|Mr. 288 (eider) wrote in areyougame,|
@ 2008-07-03 14:48:00
|Entry tags:||*suikoden i, author: eider|
At Battle's End, Suikoden 1 (Viktor/Flik)
Title: At Battle's End
Warnings: Shortfic, more smarmy than sexy.
Word count: 580.
Summary: In which the Star Dragon Sword acquires blackmail material.
A/N: Prompt was Suikoden 1, Viktor/Flik: battlefield sex - emotions and tensions run high after surviving the battles of Gregminster that ensured Tir's escape. If possible from POV of Star Dragon Sword. And I just couldn't pass up the chance! Maybe next time I'll manage an R rating, though.
"We're almost there, so just hang on."
"I cannot abide this stench. Take a moment to clean my blade."
"HA--that'll leave a mark! That should be the last of them!"
"Ugh, must you?"
"Once we cross the river, we're in the clear."
"A river! Excellent. I might have mentioned I was filthy, especially after that last--"
"I'm not talking to you."
"You will clean me, mortal."
Viktor and the Star Dragon Sword clutched in his hand were both startled into silence at this last; Flik had not been a participant in this conversation for the last ten minutes--or the past twenty-two opponents.
"Viktor," Flik said again, more decisively. "I'm going to pass out."
Viktor, bloodied and muddied but still aiming for cheerful, shook his head. "C'mon Flik, don't do that, how am I going to carry both of--"
Down he went, less Blue Lightning and more... Blue Puddle.
The sword made a sound suspiciously like a derisive laugh, and Viktor drove it point down into the riverbank. "Can it. Nobody asked you, Sharpie."
At least he'd waited until the river, Viktor thought; at least we made it out. At least-- at least that's only one arrowhead sticking him like a pincushion-- Oh, God.
"You're really going to tend to him first, aren't you." The sword's sarcasm wasn't quite as sharp as his blade, but only because he'd spent hundreds of years on the latter and only the last few months on the former.
"You're not in any danger of bleeding to death," Viktor said, under his breath.
"'M fine," Flik said abruptly, sounding decidedly less so. He didn’t protest as Viktor hauled him upright; didn't flinch as he pulled the arrowhead free of broken skin. If anything, he looked pleasantly dazed. "Just a little dizzy. Viktor, stand still, will you?"
Viktor, who wasn't moving at all, winced. "Hush, now," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for coming from such a barrel of a chest. He pushed the hair back from Flik's forehead, fingers lingering on his feverish skin. Against his better judgment, he pressed a kiss to his temple. "You're safe."
Flik made a soft, contented noise in the back of his throat, and lost consciousness again.
It took a heartbeat for Viktor to remember he was being watched.
"You," he said, ominously, advancing on the Star Dragon Sword.
If ever a hand-and-a-half blade lying in the mud could look coy, this one did. "Touching performance."
"Not a word," Viktor said. "Not one word."
"Surely your reputation has little left to tarnish, even for a mortal."
The mortal in question was shaking his head. "It's not about me. If Flik finds out... he'll kill me."
"But what have I to fear? Ha, steel and fire are not sufficient to stop me; I am the Night, I am forged of metals such that the world has not yet seen--"
Viktor ground his bootheel into its hilt. It may have been that the moment of resulting silence was purely indignation, but Viktor pressed his advantage. "If you breathe a word of this to him, so help me, I will make you sorry for it."
The Star Dragon Sword glowed softly in the rivermud, but made no further protest.
Viktor was too busy ripping up his tunic for bandages to consider that perhaps, his oath had been poorly worded, and the sword at that moment was considering just to whom he should impart this newly-acquired bit of information.