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Entry tags:
fic: So Obvious
Title: So Obvious
Series: FE10
Character/pairing: Kieran/Oscar, implied Ike/Soren subtext, Ranulf.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1010
Author's note: comment_fic: any, any, "Why don't you just snog each other?" Modern AU. Wherein Ike is momentarily not oblivious, but it doesn't last. For M, as I promised her some Kieran/Oscar some time ago.
It was the weekend, and Ike was chilling out. The lawn had to be mowed, but it was too hot to do it yet. Nothing was on TV, and Ranulf was over playing with his latest expensive phone. Even Soren wasn't doing much, having left his task of refiling all their tax returns, presumably for fun to come out and take a drink and occasionally glare at Ranulf.
Oscar came out, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm off for my cooking class," he said. He waved, and Ike waved back. Before Oscar could even open the door, Kieran charged out after him, already wearing his manly apron with a pattern of barbed wire sewn in and nothing else.
"...Kieran, pants," Oscar said wearily.
"A Crimean Knight needs no pants!" Kieran bellowed.
"You do if you're going to be a cooking partner," Oscar said. He pushed Kieran back to the room. Two pairs of eyes followed them. The third was ignoring them, as always and surveying over the newspaper.
Their living room had seen a lot of weird things, though Kieran routinely topped the weirdness scale. Ike leaned back on the old tartan couch, which had seen better years. Soren leaned against the big arm rest of the couch, while Ranulf had his feet on the coffee table. From the room could be heard assorted bellows, as presumably, Kieran was forcibly made to put on clothes.
Ike blinked. Something seemed to come together. It finally made sense.
"Honestly, why don't they just kiss each other already?" Ike said.
"Who?" Soren asked absently. He had his blue coffee cup to his lips, which currently held iced tea because it was too damned hot for anything else.
"Kieran and Oscar. It's pretty obvious," Ike said.
There was a crash as the coffee cup hit the floor and Soren stared at Ike, wide-eyed. He stood in a pool of coffee and colored glass.
Ranulf doubled over in a laugh. He was laughing so hard he looked like he might actually achieve a ROFL, or whatever they called them these days. Ike wondered what the big deal was. Soren looked traumatized in that yearning, wary way that reminded him of when Soren had first come to them, and Ranulf was hyperventilating from laughing so hard.
"What? They're really obvious," Ike said.
"Oh, I'm dying here," Ranulf said. He wiped away a tear. "I gotta text this."
"They're constantly focused on each other. They don't have girlfriends, and they're always talking about their friendship or rivalry or whatever. I just heard Kieran say he'd follow Oscar to the ends of the earth the other day. Okay, there was something about axes and destined rivals and whatever, but it was Kieran-ese," Ike said. He shrugged at the last part.
"And that doesn't sound like anybody else we know," Ranulf said. He grinned, and gave Ike a knowing joke like it was an in-joke between them. Except that Ike didn't know or get this in-joke. It happened more than you'd imagine.
Ike looked blankly at him. Soren tensed, looking from Ike to Ranulf.
"I don't think Kieran is like anyone, he's pretty unique," Ike said.
Soren sighed. He bent to pick up the pieces of his mug. There was a mutter of Only you. Ike wasn't sure which one these mutterings were aimed at. Proably Ranulf, knowing Soren.
"Ike, you are the champion of missing the point. In fact, I have to text that. We're totally landing on Texts From Last Night, buddy!"
Ike looked from one to another. Soren seemed already settled in one of his unexplainable sulks. After a few minutes of sweeping up the pieces (Ike offered, but Soren shook his head to refuse) wiping up the mess, Soren stalked out, and down the hall, a door slammed. To say nothing about Ranulf's constant grinning and texting it to everyone they knew and a lot who didn't. Ike hadn't been this confused about Ranulf's reactions since Ranulf tried to explain to him that a 'bowl' didn't mean cereal.
Sometimes Ike didn't get his friends at all.
*
coda:
"...Kieran, when I said to put on pants, I didn't mean on your head," Oscar said.
"You never specified!" Kieran bellowed. "For all I know, the culture could be one of pants-on-heads fashions! That is how strange these Begnion people are!"
Oscar pulled the briefs off of Kieran's head, and mussed up Kieran's hair in the process. He attempted to smooth Kieran's hair down, but Kieran's hair defied such order and proceeded to muss itself up even more, only making it look like they'd had a roll in the hay before leaving.
Oscar sighed and gave up. The last time he'd tried to introduce Kieran to hair gel, Kieran had thought it possessed and ended up chopping the bottle in two.
"It isn't something they'd do–-That fad of wearing bras on the outside notwithstanding," Oscar said.
Kieran pulled on his jeans. They were a particular favorite, having a patch in the knee with a pattern of bears which Oscar had stitched in.
"I must say, Ike and Soren are quite obvious rivals," Kieran said in an entirely reasonably way. "Just the other day I heard Soren say that he would follow Ike to the ends of Tellius itself, and neither has interest in a female rival. They should declare their manly feelings like good rivals do!"
"That'll happen about the time you remember to put on pants," Oscar said.
"Pants are the enemy!" Kieran bellowed. "And you squinty, ruggedly handsome rival of mine, I remind you that I remembered to put on pants last Thursday just to spite you!"
Then again, maybe they had some hope after all.
Series: FE10
Character/pairing: Kieran/Oscar, implied Ike/Soren subtext, Ranulf.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1010
Author's note: comment_fic: any, any, "Why don't you just snog each other?" Modern AU. Wherein Ike is momentarily not oblivious, but it doesn't last. For M, as I promised her some Kieran/Oscar some time ago.
It was the weekend, and Ike was chilling out. The lawn had to be mowed, but it was too hot to do it yet. Nothing was on TV, and Ranulf was over playing with his latest expensive phone. Even Soren wasn't doing much, having left his task of refiling all their tax returns, presumably for fun to come out and take a drink and occasionally glare at Ranulf.
Oscar came out, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm off for my cooking class," he said. He waved, and Ike waved back. Before Oscar could even open the door, Kieran charged out after him, already wearing his manly apron with a pattern of barbed wire sewn in and nothing else.
"...Kieran, pants," Oscar said wearily.
"A Crimean Knight needs no pants!" Kieran bellowed.
"You do if you're going to be a cooking partner," Oscar said. He pushed Kieran back to the room. Two pairs of eyes followed them. The third was ignoring them, as always and surveying over the newspaper.
Their living room had seen a lot of weird things, though Kieran routinely topped the weirdness scale. Ike leaned back on the old tartan couch, which had seen better years. Soren leaned against the big arm rest of the couch, while Ranulf had his feet on the coffee table. From the room could be heard assorted bellows, as presumably, Kieran was forcibly made to put on clothes.
Ike blinked. Something seemed to come together. It finally made sense.
"Honestly, why don't they just kiss each other already?" Ike said.
"Who?" Soren asked absently. He had his blue coffee cup to his lips, which currently held iced tea because it was too damned hot for anything else.
"Kieran and Oscar. It's pretty obvious," Ike said.
There was a crash as the coffee cup hit the floor and Soren stared at Ike, wide-eyed. He stood in a pool of coffee and colored glass.
Ranulf doubled over in a laugh. He was laughing so hard he looked like he might actually achieve a ROFL, or whatever they called them these days. Ike wondered what the big deal was. Soren looked traumatized in that yearning, wary way that reminded him of when Soren had first come to them, and Ranulf was hyperventilating from laughing so hard.
"What? They're really obvious," Ike said.
"Oh, I'm dying here," Ranulf said. He wiped away a tear. "I gotta text this."
"They're constantly focused on each other. They don't have girlfriends, and they're always talking about their friendship or rivalry or whatever. I just heard Kieran say he'd follow Oscar to the ends of the earth the other day. Okay, there was something about axes and destined rivals and whatever, but it was Kieran-ese," Ike said. He shrugged at the last part.
"And that doesn't sound like anybody else we know," Ranulf said. He grinned, and gave Ike a knowing joke like it was an in-joke between them. Except that Ike didn't know or get this in-joke. It happened more than you'd imagine.
Ike looked blankly at him. Soren tensed, looking from Ike to Ranulf.
"I don't think Kieran is like anyone, he's pretty unique," Ike said.
Soren sighed. He bent to pick up the pieces of his mug. There was a mutter of Only you. Ike wasn't sure which one these mutterings were aimed at. Proably Ranulf, knowing Soren.
"Ike, you are the champion of missing the point. In fact, I have to text that. We're totally landing on Texts From Last Night, buddy!"
Ike looked from one to another. Soren seemed already settled in one of his unexplainable sulks. After a few minutes of sweeping up the pieces (Ike offered, but Soren shook his head to refuse) wiping up the mess, Soren stalked out, and down the hall, a door slammed. To say nothing about Ranulf's constant grinning and texting it to everyone they knew and a lot who didn't. Ike hadn't been this confused about Ranulf's reactions since Ranulf tried to explain to him that a 'bowl' didn't mean cereal.
Sometimes Ike didn't get his friends at all.
*
coda:
"...Kieran, when I said to put on pants, I didn't mean on your head," Oscar said.
"You never specified!" Kieran bellowed. "For all I know, the culture could be one of pants-on-heads fashions! That is how strange these Begnion people are!"
Oscar pulled the briefs off of Kieran's head, and mussed up Kieran's hair in the process. He attempted to smooth Kieran's hair down, but Kieran's hair defied such order and proceeded to muss itself up even more, only making it look like they'd had a roll in the hay before leaving.
Oscar sighed and gave up. The last time he'd tried to introduce Kieran to hair gel, Kieran had thought it possessed and ended up chopping the bottle in two.
"It isn't something they'd do–-That fad of wearing bras on the outside notwithstanding," Oscar said.
Kieran pulled on his jeans. They were a particular favorite, having a patch in the knee with a pattern of bears which Oscar had stitched in.
"I must say, Ike and Soren are quite obvious rivals," Kieran said in an entirely reasonably way. "Just the other day I heard Soren say that he would follow Ike to the ends of Tellius itself, and neither has interest in a female rival. They should declare their manly feelings like good rivals do!"
"That'll happen about the time you remember to put on pants," Oscar said.
"Pants are the enemy!" Kieran bellowed. "And you squinty, ruggedly handsome rival of mine, I remind you that I remembered to put on pants last Thursday just to spite you!"
Then again, maybe they had some hope after all.