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Tales of Vesperia, "Echoing" (Raven/Flynn)
The knights have to deal with troublemakers in bars all the time. They're usually not commanding officers. But Raven isn't trouble as much as he's just troubling.
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areyougame, to the prompt: Raven/Flynn: drunk and disorderly - of the two of them, Casey was most like him.
Contains spoilers for everything Raven; light angst.
.echoing.
It was funny, he thought, stumbling down the corridor.
"It's funny," he echoed aloud, leaning heavily on Flynn's shoulder. He didn't seem able to think things without saying them. "You remind me of someone!"
"Is that so," Flynn said, his tone discouraging. He was obviously not interested in who that someone might be, or why; maybe he was already prepared for teasing or mockery. He was all but stony with his disapproval. And who could blame him, dragging his senior and one-time superior officer -- a decorated war hero -- to an inn room because he was too drunk to walk straight.
Raven smiled, but it was painful. Everything was a little painful.
"She would've said that, too," he mused. "In that same exact tone. 'Is that so'..."
"Obviously she feels the same way I do about people drinking themselves into incompetence," he heard Flynn saying, as if from far away.
Casey had disapproved of such carousing, too. She had believed in hard work, in preparedness, in diligence. Raven could still recall her withering stare when she found the handful of knights from her brigade spending their time off lying useless and giggling on a barroom floor. He remembered this moment; when she had carried him to his room, him, the most useless of them all. He remembered the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body, the mysterious way she had felt so soft and sounded so hard. As drunk as he'd been, as long as it had been since that day, he could never forget.
"You remind me of her," he said. Flynn shoved him up against the wall, not entirely gently. Raven smirked, wobbling, but he didn't move while Flynn fumbled with the key. He was capable enough to stay upright when propped up by a wall. "Canary, my little Canary... But-- But Yuri's the one who looks like her!"
Then he cracked up. Flynn gave him a dirty look when he thought Raven couldn't see it, but he continued unlocking the door. Raven brushed tears out of his eyes. Ahhh. The kid was just wound too tight to see how funny it was.
"Are you-- Are you disappointed in me, Flynnie?" Raven asked, leaning closer to him and then losing his balance. Flynn caught him again before he could hit anything and he rested all his weight happily on the younger man.
"Please stop. You're making yourself very heavy."
Raven wobbled, peering up at him. "Are you-- disappointed in me?"
"I'm disappointed in your behavior," Flynn corrected, guiding him a step into the room.
A semantic distinction if ever Raven had heard one. "Sem-- Semmmmantics!" he cried, throwing his arms up and smacking Flynn in the face. Then he groped apologetically for the blond man's nose. Flynn pushed his hands away irritably.
But he was still guiding him, step by step, to the bed.
Casey had been like that, too. You could disappoint her, oh, yes. She could look at you as if you were dirt, deliver a glare and a lecture that would leave grown men ashamed as little boys. She cut to the quick, reasonable and merciless.
But she would never give up on you. She would still put her own neck on the line for you, or go out of her way to help. If you put in the work, you could always right the wrong, win back her favor. She carried a grudge precisely as long as you deserved it.
He'd always thought she was completely unique in that. That was why he kept being tempted to push at it. To see if it was real.
"I'm only disappointed because of the trouble you caused," Flynn said firmly. "If they hadn't needed to call the knights because you wouldn't come down off the table--"
"But it was fun! Have you ever been up on a table, Flynnie? Dancing, I mean? I don't, I don't know know why else you'd be on a table, obviously..."
Flynn let him drop onto the bed, and Raven grimaced. He wasn't as drunk as he was pretending to be, but he was definitely too drunk to be falling and bouncing around like that.
Flynn said, firm, "No more tables for you tonight, Captain."
That made him laugh for real, a lower chuckle compared to his cackling from earlier. "You just -- dragged me off a table in a bar, blind drunk, bought me a room, dragged me here bodily, and -- you're still calling me captain, Commandant?"
That gave the young man pause, knocking him visibly off his stride. His blue gaze flickered away. "Because -- you're..." Flynn trailed off.
Because you're Captain Schwann, the silence said.
They had that in common, too. Despite all that resilience, despite all that strength and mercy; that naive, adoring loyalty that Raven had never in all his dreams, in all his lives, been able to understand.
Maybe tomorrow Flynn would still think of his ridiculous drunken antics tonight. But the day after tomorrow? The day after that? The next time he showed up in uniform at a formal event?
"C'mere," Raven said to him, beckoning him closer.
Flynn blinked, but he leaned in, curious. Raven reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him down into a kiss -- firm, open-mouthed and wet, seeking. Flynn held still above him, surprised but not resisting for a long heartbeat, two, three.
Then Raven let him go again, shoving him back a little. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at Flynn's reaction and said, "There we go. You can -- go back to the Royal Quarter now."
There was silence for a few more heartbeats before he heard a soft footstep, and then another: Flynn moving for the door, and closing it softly behind him.
He was a good kid, Raven thought.
Just like the sweet little canary before him. Much too good for someone like old Raven.
Written for
areyougame, to the prompt: Raven/Flynn: drunk and disorderly - of the two of them, Casey was most like him.Contains spoilers for everything Raven; light angst.
.echoing.
It was funny, he thought, stumbling down the corridor.
"It's funny," he echoed aloud, leaning heavily on Flynn's shoulder. He didn't seem able to think things without saying them. "You remind me of someone!"
"Is that so," Flynn said, his tone discouraging. He was obviously not interested in who that someone might be, or why; maybe he was already prepared for teasing or mockery. He was all but stony with his disapproval. And who could blame him, dragging his senior and one-time superior officer -- a decorated war hero -- to an inn room because he was too drunk to walk straight.
Raven smiled, but it was painful. Everything was a little painful.
"She would've said that, too," he mused. "In that same exact tone. 'Is that so'..."
"Obviously she feels the same way I do about people drinking themselves into incompetence," he heard Flynn saying, as if from far away.
Casey had disapproved of such carousing, too. She had believed in hard work, in preparedness, in diligence. Raven could still recall her withering stare when she found the handful of knights from her brigade spending their time off lying useless and giggling on a barroom floor. He remembered this moment; when she had carried him to his room, him, the most useless of them all. He remembered the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body, the mysterious way she had felt so soft and sounded so hard. As drunk as he'd been, as long as it had been since that day, he could never forget.
"You remind me of her," he said. Flynn shoved him up against the wall, not entirely gently. Raven smirked, wobbling, but he didn't move while Flynn fumbled with the key. He was capable enough to stay upright when propped up by a wall. "Canary, my little Canary... But-- But Yuri's the one who looks like her!"
Then he cracked up. Flynn gave him a dirty look when he thought Raven couldn't see it, but he continued unlocking the door. Raven brushed tears out of his eyes. Ahhh. The kid was just wound too tight to see how funny it was.
"Are you-- Are you disappointed in me, Flynnie?" Raven asked, leaning closer to him and then losing his balance. Flynn caught him again before he could hit anything and he rested all his weight happily on the younger man.
"Please stop. You're making yourself very heavy."
Raven wobbled, peering up at him. "Are you-- disappointed in me?"
"I'm disappointed in your behavior," Flynn corrected, guiding him a step into the room.
A semantic distinction if ever Raven had heard one. "Sem-- Semmmmantics!" he cried, throwing his arms up and smacking Flynn in the face. Then he groped apologetically for the blond man's nose. Flynn pushed his hands away irritably.
But he was still guiding him, step by step, to the bed.
Casey had been like that, too. You could disappoint her, oh, yes. She could look at you as if you were dirt, deliver a glare and a lecture that would leave grown men ashamed as little boys. She cut to the quick, reasonable and merciless.
But she would never give up on you. She would still put her own neck on the line for you, or go out of her way to help. If you put in the work, you could always right the wrong, win back her favor. She carried a grudge precisely as long as you deserved it.
He'd always thought she was completely unique in that. That was why he kept being tempted to push at it. To see if it was real.
"I'm only disappointed because of the trouble you caused," Flynn said firmly. "If they hadn't needed to call the knights because you wouldn't come down off the table--"
"But it was fun! Have you ever been up on a table, Flynnie? Dancing, I mean? I don't, I don't know know why else you'd be on a table, obviously..."
Flynn let him drop onto the bed, and Raven grimaced. He wasn't as drunk as he was pretending to be, but he was definitely too drunk to be falling and bouncing around like that.
Flynn said, firm, "No more tables for you tonight, Captain."
That made him laugh for real, a lower chuckle compared to his cackling from earlier. "You just -- dragged me off a table in a bar, blind drunk, bought me a room, dragged me here bodily, and -- you're still calling me captain, Commandant?"
That gave the young man pause, knocking him visibly off his stride. His blue gaze flickered away. "Because -- you're..." Flynn trailed off.
Because you're Captain Schwann, the silence said.
They had that in common, too. Despite all that resilience, despite all that strength and mercy; that naive, adoring loyalty that Raven had never in all his dreams, in all his lives, been able to understand.
Maybe tomorrow Flynn would still think of his ridiculous drunken antics tonight. But the day after tomorrow? The day after that? The next time he showed up in uniform at a formal event?
"C'mere," Raven said to him, beckoning him closer.
Flynn blinked, but he leaned in, curious. Raven reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him down into a kiss -- firm, open-mouthed and wet, seeking. Flynn held still above him, surprised but not resisting for a long heartbeat, two, three.
Then Raven let him go again, shoving him back a little. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at Flynn's reaction and said, "There we go. You can -- go back to the Royal Quarter now."
There was silence for a few more heartbeats before he heard a soft footstep, and then another: Flynn moving for the door, and closing it softly behind him.
He was a good kid, Raven thought.
Just like the sweet little canary before him. Much too good for someone like old Raven.
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I hope it was a good kiss. X3 Even if that would technically just make everything harder.
I love your Raven, FYI. :3c
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Flynn probably writes the kiss off as being super drunk (even though it was nice) and Raven probably doesn't bring it up again. Speaking of being difficult, lawl.
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I SPEAK ONLY THE TRUTH.
:( Flynn why don't you want nice things. (Since we know why Raven doesn't. :D )
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It was just perfect.
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I definitely like the idea of incorporating Canary as a nickname, so the naming theme makes sense, while still using Casey. :D