[ Yuri lets himself be disappointed for a bare second, staring at his now-blank relic before he hears the rustle of wings, and then a hand is on his shoulder, and his heart speeds up, but he doesn't move. His tail swishes against Flynn's hip ]
[ For a bare second Flynn is tempted to swing his legs across Yuri's lap, press himself close, but—this is a public place, and there are other people around, and so he only presses himself closer, letting his fingers trail over the nape of Yuri's neck under his hair. ]
[ Yuri shivers, with the promise from Flynn, the thrill of having him close, the intense desire Yuri has to be with him. Is it the soulmate thing? He doesn't know. He doesn't really care right now.
He glances back at Flynn with a smile, his eyes dropping to Flynn's lips almost immediately. Fuck, he wants to kiss him. ]
[ Something electric jolts down Flynn's spine. His wings twitch, all feather and alertness. The tips of his fingers press up into Yuri's hair, rubbing idly. ]
I'm dealing with him as we speak, as a matter of fact. Come with me.
Oh, scary. You gonna take me in? [ He breaks the bit with a laugh, a laugh that's basically a giggle, which he would be embarrassed about, but he isn't thinking about it right now.
He goes easily with Flynn, liking the feeling of Flynn's hand in his hair ] No jail here, Mr. Knight.
[ Flynn should be thinking harder about this, probably, but Yuri is pliant and laughing and so warm. He guides him off the log with a steady hand. He can't kiss Yuri here: it's too public, there are too many people, but his blood thrums with the nearness of him, and the night of possibility unspooling around them. ]
Oh, Captain. [ Yuri laughs, and leans into him a little as they walk. His tail keeps brushing Flynn, like he doesn't want to stop touching him, which he doesn't ] That's weird. That's weird, right? You're not a Captain! You're my best friend.
[ Absurd that the simple bend of Yuri's voice around my best friend sends Flynn's stomach fluttering off to some other part of himself, makes him grin stupidly at the ground. One of his wings extends. Feathers brush Yuri's arm, and then Flynn, feeling bold, lets his hand slide from the nape of Yuri's neck to his shoulders, wrapping around him. ]
Hell no. [ Yuri says even as he tucks himself against Flynn's side, his arm going around Flynn's lower back, their bodies pressed together and it feels right. It feels like how they're meant to be, and something settles in him. Why has he been so scared of this? Why hasn't he been able to see that Flynn wants this, that Flynn's happy to be with him, too?
Maybe Flynn does want this as much as he does. He grins at him, his face so close to Flynn's. His wing is mostly shielding them, and Yuri just... leans in. Takes the opportunity, and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. ] I can't be best friends with a Captain. Wouldn't work.
Oh— [ Flynn starts to say, and then Yuri, close and warm, kisses him and everything trails off into a distracted, pleased sort of hum. His eyes flutter a bit even as Yuri pulls away, and his smile, when Yuri continues, is nearly as bright as the halo flaring above his head. ] I see.
What? [ Yuri snorts a laugh and nudges him with his hip. ] No way! It's not, not about that. I'd just be thrown in jail every other day. I can't be buddies with the guys who do that. Come on, you really wanna be like the Tweedles? Like LeBlanc? Nah, man. You're way cooler than they are.
Flynn blinks, his fingers tightening on Yuri's shoulder. Yuri thinks he's cooler than the Schwann Brigade? ]
I... suppose it is rather easy to be cooler than they are.
[ But then, why does that make him feel so warm? Flynn swallows, pushes past it, unsteady with affection. ]
But I—no. I don't want to be like them.
[ A beat. The cool night air settles. Flynn rushes on, hurried and honest in a way he has only ever been to Yuri, words tripping over themselves in their haste to escape the prison of his teeth: ]
[ Yuri glances at him (mistake, mistake, fuck, wait, these feelings are different, this is something he isn't feeling, this is a strange kind of elation, a joy, a discomfort, and he doesn't know how to read that, what to do with it), and then leans in a little closer, narrowing his eyes and holding his gaze ]
You are better than them. They suck. They haven't beaten me, not even once! You beat me every damn time, you're, you're so damn good, Flynn. You're fucking amazing.
[ Flynn can't look away. He's pinned in place by the intensity of Yuri's eyes and the heat in his words, clear and strong, the way he says things that he really believes (Flynn has always loved that voice the most, the voice Yuri gets, deep and full of conviction, when he truly cares about something and lets everyone know it).
He swallows, his wings flaring out and then falling again. ]
Maybe...
[ His voice is soft. Something swells in him, warm, ballooning up until it forces all the air from Flynn's lungs. He swallows, and leans in, and kisses Yuri, slow and sweet, lets it linger, and pulls away tasting marshmallows. ]
Maybe you should keep practicing, then.
[ The words are a taunt but his voice is so soft. ]
[ The kiss has him a little unsteady, leaning in, chasing his lips, before Flynn's words catch up with him and he growls, shoving at Flynn's gut ]
I am practicing, you asshole. I'm going to beat you. I'm going to take you and your, your stupid wings right down! Hell, I don't think you can take the panther.
[ Flynn's laughter is only tempered by the fact that he shoves his way into Yuri's space again, letting his wings flare wide like a threat and then kissing him. ]
[ Well, now he has to prove it. He kisses Flynn again, and in the middle of the kiss, he transforms into a panther, big paws pressing against Flynn's chest, fuzzy muzzle squishing against his face. He shoves at Flynn with a low growl ]
[ It turns out it actually is kind of hard to wrestle with a panther, particularly when you are laughing while you try. Flynn lets himself get rammed, skids back in the grass with the impact, and then wraps both arms around Yuri to give back as good as he gets, laughing himself breathless the whole time.
He's still laughing by the time they come to a panting stop in the grass, side-by-side, with no clear winner. Stars wheel dizzy overhead, and Flynn's wings stretch out wide. ]
[ Yuri's laughing too, staring up at the stars, his legs sticking in the air until he decides to turn back into himself.
He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Flynn. His hair falls down, tickling Flynn's shoulder.
He looks over Flynn, over his face in the darkness, lit by the light of his halo and the stars overhead, the smile on his face, the shape of his body, so familiar now. He's half on one of Flynn's wings, but Flynn doesn't seem to mind. His eyes skate down and land on the mark on Flynn's arm, dark against his skin. He's seen it before, but hasn't said anything. He's been too scared, too concerned, too-- something to say anything. But right now, he's happy and tipsy and he reaches over for Flynn's arm to take a closer look at the mark ]
Not at the touch: in a moment that will register, and his world will drop out from under him. For now, his breath catches at Yuri. The lines of him, his long dark hair, spilling over onto Flynn, casual and easy. The way they're touching, easy like it used to be. For a moment, their 16-year-old-selves hover over the two of them, grinning at each other, bright and easy, connected. Yuri would egg him on even then, bait him into fighting, and Hanks would get so angry but Flynn would always fall for it because fighting with Yuri meant focusing entirely on Yuri and Yuri focusing entirely on him, and back then there was nothing in the world more thrilling than that.
It's thrilling now. Yuri smiles, and Flynn's heart snags on the curve of it, and he stares right back with his halo glinting and his eyes sea-bright with affection, and he thinks I can't believe I get to be this close to him and his hair and he's so—
and then Yuri grabs his arm, and the world drops, and Flynn's stomach drops with it. His breath explodes out from behind his teeth, sharp. He waits, and lets his arm be pulled up, feels the mark burning hot there.
There's a matching one on Yuri's arm, shining away. A sun, for Flynn, to match the moon inked dark into his skin.
[ Yuri hears the intake of breath, harsh in the quiet of night, but he just keeps going, running his thumb over the mark. It's a part of him, like a tattoo, and it's shining gently where Yuri touches him and it really means it, doesn't it? It really means that Flynn is his, and he is Flynn's.
It's strange, really looking at it. Acknowledging it when they've both been ignoring this for weeks now. ]
Do you like it?
[ Maybe that isn't the right question, but it's one he wonders. Does Flynn like the mark? Does he like being Yuri's soulmate? Would he have chosen this? Does he regret it? Does he wish he weren't tied to Yuri like this? Does he wish he didn't have a mark on his skin?
Or does he look at it like Yuri does, and feel a warmth glow through him, an assurance he didn't know he needed or wanted, that he's loved ]
[ Yuri's fingers slide over the mark, and Flynn shivers. Time turns syrup-slow, creeps around them on quiet feet.
A question like the one Yuri asked has a hundred layers. Flynn hears them all, piled on top of one another, tipping precariously on the few syllables they're balanced on.
He looks at Yuri's thumb, pale against dark ink, and then up at his face. For so long he was so afraid of what he would see there if they talked about this: he imagined this conversation going a hundred different ways, and each of them was like pulling teeth, fracturing into pieces every time.
With Yuri actually here in front of him, it's easy. Questions crowd the air between them: do you like it? Does it look good? Do you like what it means? Do you like that I have a matching one? Would you prefer if I didn't? Do you want to stay with me, do you want to make this work, do you want to keep doing whatever it is we're doing, do you want to come home with me, do you like it?
Flynn answers the questions, neatly, all at once. ]
Yes.
[ And then, the harder part. Flynn gathers his courage, finds it readily available, and asks: ]
[ Yuri glances up at him, and this time it doesn't feel like a mistake. He meets Flynn's eyes and smiles, and feels all the things he's feeling reflected back to him. Flynn is worried about the same things? Flynn is wondering the same things? Flynn wants him. He knows Flynn wants him, but he doesn't know how much. He doesn't know how Flynn wants him, or why, but he knows Flynn does, and that knowledge nestles next to his heart ]
Yeah. Never thought of you as much of a tattoo guy, but it looks good.
[ It looks good because it's Yuri's, and Yuri feels some kind of way about being marked on Flynn's skin. It's like being too exposed, perceived, but also proud and courageous and excited and all sorts of things that make his smile soften as he thumbs over Flynn's mark again. ]
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Oh man, he's gonna get me again, isn't he?
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[ For a bare second Flynn is tempted to swing his legs across Yuri's lap, press himself close, but—this is a public place, and there are other people around, and so he only presses himself closer, letting his fingers trail over the nape of Yuri's neck under his hair. ]
I have a plan.
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He glances back at Flynn with a smile, his eyes dropping to Flynn's lips almost immediately. Fuck, he wants to kiss him. ]
Oh, yeah? You gonna deal with the guy?
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I'm dealing with him as we speak, as a matter of fact. Come with me.
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He goes easily with Flynn, liking the feeling of Flynn's hand in his hair ] No jail here, Mr. Knight.
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That's Captain to you.
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I can't be both a captain and your best friend?
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Maybe Flynn does want this as much as he does. He grins at him, his face so close to Flynn's. His wing is mostly shielding them, and Yuri just... leans in. Takes the opportunity, and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. ] I can't be best friends with a Captain. Wouldn't work.
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[ Affection, heady and bright, soaks his words. ]
It would be bad for your image.
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Flynn blinks, his fingers tightening on Yuri's shoulder. Yuri thinks he's cooler than the Schwann Brigade? ]
I... suppose it is rather easy to be cooler than they are.
[ But then, why does that make him feel so warm? Flynn swallows, pushes past it, unsteady with affection. ]
But I—no. I don't want to be like them.
[ A beat. The cool night air settles. Flynn rushes on, hurried and honest in a way he has only ever been to Yuri, words tripping over themselves in their haste to escape the prison of his teeth: ]
I want to be better than them.
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You are better than them. They suck. They haven't beaten me, not even once! You beat me every damn time, you're, you're so damn good, Flynn. You're fucking amazing.
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He swallows, his wings flaring out and then falling again. ]
Maybe...
[ His voice is soft. Something swells in him, warm, ballooning up until it forces all the air from Flynn's lungs. He swallows, and leans in, and kisses Yuri, slow and sweet, lets it linger, and pulls away tasting marshmallows. ]
Maybe you should keep practicing, then.
[ The words are a taunt but his voice is so soft. ]
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I am practicing, you asshole. I'm going to beat you. I'm going to take you and your, your stupid wings right down! Hell, I don't think you can take the panther.
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[ Flynn's laughter is only tempered by the fact that he shoves his way into Yuri's space again, letting his wings flare wide like a threat and then kissing him. ]
I can take the panther.
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Prove it.
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bodycheck the panther.
It's the only possible move. ]
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As soon as he hits the ground, he's back at it, rushing toward Flynn, attempting to bowl him over with big paws on his chest ]
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He's still laughing by the time they come to a panting stop in the grass, side-by-side, with no clear winner. Stars wheel dizzy overhead, and Flynn's wings stretch out wide. ]
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He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Flynn. His hair falls down, tickling Flynn's shoulder.
He looks over Flynn, over his face in the darkness, lit by the light of his halo and the stars overhead, the smile on his face, the shape of his body, so familiar now. He's half on one of Flynn's wings, but Flynn doesn't seem to mind. His eyes skate down and land on the mark on Flynn's arm, dark against his skin. He's seen it before, but hasn't said anything. He's been too scared, too concerned, too-- something to say anything. But right now, he's happy and tipsy and he reaches over for Flynn's arm to take a closer look at the mark ]
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Not at the touch: in a moment that will register, and his world will drop out from under him. For now, his breath catches at Yuri. The lines of him, his long dark hair, spilling over onto Flynn, casual and easy. The way they're touching, easy like it used to be. For a moment, their 16-year-old-selves hover over the two of them, grinning at each other, bright and easy, connected. Yuri would egg him on even then, bait him into fighting, and Hanks would get so angry but Flynn would always fall for it because fighting with Yuri meant focusing entirely on Yuri and Yuri focusing entirely on him, and back then there was nothing in the world more thrilling than that.
It's thrilling now. Yuri smiles, and Flynn's heart snags on the curve of it, and he stares right back with his halo glinting and his eyes sea-bright with affection, and he thinks I can't believe I get to be this close to him and his hair and he's so—
and then Yuri grabs his arm, and the world drops, and Flynn's stomach drops with it. His breath explodes out from behind his teeth, sharp. He waits, and lets his arm be pulled up, feels the mark burning hot there.
There's a matching one on Yuri's arm, shining away. A sun, for Flynn, to match the moon inked dark into his skin.
I was so scared, Dirk had said. ]
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It's strange, really looking at it. Acknowledging it when they've both been ignoring this for weeks now. ]
Do you like it?
[ Maybe that isn't the right question, but it's one he wonders. Does Flynn like the mark? Does he like being Yuri's soulmate? Would he have chosen this? Does he regret it? Does he wish he weren't tied to Yuri like this? Does he wish he didn't have a mark on his skin?
Or does he look at it like Yuri does, and feel a warmth glow through him, an assurance he didn't know he needed or wanted, that he's loved ]
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A question like the one Yuri asked has a hundred layers. Flynn hears them all, piled on top of one another, tipping precariously on the few syllables they're balanced on.
He looks at Yuri's thumb, pale against dark ink, and then up at his face. For so long he was so afraid of what he would see there if they talked about this: he imagined this conversation going a hundred different ways, and each of them was like pulling teeth, fracturing into pieces every time.
With Yuri actually here in front of him, it's easy. Questions crowd the air between them: do you like it? Does it look good? Do you like what it means? Do you like that I have a matching one? Would you prefer if I didn't? Do you want to stay with me, do you want to make this work, do you want to keep doing whatever it is we're doing, do you want to come home with me, do you like it?
Flynn answers the questions, neatly, all at once. ]
Yes.
[ And then, the harder part. Flynn gathers his courage, finds it readily available, and asks: ]
Do you?
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Yeah. Never thought of you as much of a tattoo guy, but it looks good.
[ It looks good because it's Yuri's, and Yuri feels some kind of way about being marked on Flynn's skin. It's like being too exposed, perceived, but also proud and courageous and excited and all sorts of things that make his smile soften as he thumbs over Flynn's mark again. ]
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