fic: Vacation
Dec. 4th, 2010 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Vacation
Series: FE9/10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren, ensemble.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1772 words
Summary: Soren is dragged on a vacation to Toha.
Author's note: This isn't my fic. I'm hosting it for someone who will remain anonymous, because I kept on that the public needs this, and finally the person had me post in here for 'em. Please steer all your comments towards them!
Port Toha really wasn't a bad place for a vacation, Ike thought to himself idly, sipping a fruit drink through a straw. At first he was apprehensive towards the prospect of being in Toha again, but he trusted reports, and it appeared that the townspeople honestly had learned from their mistakes – although he was sure Soren would protest that statement – and began to lean towards tolerance. But politics wasn't Ike's concern. After the war, he decided that they deserved a vacation, and with Mist excitable as ever, they had gone traveling – for personal pleasure, not to save the world.
Across the table, Soren looked as irritable as ever, recounting some unfortunate business along the way. “We lost the records,” he was saying. “It'll take months to make that up – Ike, are you listening?”
“Try some,” Ike offered, nudging the glass of fruit smoothie towards him, and Soren gave it an incinerating look, as if he hated all fruit drinks for snatching Ike's attention.
“No thank you,” he said, in his I'd-rather-eat-shit voice. Normally, Ike figured, Soren wouldn't have bothered with etiquette at all, so it must've been a privilege to hear the words “thank you” in any context.
“Relax, Soren,” Ike said, taking back his drink and taking a long slurp. “It's sunny, the air is fresh, and the view is beautiful.” Soren crossed his arms and turned his head to the side, which Ike took to mean that he was spared a cynical rant on account of being Ike. “You did agree to this.”
“That was --” Soren cut himself off and looked extremely embarrassed. “Ike, that was after considerable persuasion.”
Ike shrugged, giving a gesture towards the inn. “Come on, Soren, like I couldn't persuade you again?” He spun the straw around in the cup, giving a cheeky grin as Soren shot him murderous looks.
“Fine, give me that,“ he shot back, seizing Ike's glass of fruit smoothie and taking a large gulp without the aid of the fancy straw. Ike watched with some amazement (and disappointment, as he had rather liked that drink) as the entire thing disappeared down Soren's throat. The mage sat the glass back on the table with a loud clank, as if proving a point.
“Hunh,” Ike commented, his own way of acknowledging this feat.
Soren took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, as if it was too appalling to lick off his lips. Still casting a glare at Ike, he said, “It's too sweet, and it has an inappropriately foreign flavor.”
“If it were less sweet,” Ike pointed out, “you'd say it was too sour.” Soren scowled at him, continuing to glare at the cup.
“This is a pointless trip,” he denounced, and walked back towards the inn.
---
When Ike entered the hotel, it was to pull his shirt off and fling it over a bedpost. Soren gave him a quizzical look. “Mist got everyone wet,” he explained, shaking out his hair. “You'd think she never saw an ocean before.”
“Not under relaxed circumstances, no.” Soren's eyes proceeded to follow shirtless Ike on his quest to find where his spare clothes were. Although amused, he said, “In the bundle in the closet.”
“Ah. Thanks.” Ike rummaged through a bag before pulling out a shirt. “So, I take it you're in a better mood?”
“Comparatively.” As if repulsed by saying anything positive, he added, “Toha is still irking. It's a terrible place for a 'vacation'.”
“Soren,” Ike said with a sigh, “you're not even trying to enjoy yourself.”
“Should I?”
“Yes. Lighten up. They're playing some kind of game with sea shells. Let's go look at that.”
“If enjoying time here requires great effort, I'll pass.”
“At this rate, you're never going to have fun.” Soren raised an eyebrow at that, perhaps out of apathy. “What objections do you have to this, anyway?”
“The people. The atmosphere. The sand. The air.” He paused. “Ike, you smell like fish and salt.” Soren stared up at Ike, who stood directly next to him with arms akimbo.
“You're going to like fish and salt,” he said pointedly, before leaning down for a kiss.
Soren lightly shoved his face away. “That's a dirty trick.”
“Soren –”
“I'm not coming out to play your asinine seashell games.”
“Stop being such a child –”
“I'm not being childish,” he said, before realizing that his statement came off as just that. They stared at each other for a bit before Soren finally asked, hesitantly, “What?” And suddenly, Ike's face was so close to his face and his lips were touching his and Soren was pinned with his back to the table and Ike's hands were surprisingly warm on his face –
Ike let up slightly, and Soren broke the kiss, panting for breath. Head spinning with euphoria, he managed to gasp, “It's... still a dirty trick.”
“It isn't about seashells anymore,” Ike murmured, and did it again.
---
Despite his earlier statement, Soren grudgingly followed Ike outside and down to the oceanside, where it seemed that Mist and Rolf were pelting each other with sand balls. Boyd had taken Rolf's side, and Oscar involved himself to even it out. Shinon and Gatrie were probably more interested in the town than the beach, as they weren't there. Titania was relaxing on a chair nearby, lazily sipping at one of those fruit drinks Ike had earlier. As Ike gave Mist a protective look, Titania chuckled and said, “I tried to stop them. But once Oscar got carried away, it was a lost cause.”
Soren, taking a quick glance around, noted, “If either side were to take possession of that mound of gravel –”
Ike halfway intended to say, “Soren, this isn't war,” but instead, seized the opportunity by the pants and suggested, “Let's go do that.”
“What? No, we'll get sand all over us.”
But Ike had already taken off his shoes, bolting for the mound of gravel, and sighing, Soren followed, shouting indignantly, “Ike, I can't throw anything, you know that!”
And yet, at the end of the day, as they gathered around buckets of water, Mist complained, “Ike, no fair.” She dunked her hair in the bucket again, in an attempt to get the sand out. “You had Soren!”
“We had higher ground,” Soren rephrased for her, although his attention was directed towards the massive amount of sand trapped in his long, thick hair. “I was personally ineffectual.”
“Mist,” Ike said, disregarding Soren's disclaimer, “you four teamed up. That was unfair.”
Mist scrunched up her face. “But Boyd's a useless teammate! He kept pelting us!” Boyd splashed water at her, and Oscar shot him a disapproving look – or at least, until Mist splashed him back, at which point Oscar sighed and decided not to bother.
“Boyd's sand balls were the only ones consistently flung with enough force to cause any effect,” Soren pointed out, Boyd giving Mist a haughty smile, “although his aim was markedly horrible.” He splashed Soren, too. Soren, unlike Mist, did not take it in stride and gave Boyd a glare, refusing to lower himself to splashing back.
“Next time, I want Soren,” Mist said.
Harshly ripping through a sandy tangle, he snapped, “There will be no next time –”
Ike glanced at Soren and said, “No, Soren's mine.”
And Soren decided that this topic of conversation wasn't so bad after all.
---
Although he seemed competitive, Soren was actually not in the least concerned about the end result. He liked being on the mound with Ike, back to back, the feeling of two against the world, even if it was only a childish game. It was something he didn't get to experience in times of peace, as bandit attacks were rarely enough to even get adrenaline going, and he had almost missed battle.
“I think we have more opposition,” Soren noted as Shinon and Gatrie began to tread closer.
“We can take it.”
Whomp. Soren lost his footing and fell back into Ike as Shinon chuckled in delight. Ike was able to keep them on, but another sand ball, and they tumbled together off the mound.
“I can't believe how many fully-grown men play this game,” Soren commented as he laid there, staring at the sand being thrown around above him, a little sore about being displaced.
“Shinon just wants to throw sand at us,” Ike said, a sand ball breaking on his back as he spoke.
“Shinon has a good throwing arm,” Soren complimented. Ike waited for the inevitable negative comment, but Soren didn't give any.
“But?” Ike pressed.
Soren looked at Ike for a moment in thought, before looking back at the mound and pulling himself into a sitting position. “His tactics aren't bad either.” And here Ike had been expecting 'He has no brain cells.'
“So, where do we charge them?”
“After going through all the trouble to get the sand out....” Soren sighed, taking a look. “Ike, can you aim for his crotch?”
“Um.” Ike felt slightly sorry for the other man. “Yes, I suppose I could. What's the plan?”
“To boost morale.”
---
Soren was sore from the sand games, although he didn't intend to complain about it. But without prompting, he felt Ike's hands rub at his shoulders. “See, Toha isn't that bad.”
“Oh?”
“You were enjoying yourself out there. I bet Shinon didn't think you could throw.”
“I can't. That was the height advantage.”
“Anyway,” Ike continued, slipping his arms around Soren's chest, “it's been a good time.”
“Ike,” Soren began, recognizing the meaning in his touches, “what do you want?”
“You.”
“The walls are thin.”
Ike raised his eyebrows. “Am I really that loud?”
“Ike, I swear that your moans are loud enough to appall everyone within a ten-meter radius.” He paused. “That's about five rooms of people.”
Ike considered this for a long moment, not loosening his grip on Soren in the slightest. “But that just means you're good.”
Flushing and gripping at Ike's arms, he replied, “That's not the point.”
“Well, ah,” Ike began, thinking his way through the sentence as he went, “what about back at the fort? They already know, right?”
“I don't think inciting the wrath of the Toha townspeople a second time would be very conductive to relaxing, Ike.”
He was quiet for a bit, and Soren thought with satisfaction that perhaps Ike was taking their location seriously for once. But then, the next thing that came out of Ike's mouth was, “Did you bring your wind tome?”
“... Yes.”
“Then it's settled.”
Series: FE9/10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren, ensemble.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1772 words
Summary: Soren is dragged on a vacation to Toha.
Author's note: This isn't my fic. I'm hosting it for someone who will remain anonymous, because I kept on that the public needs this, and finally the person had me post in here for 'em. Please steer all your comments towards them!
Port Toha really wasn't a bad place for a vacation, Ike thought to himself idly, sipping a fruit drink through a straw. At first he was apprehensive towards the prospect of being in Toha again, but he trusted reports, and it appeared that the townspeople honestly had learned from their mistakes – although he was sure Soren would protest that statement – and began to lean towards tolerance. But politics wasn't Ike's concern. After the war, he decided that they deserved a vacation, and with Mist excitable as ever, they had gone traveling – for personal pleasure, not to save the world.
Across the table, Soren looked as irritable as ever, recounting some unfortunate business along the way. “We lost the records,” he was saying. “It'll take months to make that up – Ike, are you listening?”
“Try some,” Ike offered, nudging the glass of fruit smoothie towards him, and Soren gave it an incinerating look, as if he hated all fruit drinks for snatching Ike's attention.
“No thank you,” he said, in his I'd-rather-eat-shit voice. Normally, Ike figured, Soren wouldn't have bothered with etiquette at all, so it must've been a privilege to hear the words “thank you” in any context.
“Relax, Soren,” Ike said, taking back his drink and taking a long slurp. “It's sunny, the air is fresh, and the view is beautiful.” Soren crossed his arms and turned his head to the side, which Ike took to mean that he was spared a cynical rant on account of being Ike. “You did agree to this.”
“That was --” Soren cut himself off and looked extremely embarrassed. “Ike, that was after considerable persuasion.”
Ike shrugged, giving a gesture towards the inn. “Come on, Soren, like I couldn't persuade you again?” He spun the straw around in the cup, giving a cheeky grin as Soren shot him murderous looks.
“Fine, give me that,“ he shot back, seizing Ike's glass of fruit smoothie and taking a large gulp without the aid of the fancy straw. Ike watched with some amazement (and disappointment, as he had rather liked that drink) as the entire thing disappeared down Soren's throat. The mage sat the glass back on the table with a loud clank, as if proving a point.
“Hunh,” Ike commented, his own way of acknowledging this feat.
Soren took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, as if it was too appalling to lick off his lips. Still casting a glare at Ike, he said, “It's too sweet, and it has an inappropriately foreign flavor.”
“If it were less sweet,” Ike pointed out, “you'd say it was too sour.” Soren scowled at him, continuing to glare at the cup.
“This is a pointless trip,” he denounced, and walked back towards the inn.
---
When Ike entered the hotel, it was to pull his shirt off and fling it over a bedpost. Soren gave him a quizzical look. “Mist got everyone wet,” he explained, shaking out his hair. “You'd think she never saw an ocean before.”
“Not under relaxed circumstances, no.” Soren's eyes proceeded to follow shirtless Ike on his quest to find where his spare clothes were. Although amused, he said, “In the bundle in the closet.”
“Ah. Thanks.” Ike rummaged through a bag before pulling out a shirt. “So, I take it you're in a better mood?”
“Comparatively.” As if repulsed by saying anything positive, he added, “Toha is still irking. It's a terrible place for a 'vacation'.”
“Soren,” Ike said with a sigh, “you're not even trying to enjoy yourself.”
“Should I?”
“Yes. Lighten up. They're playing some kind of game with sea shells. Let's go look at that.”
“If enjoying time here requires great effort, I'll pass.”
“At this rate, you're never going to have fun.” Soren raised an eyebrow at that, perhaps out of apathy. “What objections do you have to this, anyway?”
“The people. The atmosphere. The sand. The air.” He paused. “Ike, you smell like fish and salt.” Soren stared up at Ike, who stood directly next to him with arms akimbo.
“You're going to like fish and salt,” he said pointedly, before leaning down for a kiss.
Soren lightly shoved his face away. “That's a dirty trick.”
“Soren –”
“I'm not coming out to play your asinine seashell games.”
“Stop being such a child –”
“I'm not being childish,” he said, before realizing that his statement came off as just that. They stared at each other for a bit before Soren finally asked, hesitantly, “What?” And suddenly, Ike's face was so close to his face and his lips were touching his and Soren was pinned with his back to the table and Ike's hands were surprisingly warm on his face –
Ike let up slightly, and Soren broke the kiss, panting for breath. Head spinning with euphoria, he managed to gasp, “It's... still a dirty trick.”
“It isn't about seashells anymore,” Ike murmured, and did it again.
---
Despite his earlier statement, Soren grudgingly followed Ike outside and down to the oceanside, where it seemed that Mist and Rolf were pelting each other with sand balls. Boyd had taken Rolf's side, and Oscar involved himself to even it out. Shinon and Gatrie were probably more interested in the town than the beach, as they weren't there. Titania was relaxing on a chair nearby, lazily sipping at one of those fruit drinks Ike had earlier. As Ike gave Mist a protective look, Titania chuckled and said, “I tried to stop them. But once Oscar got carried away, it was a lost cause.”
Soren, taking a quick glance around, noted, “If either side were to take possession of that mound of gravel –”
Ike halfway intended to say, “Soren, this isn't war,” but instead, seized the opportunity by the pants and suggested, “Let's go do that.”
“What? No, we'll get sand all over us.”
But Ike had already taken off his shoes, bolting for the mound of gravel, and sighing, Soren followed, shouting indignantly, “Ike, I can't throw anything, you know that!”
And yet, at the end of the day, as they gathered around buckets of water, Mist complained, “Ike, no fair.” She dunked her hair in the bucket again, in an attempt to get the sand out. “You had Soren!”
“We had higher ground,” Soren rephrased for her, although his attention was directed towards the massive amount of sand trapped in his long, thick hair. “I was personally ineffectual.”
“Mist,” Ike said, disregarding Soren's disclaimer, “you four teamed up. That was unfair.”
Mist scrunched up her face. “But Boyd's a useless teammate! He kept pelting us!” Boyd splashed water at her, and Oscar shot him a disapproving look – or at least, until Mist splashed him back, at which point Oscar sighed and decided not to bother.
“Boyd's sand balls were the only ones consistently flung with enough force to cause any effect,” Soren pointed out, Boyd giving Mist a haughty smile, “although his aim was markedly horrible.” He splashed Soren, too. Soren, unlike Mist, did not take it in stride and gave Boyd a glare, refusing to lower himself to splashing back.
“Next time, I want Soren,” Mist said.
Harshly ripping through a sandy tangle, he snapped, “There will be no next time –”
Ike glanced at Soren and said, “No, Soren's mine.”
And Soren decided that this topic of conversation wasn't so bad after all.
---
Although he seemed competitive, Soren was actually not in the least concerned about the end result. He liked being on the mound with Ike, back to back, the feeling of two against the world, even if it was only a childish game. It was something he didn't get to experience in times of peace, as bandit attacks were rarely enough to even get adrenaline going, and he had almost missed battle.
“I think we have more opposition,” Soren noted as Shinon and Gatrie began to tread closer.
“We can take it.”
Whomp. Soren lost his footing and fell back into Ike as Shinon chuckled in delight. Ike was able to keep them on, but another sand ball, and they tumbled together off the mound.
“I can't believe how many fully-grown men play this game,” Soren commented as he laid there, staring at the sand being thrown around above him, a little sore about being displaced.
“Shinon just wants to throw sand at us,” Ike said, a sand ball breaking on his back as he spoke.
“Shinon has a good throwing arm,” Soren complimented. Ike waited for the inevitable negative comment, but Soren didn't give any.
“But?” Ike pressed.
Soren looked at Ike for a moment in thought, before looking back at the mound and pulling himself into a sitting position. “His tactics aren't bad either.” And here Ike had been expecting 'He has no brain cells.'
“So, where do we charge them?”
“After going through all the trouble to get the sand out....” Soren sighed, taking a look. “Ike, can you aim for his crotch?”
“Um.” Ike felt slightly sorry for the other man. “Yes, I suppose I could. What's the plan?”
“To boost morale.”
---
Soren was sore from the sand games, although he didn't intend to complain about it. But without prompting, he felt Ike's hands rub at his shoulders. “See, Toha isn't that bad.”
“Oh?”
“You were enjoying yourself out there. I bet Shinon didn't think you could throw.”
“I can't. That was the height advantage.”
“Anyway,” Ike continued, slipping his arms around Soren's chest, “it's been a good time.”
“Ike,” Soren began, recognizing the meaning in his touches, “what do you want?”
“You.”
“The walls are thin.”
Ike raised his eyebrows. “Am I really that loud?”
“Ike, I swear that your moans are loud enough to appall everyone within a ten-meter radius.” He paused. “That's about five rooms of people.”
Ike considered this for a long moment, not loosening his grip on Soren in the slightest. “But that just means you're good.”
Flushing and gripping at Ike's arms, he replied, “That's not the point.”
“Well, ah,” Ike began, thinking his way through the sentence as he went, “what about back at the fort? They already know, right?”
“I don't think inciting the wrath of the Toha townspeople a second time would be very conductive to relaxing, Ike.”
He was quiet for a bit, and Soren thought with satisfaction that perhaps Ike was taking their location seriously for once. But then, the next thing that came out of Ike's mouth was, “Did you bring your wind tome?”
“... Yes.”
“Then it's settled.”
