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. ]
It hits him, and oddly, it makes him smile. Flynn was so worried about being too deep in this, that Yuri would take one look at the mark on his arm (the mark he has probably known about for weeks now) and say something like that's annoying or guess I really am stuck with you and Flynn would be left to puzzle through that.
But of course he wouldn't. Yuri is careless and impulsive but he's gentle where it counts, and he wouldn't say anything like that. Not to Flynn's face.
He isn't feeling it, either.
Carefully, Flynn lifts his forearm, an offering. ]
[ The smile grows on Yuri's face, and he lifts his arm in turn, tapping it to Flynn's. The gentle glow of their marks surges bright in the darkness, and the worry that's at the back of his mind seems to evaporate, a swell of love and acceptance and peace dropping over them like a warm blanket. Yuri isn't sure if he's ever felt like this before. It's almost uncomfortable, to feel comfortable like this, to be almost forced to accept that Flynn is in this, too, that Flynn wants this, too.
A part of him still can't accept it, even with the marks glowing on their arms, even with the connection between their eyes, even with sleeping together every night, the soft kisses, the gentle words, the way Flynn looks at him. Even with all of that, it seems absurd that Yuri might actually get to have this. That he might get to be with Flynn, even for a little while.
The glow fades, and Yuri watches Flynn, smile forgotten now ]
He gets lost in the tide of it, tossed along in the swell of affection and warmth, the bone-deep knowledge he was sure he'd never feel again (we're in this together, he wants me here). That same twisted warm tangle of feelings wraps around the two of them, and Flynn knows that he isn't alone in it, and he has no idea what to do with it. When was the last time he was sure of something that Yuri was feeling? Before the cold anger, before the fights and before they snapped at each other, before Yuri needled him every chance he got.
When they were still a united force, the two of them against the world.
Flynn missed it so much.
He can't put any of it into words: it's still too big to break down into something like sound, and so instead, as the light fades and his breath comes back to him, Flynn leans over on his own wing and a little bit on Yuri's hair and kisses him. ]
[ Kissing, at least, it easy. Flynn can kiss him and Yuri can lean into it and make a soft sound and something flutters in his stomach because even after two weeks of this... yeah. It still feels good, it feels amazing, especially here, outside of Flynn's room. Being in public, even alone outside, still feels different. He wondered if it would be a secret, something they shared together in the dark or a locked room and nowhere else, but Flynn keeps pushing that, and Yuri is happy to go along with it.
He smiles against Flynn's lips, awash in everything, feeling so good in a way he can't remember feeling in ages, in years. It's like something in him was pressing down on him, on his feelings, feeling him down and struggling to want to do anything. Those feelings started to ebb when he left Zaphias with Estelle, but they were still there, especially when he thought about what he was going to do to Ragou-- but now, it feels like that was a different life, like he was a different person, because right now he doesn't feel any of that. He feels free and he feels happy and he has Flynn against him and Flynn is holding him, kissing him, Flynn likes his soulmate mark, Flynn wants to be with him, Flynn makes him so, so happy in a way he'd forgotten he could be ]
[ It would be easiest to kiss him again. It would be easiest to bask in this feeling, in this quiet, secret, comfortable warmth, a bubble back in place between them and the world outside, and Flynn finally inside it with Yuri.
He could lean over and kiss him again but questions are beating on the insides of his ribs and so through the glow, he says, soft, with his hand on Yuri's hip (when did it get there?), ]
I asked. To make sure it was really... I didn't want to be wrong about what it was.
Asked... about the mark? [ Yuri's mind takes a second to catch up, still focused on the kiss. He glances at Flynn, feels nerves there, and looks away ] You, what did you think it was?
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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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[ Yuri's worried, too.
It hits him, and oddly, it makes him smile. Flynn was so worried about being too deep in this, that Yuri would take one look at the mark on his arm (the mark he has probably known about for weeks now) and say something like that's annoying or guess I really am stuck with you and Flynn would be left to puzzle through that.
But of course he wouldn't. Yuri is careless and impulsive but he's gentle where it counts, and he wouldn't say anything like that. Not to Flynn's face.
He isn't feeling it, either.
Carefully, Flynn lifts his forearm, an offering. ]
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A part of him still can't accept it, even with the marks glowing on their arms, even with the connection between their eyes, even with sleeping together every night, the soft kisses, the gentle words, the way Flynn looks at him. Even with all of that, it seems absurd that Yuri might actually get to have this. That he might get to be with Flynn, even for a little while.
The glow fades, and Yuri watches Flynn, smile forgotten now ]
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He gets lost in the tide of it, tossed along in the swell of affection and warmth, the bone-deep knowledge he was sure he'd never feel again (we're in this together, he wants me here). That same twisted warm tangle of feelings wraps around the two of them, and Flynn knows that he isn't alone in it, and he has no idea what to do with it. When was the last time he was sure of something that Yuri was feeling? Before the cold anger, before the fights and before they snapped at each other, before Yuri needled him every chance he got.
When they were still a united force, the two of them against the world.
Flynn missed it so much.
He can't put any of it into words: it's still too big to break down into something like sound, and so instead, as the light fades and his breath comes back to him, Flynn leans over on his own wing and a little bit on Yuri's hair and kisses him. ]
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He smiles against Flynn's lips, awash in everything, feeling so good in a way he can't remember feeling in ages, in years. It's like something in him was pressing down on him, on his feelings, feeling him down and struggling to want to do anything. Those feelings started to ebb when he left Zaphias with Estelle, but they were still there, especially when he thought about what he was going to do to Ragou-- but now, it feels like that was a different life, like he was a different person, because right now he doesn't feel any of that. He feels free and he feels happy and he has Flynn against him and Flynn is holding him, kissing him, Flynn likes his soulmate mark, Flynn wants to be with him, Flynn makes him so, so happy in a way he'd forgotten he could be ]
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He could lean over and kiss him again but questions are beating on the insides of his ribs and so through the glow, he says, soft, with his hand on Yuri's hip (when did it get there?), ]
I asked. To make sure it was really... I didn't want to be wrong about what it was.
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