raspberryturk | The Woods, Saturday Evening

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The Woods, Saturday Evening

"Rude's a prick," Reno complained.

It was official. Parking the chopper in the forest was a brilliant tactical move for anyone who wanted to be cruel and annoying and... cruel. Therefore, Rude was a brilliant tactician. And a prick.

"We'll find the chopper," he vowed, "and we'll fly the chopper," he vowed, "and then we can find Rude and kick his ass after we land, yo," he vowed some more.

"And it'll be totally worth it."

[For Rikku, please! Them's some big woods. :D]

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"Okay," she said quickly. "Okay." Breathing. She could breathe. She was good at that.

She held the joystick steady and tried to get her bearings. Switches. And dials. And ... she'd flown Pops' airship that didn't have dials marked half so neatly, so she should breathe and take a good look at them. Air pressure. Wind. Speed. Altimeter. And she didn't know what some of the words meant, but the dials were familiar anyway. This one should stay right in that range, and that one was okay so long as it wasn't really high.

They were still hovering. She curled her other hand around the joystick and took a deep breath, then tried moving it gently, a little bit over that way ... and the chopper dipped to the left. Back, and then it angled to the right.

"The handling on this ..." she murmured. Well. Pops' airship needed a full two-minute warning just to veer out of the way of obstacles.

"There you go, nice and smooth." Reno leaned forward a little more, checking some of the dials. "Seems like you already got a decent idea what you're doing, yo. Not bad."

He turned his face to look at her, that smug smile of his taking over.

"Better take her for a spin before I kick you outta the pilot's seat, hm?"

"You'd have to fight me for it," she laughed, shivering again with nervous energy. She darted a glance at him and grinned. "See, letting me fly was your first mistake."

She looked back at the console, flushing a little. "I had no idea it'd be so ... responsive. It makes you never want to land."

"Gotta land eventually," Reno chuckled. "Or we'll be goin' down the less pleasant way. And if we survive that, Rude'll kill us."

"I think we could take him," she grinned, sneaking a look back at him again. "You hold his arms, I'll punch?"

Reno laughed some more.

"Damn, Rikku. Askin' me to hold Rude's arms is like askin' Rude to beat me in a foot race." Which... was a really damn funny thought, to Reno.

"So, you're admitting he's more badass than you?" she asked lightly, nudging the joystick this way and that. Wow, flying. "I'll have to tell him you said so, yoto."

Edited 2008-02-03 05:42 (UTC)

"You kiddin'? Just because he can kick my ass in an arm wrestle doesn't mean I can't kick his in a fight." Reno leaned forward again, checking the controls. "You enjoyin' this?"

It kind of went without saying, didn't it?

"You kidding?" Rikku asked, more laughter bubbling out of her. "This is amazing. This ..."

She eased the joystick back, then pressed it forward again, still marveling at how the chopper bent to her lightest whim. She rolled it lightly in her hand and shook her head, at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she said, glancing over at him again and swallowing hard. "For ... I mean ..."

He was closer than she remembered him being.

Reno turned his head to face her, and kind of hesitated there for a moment.

Huh. He could feel her breath on his face from here. That was...

"Don't mention it," he stated. Totally stated it. It wasn't really like kind-of whispering it was any different from stating it. At all. Much.

"O-okay," she said, nodding quickly. She should be watching the dials. The console. The buttons and switches and ... other things she couldn't remember. Over that way. She'd look in a second. She would.

His eyes were right there and she couldn't place the look on his face and she was closer, now, close enough to tell there wasn't any writing on those tattoos curving around his eyes. She would have to tell him that. In a few moments.

Huh. The little swirls in her eyes kind of started from the outside, all dark and intriguing and. He kind of had to get a better look. Because.

It was all about her eyes, wasn't it?

No?

Her breath was so warm.

Were they flying?

Huh.

She didn't notice her hands, loosening their hold on the joystick, or the subtle shift in altitude accompanying it. Or realize that she was leaning, even closer, how strange, she already knew what his tattoos said. Didn't say. There wasn't text there. Right? She ...

She couldn't tell who leaned in the last inch. Maybe they both did.

His lips were soft, and her heart was pounding louder than the blades overhead.

Reno's hands knew every last inch of the chopper. His hands reached out and took control and leveled off the flight while the rest of him was somewhere entirely different.

Her breath was warm.

They were flying, right?

Of course they were.

His hand brushed hers, when he - oh, good, he had the joystick, they weren't going to crash into the forest. (Were they?) Her fingers lingered, curling against his for a moment, before sliding up and around his neck. She was dizzy and exhilarated and she might never catch her breath again.

He had control of the situation entirely.

Except for how he didn't.

And they weren't going to die in a spiral of flame.

Except how they totally might.

And he didn't have to breathe.

Except how he had somehow made the decision that he'd smother to death if he had to.

This was insane.

Completely insane. There was a voice in the back of her head that wanted to point that out, but she was trying her hardest not to listen. Her other hand was brushing against his jaw and she was easing further into the kiss and trying not to think about a lot of things. Like the chopper. And that voice in the back of her head. And how much she wanted to ignore all of that and drown.

They were still flying.

This was flying, wasn't it? It was. With his head spinning like chopper blades and there was the steady thrum of the rotor in his chest and her hands were probably some sort of equally cliché shit like the sky wrapping around him, only it somehow didn't seem cliché. It just was however it felt like it might be. So they were flying, and her hands were the sky, and he wasn't flying the chopper so much as it was flying them, and he was too wrapped up in her lips and her hands and her breath to be able to stop and pick apart reality from the metaphor.

And he'd have to breathe. Eventually.

She eased back, only a little, to steal a breath, and it came out a laugh, and her head was flying, well, so were they, weren't they? They -- the chopper --

She blinked and looked over -- right, he had the controls. Did he? She ... looked back at him, nervously, and smiled. "I, uh, do ... do you ..."

He had broken her ability to speak. They had. It was a mutual breaking of her ability to speak. And it was amazing. It was. Heh. It.

Huh. He was normally more coherent than this after a kiss. What the hell?

"Yuh-huh," he decided. Who needed to hear the rest of the question, anyhow? Questions were overrated. Answers probably were, too. They were still in the air? Good. Yep. "I'm gonna just. You know."

There was vague gesturing toward the ground. Maybe the ground was that way.

Heh.

"Do you ... need ..." Her seat? He should sit here. And something about the ground. Getting to the ground. Where she wasn't completely insane and kissing people and she kissed him? Okay. Okay. She should ...

She bit her lip, staring up at him. "I ... uh. Should I ..."

"Dunno. Maybe?" What was she talking about again? Maybe it didn't matter, and maybe was a good answer for anything without having to worry about being coherent and his eyes were on the gauges. Little meters and arrows and blinky things that he totally comprehended except for right now, where 'headed back toward the ground' was about as good as the comprehension was going to get.

They had kissed. Which was nothing surprising. It was a good kiss. That was good. Whatever. Sure. Okay.

But where the hell had it come from?

...

He'd temporarily lost his mind. Or something. And. Huh.

He was still smiling like an idiot, too. Probably should stop that.

Anytime now.

Rikku flushed and jumped up, suddenly flustered. "Sorry," she said, scooting past him and back to her own seat. Her seat, on the rational, sane side of the chopper, where she didn't kiss guys (she kissed him!?) or fly them into the ground and ... yes. Safer. Over here. Definitely.

Oh. Oh! His seat! Which was where his butt went. It was a good place for his butt, and let his arms have easier access to the buttons and joystick thingie and all the blinky lights and dials and stuff. But his arms weren't reaching over her shoulders anymore to get at them. Which. Kind of sucked? Maybe? And-

Okay, Reno. Sanity. Coherency. Other words that end in y. Good. Good.

"S'good," he felt the need to clarify aloud. "S'good, zoto."

So. There were clearings in the woods. He'd be nice and park the chopper closer to the con than Rude had.

Rude was totally a douche.

Yeah.

Rikku nodded, staring out the windshield. "Y-yeah. Good."

Her seat. Very nice. Less confusing over here. Except over here you got to worry about being insane, and about him thinking you were insane, and him being insane, and why you had just kissed him. So ... not much better. Still.

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