drabble requests (5)

[reaver]

Completed requests from this post so far.

edge/faize, why the long face.

part of being a good captain is discovering the individual strengths, weaknesses, and habits of your crew; or at least that's what crowe says, and edge takes it to heart when he accepts the role on the calnus. he notices quickly that faize often looks after himself, or spends time alone–which makes sense, in a way, considering reimi focuses most of her attention on him alone, and while edge can see lymle's kind heart, all faize has felt is the bite of her words; it inflicts more damage than the jaws of cerberus. while edge has full confidence that they will work out their differences and realize the kindness both bear under their skin, he's also observed faize acting more distant than usual and knows he needs a warm, friendly hand regardless of how sure it may be. he's been training more than usual, and as common as it may be for him to better himself in private, edge is beginning to question the physical toll faize's excessive practice is causing him when he's visibly sluggish in a battle.

he invites himself in to their room–a common practice anymore, there's no need for locked doors or walls between them. "hey, faize?"

"edge," faize calls in response. "you sound concerned."

"i am," edge starts wearily, "i just want to...well, i... faize. if there's anything going on, i want you to know that you can come to me about it. always. i'll do anything i can to help someone so important to me."

faize can't help the widening of his eyes at this; as if he didn't know he meant a lot to edge already, but edge is so forward with things like this. it's admirable, commendable–he could likely go on forever, but a simple show of gratitude will suffice. "i appreciate your concern, however i assure you that i'm fine. please don't fret for my sake."

edge is silent a moment, apparently mulling things over, but his impulse to take care of faize takes over before he can logically formulate a plan. "but you aren't fine. you aren't, faize. i can tell something is up, and i don't want... i don't want anything to happen to you."

"i am in your reliable hands," faize answers as the surprises keep coming. he thought he was hiding things well, but of course edge picked up on them. he truly is remarkable.

the captain of the calnus doesn't accept this, at least not yet. he doesn't think he can bear seeing faize with a long face much longer; while he still cares deeply for this faize, he misses the boyish excitement they shared at the thought of space exploration, the late night chats about anything in particular, learning; these things feel like a book tucked away on a shelf, and edge wants to read his favorite book again.

"you know," edge is visibly unsure at his words, on his standing, "you're really strong, faize. you don't have to keep hiding in the storage room to become better, because you're perfect just the way you are."

faize genuinely smiles and seems to brighten up at the compliment, although he's still unsteady. "i'm flattered, but–"

"no buts about it," edge retorts as he takes a seat next to faize on his bed; hopefully he's not being too intrusive. "why don't you let me catch up to you this time?"

faize relaxes as he lets out a barely audible sigh. "with all due respect, i believe the only thing i have you beaten in is exhaustion."

"i'll take it," edge says with a smile, and feels his muscles slightly tense as faize leans over to rest on him. this is pleasant, moreso than anything he's ever done with a girl, or with anyone, really–he wants to be close to faize, wants to understand the parts of him that no one else can reach, wants to steady his hand and hold the most delicate pieces carefully to make sure they never break. edge doesn't fully understand his feelings but has never believed in reasoning through an emotional surge like this, so instead he chooses to ride it out and see where things go as he rests his head against faize's and closes his eyes.

faize is lulled to sleep by the sound of a steady heartbeat, and he dreams of a bright future with edge. they're running together through a habitable planet they found together, both wearing crisp, new uniforms to celebrate their achievements and boundless smiles to celebrate what unifies their hearts. their eyes focus together on the same goal, and as long as they travel the same path and watch the same sky, regardless of what obstacles they may encounter, faize knows edge will find a way to overcome them.

edge/faize, reimi's pov.

i think i figured out something was wrong when edge told faize the story about his father. we've known each other as long as i remember, and he confided a lot in me, but i'd never heard anything like that. at the time i wondered if he didn't trust me, but i should have known better. my feelings were mixed when edge asked faize to room with him; i wanted to even though i would've refused had he asked, it would have been... nice. he doesn't ask me things the way he used to anymore, and i've caught edge watching faize the way crowe used to tease me about watching him.

it was hard, really hard, at first. we were supposed to get married, we talked about that kind of stuff all the time, being together... it was supposed to be our dream, our hope. it was edge that made me more comfortable with these abilities, something i thought was a curse, a burden, it felt so warm radiating from edge, and i wanted that warmth for myself. i still don't know why he chose to give it to faize instead. they would sit awake talking the way we used to, about everything and anything, and i watched them sometimes–weird, i know, but i missed my edge. i thought he would come back, that this would be just a phase and things would go back to how they used to be.

when faize left to follow crowe, edge returned to me but he wasn't the same. it was like faize took edge's warmth with him, wrapped in that dark scarf, forbidden for anyone else to see. i tried to cheer him up, to make him believe, and i even kissed him once. he talked to me about it later that night, after we found out what happened to faize; he told me he was just trying to make me feel better, to make himself feel better, that he didn't... it was one of the hardest things i've heard. i wanted so desperately for him to love me, i've seen him as mine since we were children, but while he still wants me in his life, he doesn't want me at his side. even with faize gone, that place was for faize alone.

everything that happened as nox obscurus began to collapse is a blur for me; i remember parts of it, smells, a few sights, and just feeling overwhelmed. faize was okay, which made me happy but slightly resentful, and when i realized edge was going to stay behind with him that's when it really sunk in that he was out of my reach. even with what i had done, what we'd shared, faize was the one he wanted, and he wasn't going to leave him behind no matter what. i wanted to go to him, to talk him out of it, pull him away by force if i had to because i couldn't stand losing him, but someone wouldn't let me go; i had to watch as edge supported faize until they both fell.

when edge walked through the doors of en ii later, the feelings and resentment bubbled up inside until i slapped him–how could he do this to me? faize was gone, but i was still here, why didn't he come back to me? what did he think he was doing? he looked defeated at first, but when he explained his feelings about unnatural evolution, how he wanted to stop it all for faize, that's when the light came back in his eyes. it was the last time i saw it for nearly a year until edge wanted to visit lymle. i stood by him, and he did his best to appreciate it although it became clearer day by day that this wasn't the future, the life he wanted, no matter how much i tried to persuade him. would i accept a false life with him, a false happiness? some days i felt like i wanted it, that i would take what i could get, but others i knew it was wrong.

edge wanted to visit lymle after a mission where we found a symbol she might know about, and that's when it all changed. i spent so much time watching edge look like something was missing, and now it's my turn to watch the old edge, the full, whole one–with faize at his side. i'm not angry anymore, honestly. sometimes i'm still confused, wondering what i did wrong, if i did anything wrong–but what matters to me is that edge is happy, that faize is happy after everything he's been through, that it's all going to be all right. for all of us.

crowe/arumat, crowe catches arumat masturbating.

there is one thing arumat does not do in the shower. spy. whatever a casual onlooker may think he's doing he most certainly is not checking anyone out, death incarnate has no inclination to observe anyone in the shower, or something along those lines. but really, what does he think he's doing–crowe's practically asking for it, strutting around shamelessly like that, anyway–whether he's asking for it is irrelevant because arumat is not staring by any means. of course not.

crowe has developed an unfortunate habit of awakening things in arumat that he previously believed to be dormant or nonexistent altogether, and this is no different. first, he unknowingly persuaded arumat to feel, which was uncomfortable enough, but unconsciously waking up his libido is another matter entirely. any kind of sexual satisfaction has taken a backseat because walking corpses don't need that kind of thing. matter of fact, they don't need it so much that it's completely okay for them to spy on their superior officer in the shower. there is absolutely no blood rushing to places that probably would be covered in cobwebs if he didn't shower daily, it's not uncomfortable or embarrassing, and he doesn't feel a persistent urge to do something to take care of it.

this is why arumat skulks back to his room, locks the door and after thinking things over for a moment longer, unfastens and drops his pants. he has absolutely no clue what he's supposed to do about this and considers just leaving it alone again. what goes up on it's own will surely follow suit eventually. but when he recalls the vivid memory of crowe that put him in this predicament to begin with, he makes the decision to follow the captain's advice and try new things. even so, he's not going to do this without his scythe in reaching distance on the off chance someone catches him in the act–it's unlikely, but just in case–there can be no witnesses.

he starts too rough, realizing quickly that it may be better to do this with some form of lubrication. of course, death himself has no need for lubricant or lotion for that matter, and the majority of the crew doesn't have any either. matter of fact, there's only one person likely to have it, and that just happens to be the one person he really does not want to encounter right now. arumat pulls up and refastens his pants, although he leaves a belt undone because there's no point and he wants to make this as quick and stealthy as possible. he hears the shower still running and assumes it's safe to make a break for crowe's lotion which he conveniently left out on a table next to his bed. as arumat's sneaking back to his room looking totally non-conspicuous his mind wanders to why crowe even had the bottle by his bed in the first place and it doesn't slip past him that his pants are getting even tighter.

in his distracted state he doesn't notice a pair of amused eyes watching him sneaking in with a raging hard on to steal lotion.

the lotion helps, and arumat's managing to get something going after all–it's still unpleasant just for the reason that he likes it, and even more so because he's doing it thinking about things he would like even more. his heart is beginning to race, and his breathing has become fast and shallow in response to the stimulation. the feeling escalates to the point he doesn't think he can stop or continue doing it for much longer, his other senses have dulled and his guard is down.

"you know, you could've just asked me to take care of that for you."

arumat completely freezes at the voice from the doorway, emotions cascading through him that he can't entirely place and doesn't want to. all he knows is that he's humiliated and he is not going to get away with this. he turns to face the personal space invader with the most malicious stare he can muster up.

crowe's leaning against the closed door with one hip resting casually on the frame with a wry and mischievous grin on his face. he crosses his arms when arumat turns to stare him down and doesn't even bother to attempt to hide that he's checking him out.

"how did you get in here?" arumat finally manages to speak, even though he's too stunned to pull his pants up and his head is spinning.

"i have a key card."

"get out."

"absolutely not. you're in here jacking off with my lotion and hissing my name, there's no way in hell i'm leaving."

"no way in hell? how convenient, because that's where you're going. i did no such thing."

"don't lie, arumat. i saw you watching in the shower earlier. seriously, you could've just asked if you wanted to."

arumat knows he's found out and there's not even a point in denying things anymore–and remembers that his pants are down–so he redresses himself only to sit down and scowl in crowe's general direction, which unsurprisingly doesn't sit well with the man in the doorway.

"i was enjoying the show," crowe complains as he invites himself in even farther and approaches arumat. "just relax."

predictably, arumat does the exact opposite and his entire body tenses up as crowe slides his hands up arumat's thighs, then tugs his pants back down to his ankles. he's still glaring when crowe wraps a hand around his cock, but arumat can tell that he's better at this than he is–crowe seems to know how to find every sensitive spot on him within seconds, and is there anything he's not good at, this is just getting ridiculous–so he allows himself to succumb to the gentler, more attentive strokes. this feels remarkably better, and he starts to subconsciously thrust his hips up, silently demanding more. the tension continues to build in arumat's body until he can't take anymore and comes with a strangled moan he tries to smother.

crowe leans over him, visibly self-satisfied. "next time you watch me in the shower," he says with a definite husk to his voice, "invite yourself in."

crowe/arumat, arumat can't cook.

the only reason arumat engages in something quite this foolish is because there's no one else to do it. crowe's always hid when he's exhausted well, and for all of his complaining about adjutants who abuse their rank to not do their part, he keeps his end of the bargain; always the first one in, the last one out, and the last one to sleep. the barely visible dark circles under crowe's eyes and tension in his shoulders are bothering him–and of course, no one else is paying attention because that's the way crowe wants it. he makes up for his exhaustion by increasing the flamboyant theatrics, and it's apparently difficult to notice someone's mental and physical state when they're entertaining you. arumat knows how crowe overcompensates for his fatigue by now. when you spend years with one foot in the shadows observing the center of attention you tend to pick things up.

since there's no one else aware of the situation and something has to be done, arumat takes it upon himself to do what he can. it's still somewhat awkward for him to feel like this–it's better, has become more of a blessing than a curse with time, and death has long been crossed off of his priority list, but adding consolation and emotional assistance have been particularly difficult; thankfully, crowe doesn't need much. he lies awake in the morning, feeling crowe's quiet breath on his shoulder, before he comes up with an idea. slipping away isn't difficult–crowe could barely keep his eyes open last night and he's sleeping like a log. that's the easy part. a simple thoughtful gesture should be more than enough, and judging by how ravenous crowe's been, breakfast should suffice.

unfortunately, arumat has absolutely no idea how to cook. recipes are scattered all over the place–mostly meracle's favorite foods, since she gets so enthusiastic when you cook them (and arumat still thinks it's a bad idea to make her anything with an excessive amount of sugar, he never wants to deal with that again). following directions is easy enough, and when he finds the recipe for what he wants, he carefully measures the ingredients and begins the process. lamentably, the recipe doesn't include things that should be common sense. after he torches three batches of pancakes beyond recognition arumat loses his temper and kicks the stove as hard as he can–a noise that apparently wakes up his partner. crowe charges in minutes later.

"what's burning in here?" he asks, waving the smell away and making a disgruntled face for emphasis. one look at arumat covered in pancake batter and a pile of what resembles charred rocks tells him all he needs to know–arumat isn't the only one who has picked things up over the years.

"nothing. go back to bed."

"don't be like that," crowe complains as he walks toward the stove, "let me help you clean this up."

arumat experiences a particularly unpleasant emotional surge at this–of course he made another mess, and crowe's the one cleaning things up, what else is new. doing pleasant things hasn't been his strong suit, only destruction, and he's successfully destroyed the kitchen. the frustration and embarrassment at not only failing miserably at cooking but being caught in the act has him more snippy than usual, and he doesn't bother to combat the familiar thought pattern. crowe's throwing things in the garbage and washing the dishes because clutter has always bothered him–it's never fazed arumat, probably because of his own internal chaos–and arumat stands back to watch because he assumes he would just be a hindrance at this point.

once crowe finishes, he puts the pan arumat was using back on the stove, checks the heat setting and starts going back through the ingredients. "you shouldn't cook everything on high heat. don't sweat it, i made the same mistake when i started cooking for myself because i was too impatient to wait for it to cook normally. needless to say i got used to eating burnt food."

arumat says nothing as he moves to watch over crowe's shoulder; this might come in handy one day, if he ever gets a foolish idea like this in his head. he's always been full of them when it comes to crowe, although this one might be the new reigning champion. crowe makes idle chatter, trying to work his theatric magic on someone who knows better as he continues cooking and ends up with something actually resembling a batch of pancakes. pancakes alone aren't enough to satiate the overachiever, so he cooks some bacon to go with them and while he's timing it, pulls out two plates and sets the table.

"i was..." arumat starts, still unwilling to explain what was going on despite his beginning.

"i know," crowe assures. "it's the thought that counts, and i appreciate it. am i that bad?"

"you are."

crowe laughs half-heartedly at this, because he expected no more–arumat's never minced words, especially when it comes to his concern. "well, thank you."

"thank me by taking some time to relax."

"only if you go with me," crowe teases as he starts to show off. it turns out to be more embarrassing than anything, because his showboating ends with a piece of bacon on the front of his shirt. arumat can't help but smile and reach over to pull it off as crowe looks a bit sheepish. "remember that time you asked me if i was good at everything? now you know."

edge/faize, every member of the calnus walks in on edge and faize at some point.

the calnus is a deceptively large ship, although you wouldn't believe it if you were trying to get some privacy. meracle walks in on edge and faize's first kiss and wants one too, which admittedly isn't all that awkward until she walks in on them during a far more passionate moment and ends up telling sarah about their night wrestling. the featherfolk is intrigued, and walks in at an equally awkward time that results in both edge and faize listening to her explain how she's never read about two men being in love while she was in her tower, but considers it to be a very beautiful thing–edge feigns being flattered better than faize does, he just looks humiliated. edge doesn't understand why reimi's so mad when she walks in on them cuddling and despite his insistence he's fine, faize is up almost instantly to rub a healing salve on the hand-shaped mark on his face. bacchus comments of a growing heat between them, which isn't all that uncommon for him in itself, but edge feels like his face is on fire as the cyborg offers more details on what he knows of their coupling. lymle doesn't understand, which both edge and faize agree is for the best, but makes them promise to set aside some time for her later because she's tired and wants to take a nap.

after nappy time with lymle sandwiched between them, edge finds faize in one of the storage rooms and decides that maybe it's a good place to get some privacy–after all, arumat spends a lot of time there, and his primary goal on the ship is to be alone. unfortunately, arumat decides it's a good time to be alone as edge has faize's pants halfway off and they both end up under a box. the second time arumat walks in on them is even worse, because although neither edge or faize assume he's a gossip monger, he does pass the information to a third party who shows up with packages of condoms to congratulate a shrieking, fleeing edge on becoming a man.

unfortunately the new, temporary crew member is more nosy than the rest of the calnus put together save maybe reimi, and the first time he actually walks in makes whooping noises and encourages them to, "get it," whatever that means. it takes two days for edge to ban crowe from the calnus.

edge gives an order to the crew to meet in the dining hall minus faize, who he finally thinks he can get alone, when sarah walks in for the third time because she lost her glasses; faize reassures edge shakily that at least she can't see what they're doing, but sarah politely reminds them that she doesn't have to see, she can tell they're expressing their feelings for each other. faize resolves to never speak of it again.

they go to the men's bathroom, expecting to possibly get some privacy there only to find bacchus seated on the toilet with his stealth setting on. a deep voice saying pardon me, mr. edge, mr. faize is enough to not only kill the mood, but bury it for the rest of the day. that doesn't deter crowe from sending multiple transmissions telling his little brother how proud he is and that he wants to come visit soon, effectively ignoring that edge banned him for life. he never listens.

faize is beginning to give up, since it seems like timing isn't on their side and every attempt to be together has been interrupted by one coincidence or another when upon surveying the area, it seems like the ship is empty. he reports to edge as quickly as his legs will carry him, and although it's more than typically awkward for their first time considering they're both paranoid and just waiting for someone to make their presence known–for once, no one does. faize is resting his head in the crook of edge's shoulder, sated, when they hear footsteps outside their room for the first time. lymle invites herself in without knocking; what else is new.

"edgie, faize. i don't really know what's going on, but i thought you needed some alone time, kay? everyone's back now." she doesn't stay for long, leaving before they can express their gratitude.

"she may be simple minded, but i do certainly appreciate this," faize mumbles, his body flirting with sleep.

"yeah," edge says, lazily tracing a circle on faize's stomach. "this was... nice."

"it was," faize agrees, leaning in closer.

edge ignores the beeping of his transmission device, knowing it's crowe calling with something childish and lewd again, and closes his eyes–he hopes lymle will let cerberus out again in the near future.