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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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.

Oh look. There was the ground. And there was the chopper, landing on the ground. In a clearing. Closer to the con than it had been before. And Reno was going to shut off the rotor now. And run his hand through his hair. And kind of grin at the blinky lights on the dash for a moment. They were grinning back, in a totally inanimate blinky light kind of way. The blinky lights were saying, 'Reno. You're the man.'

They had no idea what they were talking about. Crazy little inanimate lights. It was just a kiss.

Well, yes, the blinky lights continued saying. But it was the kiss and Reno was going to just put his hands over the blinky lights to shut them up before he turned everything off and sat there in silence for a moment.

"Huh."

The blinky lights were fucking insane.

Edited 2008-02-03 08:22 (UTC)

Rikku cleared her throat. "Uh."

Intelligent.

"The, uh. The chopper's ... really nice."

Much better, right there.

At least it was sort of dark in here and he couldn't see what a colossal moron she was?

"Yeah. It's a really... nice chopper, zoto."

Perhaps there was a sort of moronic echo in here. That might explain the contagious sort of stupid.

"Gettin' dark out."

And the blatantly stating the obvious.

"I should go," Rikku said, nodding suddenly. She stood up and fumbled for her door handle.

Reno agreed and disagreed and agreed and disagreed and stood up and helped her with the door.

"That's a good idea," he decided as he heaved the door open. Yep. Going. Good idea. Sure beats spending the night in the... in the chopper.

Huh.

Rikku stepped outside, back into the chill of the night air, an--- chill. Right.

She took off his coat and held it out. "I, uh. Th-thanks."

Reno kind of eyed the coat. That was his coat. And he should take it and put it back on and then life would be grand and this never happened, right?

"It's still cold." He made no motion to take his jacket back. "Colder."

She sighed, frustrated, and gestured towards him with it again. "It's your uniform-thing. Suit. It's ... and you need it back and I have to go."

"You plannin' on never seeing me again? We go to class together. And it's cold, yo." He continued to not reach for his jacket.

She looked really cute when she was weari--

It was cold out.

"Why are you being like this? It's your coat. You're just ... not gonna have a coat until I see you again? Your suit thing's gonna be all wrong and Rude's gonna tell your boss and ... here."

No. She had no idea why she was being stubborn, either.

"I already fuck up the uniform every chance I get," Reno said. He was going to cross his arms in front of his chest and damn well refuse to take his coat back. "You're standin' there in short-shorts and a tank-top, and you're from the desert. I don't need the coat right now, yo."

He figured that his logic was returning to him, at least.

"I climbed Gagazet in this outfit and it was covered in freaking snow. I can handle myself and what if I just drop the stupid jacket here? Then it's not my problem if you pick it up or leave it out for the squirrels to eat."

She didn't drop it. She was just, you know. Raising the possibility.

"Either way, I get my jacket back on Tuesday. One way just comes with more rum, is all."

"You're saying I should?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He raised an eyebrow right back.

"What. You want to ditch my coat on the forest floor and walk back to the dorms cold?"

The Woods, Saturday Evening

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