpent from Wutai's legends.
He wordlessly offers it up with a little wiggle-wave. ]
I get it. The line between fighting and foreplay is so thin that it may as well not exist for me but it's... very rare that I find myself in a situation where it blurs in with the rest of the road. That's partially why I push my engine as hard as I do — I want that thrill and I can't quite find it among my own brothers and sisters within the company.
[ Sparring troopers wasn't much fun when they came to him. Other Thirds? Trouncing them was easy. Seconds... They could put up a damned good fight, but they were outnumbered by those in his own rank. Firsts? Ha, that's funny. Now, the road? That's where the real rush was. ]
So, believe me when I say there's nothing to be ashamed of. I'd even go out on a limb and wager that having that kind of response is natural.
[ the strangest thing about roche, to cloud, is his constant stream of unpredictability; this resort, for was lascivious and luxurious as it was, had every last one of them caged at their cores. cloud blinks as if taking it all in, the gentleness of his reaction, the benign and brisk reassurance he offers.
the sudden onslaught of his high right now isn't exactly helping. he's used to the grandeur -- to his more grandiose expressions. and less used to people attempting to make him feel... normal. even when he knows, deep within his heart, that he's not. that he never has been, and never will be.
cloud's breath is caught in his throat. flush creeps into his cheeks, although he hopes that the low light of the lounge obscures it. ]
...I don't know. [ he admits more honestly. ] Maybe it isn't normal for everyone. Maybe it's just us.
[ cloud's eyes flicker away. his inhibitions are lowering in real time -- words tumble out of his mouth, haphazard and earnest. ]
...Back in Midgar. When we were racing-- [ a pause. ] S'that mean you... were turned on, or?
[ It's not a no which is the important part. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't, nor did he bother holding back when it came to the stupid, wild shit that came out of his mouth that night. He'd do it all over again if he could too, and he will the instant the opportunity presents itself even if it's not quite the way he'd like it to go. ]
Though I wouldn't say it's just us. I've met a few people in my time here and back home who seem to ride the same roads, though I will say that we're quite different compared to everyone else here. We're SOLDIERs, you and I, and that makes our bond that much more special. People could try but I don't think they'd truly understand what it's like for us.
[ Roche tilts his head and for a moment, the light catches his eyes in just the right way to make the mako truly shine. ]
You felt it too, didn't you? If I'm not mistaken I could've sworn I felt a spark ignite between us that night, and I don't mean the ones I was casting.
[ in ordinary circumstances, it'd be easier to lie -- to keep everything firmly lodged behind that deliberately constructed mask of his. but the smoke makes him play looser, easier, and cloud meets roche's gaze. mako intermingles with mako, the light casting off of each other's eyes. ]
...Yeah. I--...
I did. [ he admits honestly, withdrawing into his more sheepish, boy-like core. ]
I don't...really know what to do about that.
[ where to take that feeling -- or what comes from it. especially here. ]
[ Everything and anything is what he wants to say. Those three simple words sit poised on the end of his tongue while he taps and rolls the mouthpiece of his hose over his bottom lip, thinking and choosing his next words. As spontaneous as he can be, he knows that there's a time and place for such behavior and Roche knows that now isn't one of those moments. ]
Ha. I... Given the circumstances I'd gladly take whatever you saw fit to offer, as would I be happy to give whatever you'd ask of me.
[ Because what he truly yearns for — hearing the sweet, cacophonous roar of both of their engines skirting the red and singing together — was nearly impossible in the resort. The vehicles in the garage were good, yes. Good, beautiful, and begging to let their songs be heard after months and years of being kept silent if the old-timers were to be believed, but they weren't the ones Roche wanted to share. Their frames couldn't handle one SOLDIER let alone two, not like his girl could.
He misses that red beauty more than ever. ]
Even if I only manage to steal moments like this. When I said I wanted to know you, I meant it, Cloud.
[ his heart is a metronome, ticking in the silence, eyes peering straight ahead. for a moment -- he loses himself in his own mind, as if trying to parse the words bit by bit, not sure of what to make of them. heat spreads across his body in waves, reminiscent of wildfire, and any real words he could manage are clinging to the confines of his throat.
he blinks once. then twice. in the dark, both of their eyes glow wildly, like the spark of an engine. cloud shifts closer, the heel of his palm pressing down against roche's thigh. ]
...We don't have any bikes here.
[ no shit, buddy. a beat. ]
I...
[ the strawberry haze coaxes something inexplicably truthful out of him -- something honest. ]
Don't think-- I know myself either...
[ he swallows. ]
...Hey. [ a drawn out silence. ] ...Let me touch you.
[ Roche isn't sure what makes him laugh first — his own insistence, or Cloud's weight pressing into his thigh for a heartbeat or three. It's most likely the former, but maybe it's also because the sudden contact tickles. Or it surprises him. Either way, it's not a bad laugh, more... subdued, easy and personal than it is wild and meant for the world to hear. He spends hundreds and thousands of miles with his needle touching the red that he sometimes forgets that it's actually okay to slide into a lower gear and let the road tell him when to kick it up a notch.
He exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth like one of Wutai's great serpents and tilts his head a little, as if he's considering when in reality his mind was already made up.
Roche leans back into the booth and stretches his arms up over the back of it, his pipe and hose dangling harmlessly from his fingers for a few moments. It's the closest thing to submission he'll ever get like this, and he nods once. ]
Go right ahead. My hands'll stay right up here if that's where you want 'em.
[ If Cloud doesn't know himself? It's really the least Roche can do — letting him go at his own pace. Let that engine warm up on its own. ]
[ he shouldn't be surprised -- and he shouldn't be growing shy, but in spite of his moment of boldness, the sudden spike in audacity, he fights the urge to whittle away into the shadows. cloud swallows -- then nods, placidly, blinking through the haze.
it's a complete juxtaposition from wheels searing against the road, heart juddering against his ribcage. the palms of his hands lay flat against roche's sides. they feel for the hardness of his muscle, the contours and dips of his body. inquisitively, and knee deep in his own thoughts, he shapes out the strength of his flesh and form.
he was a SOLDIER -- his body is a testament to that in ways cloud's wasn't. his hands traverse upwards, and his eyes flit across his chest, bright blue smearing against the darkness of the room. ]
[ He'd be lying if he said he never dreamed of this — of having Cloud's hands on him away from the battlefield, even if he'd barely known the man for more than one evening. Even though it's through two layers of clothing he can feel the strength in his fingers as they press and dig into his ribs, into his flanks, and over his abdomen and were this anyone else, Roche likely would've started stretching or flexing to show off without really showing. He'd done such things to humor his bolder fans (the pictures of having someone hanging off his arms were absolutely worth it), and he absolutely wasn't against flaunting what he had to strangers in bars, but...
Cloud wasn't them.
It's because of that reason Roche does his best to keep his gears in neutral, but what really does it? It's the uncertainty he thinks he hears in his voice. At least it's what he'd call it if it were coming out of his own mouth. Roche watches him for a few moments, head tilting in thought. ]
I'd certainly hope so after everything I endured.
[ Everything he'd have to endure if the rumors and whispers were true. ]
[ it's easy to play a role, isn't it? to slink right into it like it was made for you, and let it absorb you, a disease of your own making. people could be anything they wanted to be. pretending could take you so, so far.
his head is throbbing again, faintly, through the fog. he doesn't want to think about it. cloud's fingers stop shy of his waist, and his thighs are shifting against him, face close enough that his breath is beating onto his skin. ]
...You do.
[ he means that, earnestly. if there was truly an outlier here: it wasn't roche. maybe that's what scares him. his fingers creep underneath the hem of his shirt, searching for skin and the contours of his muscle. yes, this was the hardened body of a SOLDIER; it was unlike the way his own skin clung to bone and marrow, a kind of uncanniness that people could always recognize in him.
for a moment, there's a pang of envy. jealousy. want. ]
I believe you.
[ "but i don't believe myself." ]
...Do you want me on top of you?
[ it's a question more than it is a statement, like he's fumbling in the dark here -- but it's grounded in desire too as his fingers spread apart, feeling for him intently. ]
[ It comes out in a sort of half-laugh, half-exhale. What he wants... Phoenix, there was so much that he wants and that's always been the thing with Roche, hasn't it? Adventure, danger, high speeds, and all the thrills that came with it. Most of it was short-lived when he did find it, but something was born that night in the 7-6 annex. Something that had seized Roche's heart and refused to let go, and he was looking at the very man who'd sparked that feeling.
He wants a lot of things, and it's difficult to keep his hands where Cloud could see them. His hands flex a few times against the faux leather of the booth and when he takes a deep breath, he holds it. Counts back from five, and slowly lets it out. Wheels back on the road, he tells himself. There's no need to push the needle into the red yet. Once he seems more certain of himself, Roche drops one hand down to lightly pat at his own thigh with another quiet laugh. ]
Best seat in the house. Saddle up, Sundrop.
[ And with his hand so close to Cloud's... Roche dares. His own fingers stretch out, searching and almost tentative until he feels his pinky make contact. He promised he wouldn't bite, and he doesn't. He's still careful even as he tries to wiggle it underneath, aiming to link their fingers together and then some. ]
May I? I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about what your hands looked like since we met, nor am I ashamed to admit as such.
[ he has to push back against his own fight or flight instinct -- everyone else... knew the ins and outs of intimacy, of touch and connection. it came unnaturally to him, a horribly foreign thing he still felt himself grappling with. roche is experienced in all of the ways he isn't.
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
[ He pounces on the opportunity in a heartbeat, thumbs tracing over the creases of Cloud's palm for several moments before he turns his attention to mapping out every callus and scar he can find. They feel softer than he expected, but does Roche care or mind? Hell no, especially not when it's finally happening. So what if it's only been a scant few days as far as Midgar was concerned? To him, it may as well be a lifetime — even moreso when he takes the time spent here into account. ]
I never had a reason to let it. I've felt bouts of embarrassment and whatnot before, but never shame. Never genuine shame. Life is far too short for me to worry about things like that, you know? I'd much rather spend the one I do have to the fullest. And...
[ It's here that Roche gets daring; it's brief and almost too casual, but as his touches to Cloud's hald slow he ducks his head to press his lips to the tips of his fingers in a quiet thank you gesture. ]
...there's nothing shameful about being true to one's heart, even if others seem to take issue with it. Believe me, I'd know.
[ the brush of his lips against the tips of his fingers incites a spark of warmth that trails up his nerves; it sits in his sternum, and cloud is wholly still for a change, the everlasting jumble that had been his brain screeching to a halt.
it reminds him of someone-- someone he still struggles to remember, even now. a SOLDIER. a real SOLDIER. he was real too, wasn't he?
something clings to the back of cloud's throat. he opens his mouth to speak before his jaw clenches again, tensing. two palms plant onto roche's shoulders. then as if bypassing the gentleness of his touch, he kisses him hard, lips slotting against his as he searches for something tangible. ]
...Show people your hand--
[ it's spoken through grit teeth, eyes fluttering shut. ]
[ By all means Roche should be infuriated by the weight behind the hands on his shoulder. Infuriated by the sudden realization that he actually... wants to ease off the throttle and coast? Whatever surge of anger (towards himself) that erupts in his heart is smothered just as quickly as it came to life by the kiss, so much that at first all he's able to muster is a quiet, shuddering sigh when they part. Heat, strawberries, smoke, and something distinctly Cloud lingers on his lips, though this time Roche isn't entirely too sure if it's those damned enhanced senses given to him courtesy of SOLDIER or his own infatuation toying with his head. Whatever the cause, he doesn't really care — the only thing that matters is it's downright intoxicating, and it's here and now that he chooses to throw what little remainder of caution he had into the wind.
Cloud may have him "pinned", but it leaves Roche's hands free to wander up the length of his arms starting at the wrist. Up past the elbows, higher and higher... Over one of Cloud's shoulders, and finally he moves to cup one half of his face in his palm. Gentle, like he's something precious and important. ]
I would never. Not like that.
[ Softly, in contrast to what sounded... almost forced to Roche's ears. They could just be playing tricks on him, but... He's never had any reason to doubt his own hearing yet despite the harsh, constant noise he subjected them to throughout his entire life. His thumb sweeps over a cheekbone, and Roche cranes his head to lightly bump the tips of their noses together. ]
And I know you wouldn't, either. In fact... I'd give it freely. You only need to ask, my friend, and if it's within my power to grant then I swear on Phoenix's feathered bosom I'll do my best.
[ there's the part of cloud that wants to begrudge him, call him a naive man for this--"you barely know me. i barely know myself. why in the world would you trust me?"
but each and every syllable whittles away beneath his tongue, nowhere to be found. why? is it the casino, that compels him to accept this all encompassing warmth, the embers of connection he'd been so eager to snuff out. in a fraction of a second, cloud's features blank, unsure of how to externalize the haphazard, garbage assembly of feeling polluting his brain. he turns to roche's palm, teeth grit, eyes wrenched shut. a stupidly vulnerable position, and one he can't forfeit.
there's a slow shake of the head, but he doesn't remove his hand. nose to nose, cheek to cheek, roche's breath beats against his face and his heart clenches. ]
...I'm--
[ "afraid -- and alone, and i don't know why." he was never in his own mind, his own body, never at the right place at the right time. his hands curl against roche's shoulders for purchase, and he kisses him again, as if to compensate for his inability to verbalize the white noise in his head. ]
Someone's gonna hurt you one day, you know-- [ he says in a breath, fingers clenching. ]
You can't... just give yourself to people like that...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but i guess we're somebody else's property now anyways. this place isn't much different from midgar in the end.
[ in the end, he can't begrudge him for wanting a shot -- for wanting something. isn't that how he'd gotten in his predicament to start with? ]
they've got an underground there. sell things you wouldn't find otherwise. might be good to have something on you in case someone tries to kidnap you again.
but fine. smoking it is. think you can be there in an hour?
no subject
[ Now if only he was able to stop turning them into grease rags when he'd work on his bike and tinker with all the others down in the parking garage for fun... At least the higher-ups don't have to worry about the uniform budget now that he's out of their hair, though the same can't be said for the budget for new machines. ]
It's sweet of you to worry but when I said "kidnap" I meant it more along the lines of them coaxing me into spending the evening with them. Not actual kidnapping. I promise I'm more than capable of handling myself should something like that ever happen with or without a weapon, and if I really do need one? I'm sure I could swing a chair around just fine.
I can do an hour. It'll give me time to gussy myself up for you ♥︎
no subject
[ there's another horrible headache incoming. alright, time to discard that line of thought. ]
oh
[ well now he feels STUPID. ]
right
see you soon enough
[ whatever. this is his best shot at making a decent outtro. give it an hour -- and he is, indeed, positioned at the entrance of the smoked egg. he's suited up in a leather jacket and dark jeans, boots strapped up to his calves. typical bikerwear, appropriate for the occasion. cloud is present on the dot for a change, eyes flitting down at his watch before he notes roche's presence. a silence passes and he strides up to him, body language a bit rigid and stiff -- it's him being awkward more than anything. ]
...Hey. [ a beat. ] You, uh, been here before?
no subject
As he spots Cloud, one hand moves over his heart as if it'd calm the way it quickens at the sight of him, his eyes alight with honest-to-gods joy. Be still, my beating heart. Do not screw this up— ]
I can't say I have, no. I've thought about it once or twice but going to one of these places alone isn't nearly as fun.
[ He takes a slow breath and once he's certain his heart isn't at risk of fluttering from his body, Roche allows himself to give Cloud a careful look from head-to-toe. ]
You're still as dashing as I remember.
no subject
more clumsily withdrawn than anything. it's fine. he's in the process of formulating a response, but his brain scrambles in real time before he can.
his cheeks are not welling with heat, it's fine. you don't see the way the faintest shade of pink crawls across his skin in the dark, nope. cloud opens his mouth. then closes it. then opens it again. ]
...That's-- That's one word for it.
[ great comeback, really. ]
...Only been here twice myself. [ a beat. ] Think they had places like this back in Midgar, but -- I had better things to do. Other places to be.
[ no, he did not. but moving on. the waitstaff usher them into the lounge; the air is thick with smoke, haze-like and surreal as if the very interior of the place is fraying at its edges. they're guided to a large, plush booth, bong front and center. cloud practically hangs off one of its ends. ]
...I can't shake it. [ his eyes roam far ahead, looking into the ether. ] This feeling, like... we should be fighting.... something. Anything.
no subject
Roche shakes his head after a moment, deciding it wasn't that important. When he can't find what he was looking for, he slides the basket over towards Cloud and tilts his chin at it in a silent request of pick something. In the meantime, he turns his attention to the bong and sets to work on setting everything else up with steady hands. ]
Something-anything other than this, you mean?
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand out for whatever it is he picks. ]
Is it because of our respective, ah... allegiances? Or something else?
no subject
chocolate makes you horny. he knows that much. his fingers skirt over it. vanilla makes you... feel the depths of someone else's grief, stupor, what have you-- "okay, maybe let's not do that either." his hand settles on a strand of strawberry, the scent positively delightful, enticing him more than it should be.
alright. fine. what's the worst that could happen? cloud sets it in the palm of roche's hand, the pads of his fingers brushing up against his skin. ]
Mm. [ he mulls over it for a moment. ] ...Don't think it's that. Fighting's just in who we are. ...At least, that's how it is for me.
[ his shoulders roll back, and his back leans into the plush of the loveseat. ]
So it's--...weird. To not have to do it here... To not be allowed to. And... they took my sword. [ a drawn out silence. ] I can't forgive 'em for that -- no matter what.
no subject
Who says we're not allowed to fight? I've gone at it with a few of the long-time residents already. One was... I think he said he used to be a wrestler? A real one, not like the ones you'd see on stage with costumes and dramatic storylines. I told him I'm a military man and he wanted to go a few rounds, and then there was a man who tackled me outside of that little get-together our hosts threw for us some weeks ago. We damn near tore each other apart, but...
[ Roche waves some of the smoke away when it starts going and if he looks a little proud of himself? Well, let him live, okay? All that's left now is to wait for the rest of it to catch.]
Point is, I truly don't think they care about the occasional fight or brawl so long as one doesn't decide to start swinging at everyone who looks at them funny or says hello.
[ A glance, and Roche lets himself ease back against the seat too, one brow arched in curiosity. Clearly there's more to it than just a sword, but... he isn't going to paw at that particular door like an unruly behemoth. He's smarter than that. ]
They do have wooden ones in a specialized room down in the Beak. They don't let you take them off the floor but if you're itching to go a few rounds like that versus hand-to-hand, I'd be happy to oblige.
no subject
but eventually, the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. he's quiet, back impressing onto the fabric of the loveseat. roche is right there, next to him. right. everything reeks so potently of strawberry right now. ]
...Not the same as my Buster Sword. [ his eyes flicker down. ] It--
It was special.
[ he sounds like such a kid right now. if it weren't for the sweet haze enveloping him right now, he'd shrink right into himself. ]
...Fighting for your life and fighting for fun are two different things. I guess-- it's the same, for some people...
[ a beat. ]
I'm...
I'm kind of into a good fight. The ones that really get your blood pumping... the ones where you have no idea if you'll make it out of there in one piece. Yeah, those ones...
[ a moment passes -- and he jolts up, as if suddenly cognizant of what he said.
oh, fuck. this was one of those flavors. ]
...You have got to be kidding me.
no subject
It's genuine. ]
Didn't mean to let that one slip? It's fine, Cloud.
[ Saying his name for real feels... good. Really, really good if he's allowed to be honest with himself. Sure, Roche loves coming up with nicknames and petnames for pretty much everyone he meets in his life but there was something much more intimate about using the former. Something in his heart flutters, and he reaches for one of the hoses to finally take a proper drag before he exhales the smoke through his nose like some mythical sea serpent from Wutai's legends.
He wordlessly offers it up with a little wiggle-wave. ]
I get it. The line between fighting and foreplay is so thin that it may as well not exist for me but it's... very rare that I find myself in a situation where it blurs in with the rest of the road. That's partially why I push my engine as hard as I do — I want that thrill and I can't quite find it among my own brothers and sisters within the company.
[ Sparring troopers wasn't much fun when they came to him. Other Thirds? Trouncing them was easy. Seconds... They could put up a damned good fight, but they were outnumbered by those in his own rank. Firsts? Ha, that's funny. Now, the road? That's where the real rush was. ]
So, believe me when I say there's nothing to be ashamed of. I'd even go out on a limb and wager that having that kind of response is natural.
no subject
the sudden onslaught of his high right now isn't exactly helping. he's used to the grandeur -- to his more grandiose expressions. and less used to people attempting to make him feel... normal. even when he knows, deep within his heart, that he's not. that he never has been, and never will be.
cloud's breath is caught in his throat. flush creeps into his cheeks, although he hopes that the low light of the lounge obscures it. ]
...I don't know. [ he admits more honestly. ] Maybe it isn't normal for everyone. Maybe it's just us.
[ cloud's eyes flicker away. his inhibitions are lowering in real time -- words tumble out of his mouth, haphazard and earnest. ]
...Back in Midgar. When we were racing-- [ a pause. ] S'that mean you... were turned on, or?
no subject
[ It's not a no which is the important part. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't, nor did he bother holding back when it came to the stupid, wild shit that came out of his mouth that night. He'd do it all over again if he could too, and he will the instant the opportunity presents itself even if it's not quite the way he'd like it to go. ]
Though I wouldn't say it's just us. I've met a few people in my time here and back home who seem to ride the same roads, though I will say that we're quite different compared to everyone else here. We're SOLDIERs, you and I, and that makes our bond that much more special. People could try but I don't think they'd truly understand what it's like for us.
[ Roche tilts his head and for a moment, the light catches his eyes in just the right way to make the mako truly shine. ]
You felt it too, didn't you? If I'm not mistaken I could've sworn I felt a spark ignite between us that night, and I don't mean the ones I was casting.
no subject
[ in ordinary circumstances, it'd be easier to lie -- to keep everything firmly lodged behind that deliberately constructed mask of his. but the smoke makes him play looser, easier, and cloud meets roche's gaze. mako intermingles with mako, the light casting off of each other's eyes. ]
...Yeah. I--...
I did. [ he admits honestly, withdrawing into his more sheepish, boy-like core. ]
I don't...really know what to do about that.
[ where to take that feeling -- or what comes from it. especially here. ]
...What do you want to do about it?
no subject
[ Everything and anything is what he wants to say. Those three simple words sit poised on the end of his tongue while he taps and rolls the mouthpiece of his hose over his bottom lip, thinking and choosing his next words. As spontaneous as he can be, he knows that there's a time and place for such behavior and Roche knows that now isn't one of those moments. ]
Ha. I... Given the circumstances I'd gladly take whatever you saw fit to offer, as would I be happy to give whatever you'd ask of me.
[ Because what he truly yearns for — hearing the sweet, cacophonous roar of both of their engines skirting the red and singing together — was nearly impossible in the resort. The vehicles in the garage were good, yes. Good, beautiful, and begging to let their songs be heard after months and years of being kept silent if the old-timers were to be believed, but they weren't the ones Roche wanted to share. Their frames couldn't handle one SOLDIER let alone two, not like his girl could.
He misses that red beauty more than ever. ]
Even if I only manage to steal moments like this. When I said I wanted to know you, I meant it, Cloud.
no subject
he blinks once. then twice. in the dark, both of their eyes glow wildly, like the spark of an engine. cloud shifts closer, the heel of his palm pressing down against roche's thigh. ]
...We don't have any bikes here.
[ no shit, buddy. a beat. ]
I...
[ the strawberry haze coaxes something inexplicably truthful out of him -- something honest. ]
Don't think-- I know myself either...
[ he swallows. ]
...Hey. [ a drawn out silence. ] ...Let me touch you.
no subject
[ Roche isn't sure what makes him laugh first — his own insistence, or Cloud's weight pressing into his thigh for a heartbeat or three. It's most likely the former, but maybe it's also because the sudden contact tickles. Or it surprises him. Either way, it's not a bad laugh, more... subdued, easy and personal than it is wild and meant for the world to hear. He spends hundreds and thousands of miles with his needle touching the red that he sometimes forgets that it's actually okay to slide into a lower gear and let the road tell him when to kick it up a notch.
He exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth like one of Wutai's great serpents and tilts his head a little, as if he's considering when in reality his mind was already made up.
Roche leans back into the booth and stretches his arms up over the back of it, his pipe and hose dangling harmlessly from his fingers for a few moments. It's the closest thing to submission he'll ever get like this, and he nods once. ]
Go right ahead. My hands'll stay right up here if that's where you want 'em.
[ If Cloud doesn't know himself? It's really the least Roche can do — letting him go at his own pace. Let that engine warm up on its own. ]
no subject
it's a complete juxtaposition from wheels searing against the road, heart juddering against his ribcage. the palms of his hands lay flat against roche's sides. they feel for the hardness of his muscle, the contours and dips of his body. inquisitively, and knee deep in his own thoughts, he shapes out the strength of his flesh and form.
he was a SOLDIER -- his body is a testament to that in ways cloud's wasn't. his hands traverse upwards, and his eyes flit across his chest, bright blue smearing against the darkness of the room. ]
...You're--
[ his throat is tightening again. ]
A real SOLDIER, aren't you?
no subject
Cloud wasn't them.
It's because of that reason Roche does his best to keep his gears in neutral, but what really does it? It's the uncertainty he thinks he hears in his voice. At least it's what he'd call it if it were coming out of his own mouth. Roche watches him for a few moments, head tilting in thought. ]
I'd certainly hope so after everything I endured.
[ Everything he'd have to endure if the rumors and whispers were true. ]
Do I not look the part?
no subject
his head is throbbing again, faintly, through the fog. he doesn't want to think about it. cloud's fingers stop shy of his waist, and his thighs are shifting against him, face close enough that his breath is beating onto his skin. ]
...You do.
[ he means that, earnestly. if there was truly an outlier here: it wasn't roche. maybe that's what scares him. his fingers creep underneath the hem of his shirt, searching for skin and the contours of his muscle. yes, this was the hardened body of a SOLDIER; it was unlike the way his own skin clung to bone and marrow, a kind of uncanniness that people could always recognize in him.
for a moment, there's a pang of envy. jealousy. want. ]
I believe you.
[ "but i don't believe myself." ]
...Do you want me on top of you?
[ it's a question more than it is a statement, like he's fumbling in the dark here -- but it's grounded in desire too as his fingers spread apart, feeling for him intently. ]
no subject
[ It comes out in a sort of half-laugh, half-exhale. What he wants... Phoenix, there was so much that he wants and that's always been the thing with Roche, hasn't it? Adventure, danger, high speeds, and all the thrills that came with it. Most of it was short-lived when he did find it, but something was born that night in the 7-6 annex. Something that had seized Roche's heart and refused to let go, and he was looking at the very man who'd sparked that feeling.
He wants a lot of things, and it's difficult to keep his hands where Cloud could see them. His hands flex a few times against the faux leather of the booth and when he takes a deep breath, he holds it. Counts back from five, and slowly lets it out. Wheels back on the road, he tells himself. There's no need to push the needle into the red yet. Once he seems more certain of himself, Roche drops one hand down to lightly pat at his own thigh with another quiet laugh. ]
Best seat in the house. Saddle up, Sundrop.
[ And with his hand so close to Cloud's... Roche dares. His own fingers stretch out, searching and almost tentative until he feels his pinky make contact. He promised he wouldn't bite, and he doesn't. He's still careful even as he tries to wiggle it underneath, aiming to link their fingers together and then some. ]
May I? I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about what your hands looked like since we met, nor am I ashamed to admit as such.
no subject
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
...I don't get it.
[ he lapses into silence. ]
Shame...never matters to you. How?
no subject
I never had a reason to let it. I've felt bouts of embarrassment and whatnot before, but never shame. Never genuine shame. Life is far too short for me to worry about things like that, you know? I'd much rather spend the one I do have to the fullest. And...
[ It's here that Roche gets daring; it's brief and almost too casual, but as his touches to Cloud's hald slow he ducks his head to press his lips to the tips of his fingers in a quiet thank you gesture. ]
...there's nothing shameful about being true to one's heart, even if others seem to take issue with it. Believe me, I'd know.
no subject
it reminds him of someone-- someone he still struggles to remember, even now. a SOLDIER. a real SOLDIER. he was real too, wasn't he?
something clings to the back of cloud's throat. he opens his mouth to speak before his jaw clenches again, tensing. two palms plant onto roche's shoulders. then as if bypassing the gentleness of his touch, he kisses him hard, lips slotting against his as he searches for something tangible. ]
...Show people your hand--
[ it's spoken through grit teeth, eyes fluttering shut. ]
And they'll just-- take everything from you.
no subject
Cloud may have him "pinned", but it leaves Roche's hands free to wander up the length of his arms starting at the wrist. Up past the elbows, higher and higher... Over one of Cloud's shoulders, and finally he moves to cup one half of his face in his palm. Gentle, like he's something precious and important. ]
I would never. Not like that.
[ Softly, in contrast to what sounded... almost forced to Roche's ears. They could just be playing tricks on him, but... He's never had any reason to doubt his own hearing yet despite the harsh, constant noise he subjected them to throughout his entire life. His thumb sweeps over a cheekbone, and Roche cranes his head to lightly bump the tips of their noses together. ]
And I know you wouldn't, either. In fact... I'd give it freely. You only need to ask, my friend, and if it's within my power to grant then I swear on Phoenix's feathered bosom I'll do my best.
no subject
but each and every syllable whittles away beneath his tongue, nowhere to be found. why? is it the casino, that compels him to accept this all encompassing warmth, the embers of connection he'd been so eager to snuff out. in a fraction of a second, cloud's features blank, unsure of how to externalize the haphazard, garbage assembly of feeling polluting his brain. he turns to roche's palm, teeth grit, eyes wrenched shut. a stupidly vulnerable position, and one he can't forfeit.
there's a slow shake of the head, but he doesn't remove his hand. nose to nose, cheek to cheek, roche's breath beats against his face and his heart clenches. ]
...I'm--
[ "afraid -- and alone, and i don't know why." he was never in his own mind, his own body, never at the right place at the right time. his hands curl against roche's shoulders for purchase, and he kisses him again, as if to compensate for his inability to verbalize the white noise in his head. ]
Someone's gonna hurt you one day, you know-- [ he says in a breath, fingers clenching. ]
You can't... just give yourself to people like that...
[ it's spoken out of concern. he knows that. ]
You're still a person.
(no subject)
(no subject)