7-Apr-2002

Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Yaoi LEMON, Spoilers
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.

Chapter Fourteen - Rites of Passage (cont)

Part 34

Dilandau followed the others' departure for the short distance to the door before glancing at where Van was waiting. He looked from Van to the bottle and back before asking, "That's decently full I hope."

Van shook the bottle slightly and nodded, moving to join the albino.

"Good," Dilandau said, taking the route opposite of that of the Heavenly Knight, back towards where they had come. "Thankfully, I have an abysmal tolerance," he confessed, almost cheerfully.

"Convenient," Van remarked. "I have no idea what mine is."

The Captain glanced over at Van, noticing the flight flush from the single drink. "Not much better I'd guess," he replied.

"That works," Van replied, accepting it easily.

The room in mind was not far away and the walk to it was uneventful. The Captain again took the spot on the bed, leaning back against the wall it lay adjacent to. Wordlessly he held up a hand for the bottle.

Van had placed the container in question to his lips upon crossing the threshold. He lowered it, tongue moving out to catch an errant drop, and handed it to the other boy. Then he walked over to the recess that he remembered was a door and opened it, going inside. The door remained open and a shirt was tossed out, then boots one by one, and finally pants. There was a silence and then the sound of water running. After a little experimentation, the Fanelian managed to get an acceptable temperature and moved under the stream.

The Captain had watched each garment's arch across the room with a slightly fuzzy amusement. He took the opportunity to remove the top layer of his own clothes, coat, boots and circlet for the most part, feeling more comfortable without them. He folded each and punctuated the setting aside of each garment with another drink before leaning back again, eyes closed. The heady warmth of the vino worked fast enough draining away the ever present tension in the boy. He relaxed, listening to the sound of the water with the slightest ghost of a smile.

After a little while, the sound stopped. After another few moments, a damp, naked Van emerged, a small towel twisted around his slender hips. He detoured to the bed, recaptured the bottle and lifted it, then returned it to the other. He glanced at the chair and made a face, and sat and then sprawled on the floor with a sound of relief.

Dilandau let his eyes slide over the other's form a moment before smirking. "You don't have to take the floor," he said simply, taking another quick drink from the bottle before offering it to the Fanelian.

The flush had increased somewhat, and Van rolled to his knees and crawled over to the bed like a cat. He took the bottle and drank, holding it a moment. He looked at the other boy, his expression a trifle naive. "No? The last time we were here, you left the room rather than share this with me..."

Dilandau returned the gaze, a bit unfocused, and the signs of alcohol prominent across his fair features. "The last time you're here, I was in pain, and just wanted you better enough to kill you."

Van leaned his arms on the bed, resting his chin on them. "What do you want now?"

The Captain didn't answer immediately, taking the bottle first and a few gulps of the red liquid within. He handed it back a little unsteadily. "Don't know. Something like this, only different."

Van laughed, finding the words amusing for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. He took another drink, noticing that the bottle was a lot lighter now. "Oh," he said, gazing up. Suddenly a deep warm thrill ran though his body, causing a slight shiver. He dropped his eyes immediately.

"Oh?" Dilandau repeated, before shrugging, a short barely audible giggle shook his bare shoulders. "Not a clue. Not a fucking clue. Though she was right, I don't hate you. Just trying to figure out what then."

Van looked up, cinnamon eyes wide. "I don't mind so much if you hate me," he said, his speech slightly blurry. "Just so long as it's something that matters..."

"If it didn't matter I'd have left you there," Dilandau said, without clarifying where 'there' was. He took the bottle again, taking a few more sips. A quick shake of it signaled only a small pool left with. He handed it back, looking at Van thoughtfully. "Was good thing it matters."

Van took the last swallow of liquid, a little escaping from the corner of his mouth, and he wiped it with his finger and then sucked the last drops off. He didn't get all the words but tried to memorize them anyway, to think about later. "I don't want you to go," he said distinctly, dropping his eyes again with a somewhat tardy sense of shyness.

Dilandau shook his head in a mute refusal. He couldn't figure out the why to that statement sober, he wasn't going to try it now. It was the reason that the bottle was empty now. "Not going." he said, then his eyes narrowed in what could be a playful manner. "You took the last of the wine," he lamented.

Van frowned. He pushed against the bed to get to his feet. "Get some more..." he muttered, making a grab for the towel as it slipped off his hips.

The other chuckled darkly, pulling Van's face up as the boy bent to retrieve the errant cloth. "No, that's fine, I'll just take what's left," he said, kissing Van full on the lips, his tongue darting quickly to take the traces of the bittersweet liquid from the tanned boy's lips.

Van gasped slightly, loosing his grip on the towel, as his eyes lidded automatically. He felt another, harder flush sweep his body along with a painful twist. His knees folded next to the low bed as he swayed, finding balance after a moment. He pressed his mouth back against the other's, offering and coaxing at the same time.

Dilandau took both willingly, deepening the kiss as his arms wrapped around the kneeling boy drawing the other against him. His own eyes finally slid closed again, taking a contentment from the warm proximity. A long moment he reveled in exploring the sweet, vino-laced mouth before drawing back slightly, eyes still shut. One of his hands slipped to the front and blindly traced its way from his shoulders and neck to run through the disheveled dark hair.

Van leaned into the touch, his own hands reaching for Dilandau, splaying across the other's skin, tracing across it restlessly. One hand went up, finding a strong, smooth throat, the other moved down, across a flat stomach. He felt almost as if he were learning and creating the body at the same moment.

Dilandau sighed slightly, a sound different from his usual tones of irritation. His eyes opened halfway, and his free hand trailed along the other's backside, sliding around the muscled thighs before he let himself slip off the edge off the bed, even, and closer to Van.

One arm reached around him, pulling him close, drawing their bodies together. The sigh drew Van's attention and he kissed the other boy's lips, as if trying to capture a similar sound. His body continued to respond to each touch, quite intensely, and he could suddenly think of several things he wanted to do, poised for a moment unable to decide between them.

The other boy had no patience for hesitation. He let one hand travel lower, curling around Van's erection and he nearly leaned against the other boy. "I lied," he said, a little fuzzily, his own lips finding Van's for a moment. "I said I didn't know. I think I do. You're my," he said, the strange ending to the sentence was left in the air as lazy red eyes watch his own hands play along the darker skin. "My fight, my ally, my enemy, my lover," he recited. "Just my."

Van groaned, his body pushing up into the other boy's hand of its own volition. He caught the albino's other hand and brought it to his lips, licking the fingers, then nipped at them. He felt the words sink into him, solving something, some puzzle that had been at the root of his awareness for longer than he could remember. "Yes," he said simply, accepting it. He sucked one of those slender fingers into his mouth for a moment, releasing it slowly. /My,/ he repeated silently, /My without which nothing *feels*.../

The words and actions had a twofold effect on the pale boy. The hand below released Van and met with the other behind his back, pulling the slightly shorter boy into an almost desperate embrace. Whether from alcohol or emotion, Van could feel the slightest of trembling beneath the thin layer of clothes that separated them.

Van responded to that sensation by winding his arms more tightly around the other, leaning back to the floor, pulling Dilandau with him, finding his mouth for another, even deeper kiss as his body moved against the other boy, feeling the material of his pants between them, rough against his throbbing skin. He tried to think, what to do, but could only move against the other boy as if trying to make their bodies melt into each other.

Dilandau groaned, the sensation going straight to his head. The heat took up living space, evicting what thoughts might have been there. Breathing deeply, he steadied himself, pulling back for a brief moment. Dark eyes met Van's and he mumbled, "Right back," before climbing unsteadily to his feet, making his way towards the still open doorway. He emerged a few moments later with what appeared to be a few small packets. As he knelt down again next to Van, it was more clearly a liquid soap, wrapped in the same neat sterile packages as most things were in the city.

Without explanation, he leaned over Van again, kissing the boy hard before making his way downwards, one hand leading the way as the other worked to get rid of his own clothing.

Van gasped, moaning softly in his throat, a little like a crooning dragonling. He squirmed around until he could reach the albino, helping him disrobe with urgent fingers. He had only the vaguest idea what they were heading towards but he was quite determined to get all the way there this time, whatever the destination proved to be. Once the pants hand been pulled from the other boy's hips and legs, he reached up and captured the stiffening, throbbing flesh revealed in eager fingers.

The action was greeted by an involuntary sound and a fast indrawn breath. The albino clenched his eyes shut at the sensation, the doubled warmth of wine and passion running through him. The boy leaned forward briefly disrupting the ministrations to move downward slightly. He came to the point where Van could feel the boy's breath against him, the slight displacement of air a torture in itself before the boy ran his tongue along the length in one slow motion.

The hot wet touch wrung a cry from Van, sending a shot of pleasure that seemed to reverberate through his body. Panting, he edged around a little more, bringing his upper body into line with the other boy's lower. He looked up at the pale skin above, rippling neatly over muscle, and the engorged object in his fingers, darkened with a stain of blood under translucent skin. It winked at him with a drop of liquid at its tip. Taking a ragged breath he extended his neck and took the bead of liquid with his tongue.

The muscles of the boy's lower stomach and legs clenched at the touch, echoing in silent language what the incoherent sound tried to convey. Dilandau had taken Van full into his mouth as a response, his own eyes shut tightly as he fought his own body's reactions for the concentration he usually had. A quick moment of suction was alternated by attention of lips and tongue. The boy himself had fallen slightly to prop himself up by one elbow even as his free hand sought for the packets he'd brought out while he could still think clearly enough to remember them.

Van made another startled sound, half protest and half surrender. His hips tensed and flexed as sensations flooded his body, sweeping him into a warm, urgent wave that continued to build slowly. Breathing hard, he slid hands around Dilandau's hips and opened his mouth, beginning to suckle on the hard flesh above, without knowledge or art, simply falling into an instinctive pattern as he accepted the taste of the other boy's hot flesh.

Cold air suddenly replaced the warmth around his erection as Dilandau pulled away, making a sound almost but not quite pained. Taking a moment to regain himself and let his breathing and hammering heart even out, Dilandau simply said, "Not yet," with a quiet determination.

His fingers curled around the packet he'd sought and tore one open, the slick soap deliberately coating his fingers before he moved back to Van's side, kneeling between the king's legs. His dry hand caressed the inner muscles as the other found its way to the entrance, only pausing a second too look up at Van, an unusual gesture.

Van responded to the two word command with reluctant obedience. He felt the touch between his legs and stiffened, eyes widening. Swallowing, he looked down, meeting garnet eyes with some startlement. "Oh..." It wasn't quite a fully formed word, perhaps only a rounding of lips but the expression of sudden understanding and resulting shock were followed quickly by another hard flush.

Some of the drink's effects had cleared enough to make a vague interpretation of consent, and the slick digits pushed passed the ring of muscle with far less trouble than the first time. The motion was impossibly familiar, finding the source of pleasure with only the slightest of search.

Van's eyes shut tightly as his back arched, his hands tightening convulsively on the other boy's body. He tried to swallow the cry that came, and managed it the first time but not the second, as his body took over, pushing consciousness to the back. His hips jerked, seeking greater contact with that intruding touch that brought such a intense sensation of pleasure that he could do little but surrender to it.

The paler boy had flushed again, feeling a heat under his skin at the sight and sounds. The pleasant burn once again intensifying to a maddening level, just from the *sight* of the other boy. He could only imagine.... "How far?" he managed to ask, breathing hard. A third finger had joined the other two as he asked.

The discomfort of being stretched was countered by the sensations of pleasure bursting against his insides. Van heard the words almost without hearing at first. They evoked sudden, very clear pictures in his mind and his eyes snapped open wildly. He swallowed something that would have sounded too much like a whimper and forced words past his teeth. "All... the way," he managed, hoping desperately it was the right answer.

Dilandau watched a moment, before removing his fingers, his hands worked quickly on a second small container, and pouring the contents into his palm. His eyes slid shut for the briefest of moments as his own hand wrapped around his length spreading the slick substance across it. He looked again at Van, but didn't ask again. "Turn over," he said, one hand at Van's side coaxing the movement.

Van's eyes snapped shut tightly a second time and then opened quickly, his body shuddering as he rolled over, finding his knees beneath him. Swallowing several times, he braced his upper body on his hands and then tossed his hair back suddenly, looking over his shoulder, his expression a combination of intense anticipation and growing need.

Dilandau didn't wait any longer. One hand wrapped around Van's erection again, slick fingers sliding over the flesh, adding a new sensation to the old, as the boy pushed within Van, at a slow but unwavering pace, stopping when the albino's cooler thighs met the back of Van's.

A soft, strangled sound came from Van's throat, and his back arched a bit more as he was invaded. There was more discomfort, but suddenly his body seemed to accept the intrusion, his muscles relaxing little by little, as the lubricant eased the passage further. His mind went south so completely that he lost words, knowing only that he was joined, taken, and that there was impossibly something more, something very close.

Dilandau had stilled completely, the instinct and pleasure was overwhelming. Almost shakily, one hand found Van's shoulder, as the boy pulled out just slightly before thrusting inward again, managing somehow to take himself deeper.

Everything inside became liquid heat, as the passage moved against something there, already sensitized. Van growled, then bit his lip, and as he felt the withdrawal, and then the return, his muscles moved on their own, pushing him back against the other boy. He knew nothing about what was happening, that would come later, only felt the grip on his shoulder, the hand around his aching flesh, and the invasion, and knowing only that he wanted more.

The movement below Dilandau was enough to snap the last restraint he'd held over himself. He leaned forwardly slightly, and started a deep harder rhythm in time with the movement of his hand. The heat around him and below him created a sensitivity that made the slightest pass of skin against skin nearly the same intoxicating feeling as the sounds that came counterpoint to his own.

The increased rhythm, the power, the combinations of sensations that seemed to blur into a cloud of heat and pleasure that both surrounded and penetrated him, sent Van into a spiral, his body moving against the other, a deep shudder beginning to overtake him fully, leaving him helpless to do anything but feel it as it swept through him. He was unconscious of a sudden cry torn from his throat, unconscious of a sudden tensing of every muscle, tightening him around the other boy, and wholly unconscious when the skin of his back suddenly tensed and melted, white wings pushing out, beating, feathers dropping around the two joined in the exploding heat.

To the other boy, it seemed everything happened at once, the feeling of the other's passion on his hand, the constriction around himself, pulling him down along the same brink and depriving him of the ability to even breath until it had past, as if the same constriction had wrapped around his lungs. The sudden blurred appearance of white didn't register for heartbeats as his own body surrendered.

It was like falling, like falling from a great height, yet at the same time being held tightly, and Van sagged in that hold, trusting it instinctively, even as his wings folded, brushing softly against the body behind. He felt completed, in a way he could only remember once before, and yet somehow it was different. A thought drifted randomly through his mind as he sagged towards to the floor... something about being through fire... it burned but somehow fulfilled at the same time...

The sliding motion brought the pale boy back to his senses. His eyes only widened minutely at the realization of wings, before he arms had reached around the other boy. Pulling free as carefully as he could manage, he sat back, pulling the Draconian boy next to him. His mind only vaguely connecting a sense of distorted deja vu in the gesture.

Van relaxed into the arms that held him, turning to wrap his own, and then his wings as well, around the other boy. His eyes were heavy lidded, but flickering open, seeking those garnet jewels of his lover instinctively as he settled against the albino.

Dilandau's gaze was diverted at the moment, eyes tracing along the length of the wings. Without the blood staining them, they were oddly luminescent. One hand slid up the other's back almost hesitantly as if half expected them to disappear. When the smooth ridges of normal feathers met his fingers he finally looked toward the other boy. The only expression that followed was an upturn of the corner if his thin lips and a shrug. "Still my." he said indistinctly.

Van sighed deeply, reaching up to trace a line along the other boy's jaw. "And my. Twice my."

Dilandau leaned just slightly into the touch. The usual reservations that he held himself with had disappeared somewhere along the night and he couldn't work up any desire to look for them. Not when this was so pleasant. He looked around briefly before smirking. "I could be wrong about this, but I remember making some protest about sleeping on floors."

Van nodded, but his body was too languid at the moment to do anything about it. His limbs felt like water, only enough strength to hold the other boy against him. His wings... his wings felt oddly strong and without really considering it, spread and beat in the small space, lifting the two of them only a little... only enough, furling again as they settled onto the hard mattress. Van settled on his side against the other boy, and one wing opened enough to cover them both with a brush of the softest, warmest living covering.

The other boy had settled without protest watching Van's actions through heavy lidded eyes. "That's one way to do things," he murmured, the remnants of a smile still lingering.

Van pressed a soft kiss against the corner of Dilandau's mouth. He could feel himself slipping towards a deeper relaxation. But before he let the velvet darkness rise, there was something he needed to try to say.

"I didn't mean... leave the *room*... before..."

Dilandau looked at the other boy. The comprehension of what was meant seemed to come slowly to the Captain. He nodded slightly. "Neither did I. Not if I can help it." The boy closed his eyes again, a slight mumble of irritation laced with indignation, though the only words Van could make out of the small sleepy tirade was. "....a year..."

Van's arms tightened, even as he closed his eyes and began to surrender to his body's lethargy and exhaustion. The only true miracle would be if he could wake up with both of his lovers somehow, and it wasn't likely. He realized silently that he was truly and utterly doomed never to feel quite complete. It wasn't enough, however, to shadow an unconscious flame of joy that seemed to have taken residence somewhere in the most guarded recesses of his heart. Somehow the more unbalanced things got, the more they seemed to be nearing something he didn't understand, but which called to him as nothing else ever had.

Surrendering again, and consciously, he nestled into the combined warmth of their two bodies and gave himself up to sleep.

Allen left the dining hall and made his way back to the Crusade. The crew were not expecting to see him, thinking he would probably stay in quarters in the fortress, to keep an eye on Serena... or her equivalent.

He climbed on board, noting the watch set with absently grim approval. Gaddes was finishing something on the main deck and making sure the ship would be ready to leave instantly, something he did without being told.

Seeing the distinctive gold of their Captain, Gaddes tossed the wrench he'd been holding into a metal toolbox, the light impact of the tool snapping the box's lid shut easily. The first mate quickly wiped his hands on a rag and tucked it into his back pocket before swinging down from his elevated perch on the foredeck. He affected a casual pose, leaning against the wall by the cabin door leading below deck, arms crossed and head tilted back as if the sky held more interest as his boss approached.

Allen went straight to a storage locker and pulled out a new bottle of vino. He glanced at his second. "Join me?"

Gaddes returned the glance with a grin. "I can't let you have all of the good stuff."

Allen grabbed two cups and with a slight jerk of his head, went below to an empty compartment. He placed the cups and bottle on a small table and poured, then raised his cup and drained it. Setting it down, he looked into the dully shiny surface for a moment before pouring again and repeating the action.

Gaddes had closed the door to the compartment, having followed a few steps behind, in time to watch the second drink go down. Wordlessly the first mate flipped the chair around backwards and straddled it. A quick gesture filled and downed his own cup, though not with the same speedy determination as the Captain. Blinking off the pleasant burn, he finally commented, "It's a good thing you don't do this often. Some of the boys would see it as a challenge."

Filling his cup a third time, Allen snorted softly and downed the liquid but this time he set his cup down and did not immediately refill it. Instead, he sat on the edge of the table for a moment, as the earlier evening's events replayed behind his eyes.

"I never liked the arrogant little brat," he said suddenly. "Respected, perhaps, as one respects a beast with an uncertain temper who is prone to bite. I even recall wanting to turn him over my knee a time or two and give him the flat of my sword. Every time we met, he was trying to destroy something. No honor... uncertain courage..." he stopped and poured a fourth measure into the cup, drinking more slowly this time.

Eyeing the rapidly dwindling bottle, Gaddes pulled it towards him only long enough to refill his own cup. His lips had widened into something of an amused grin at the images that came up from taking someone like Dilandau over his knee. "Don't think anyone did much," Gaddes said, swallowing a healthy amount of the red liquid. "Like him that is."

Allen shook his head. In a more subdued voice, he said, "I looked and looked for some hint of her in his eyes. Nothing. Yet somehow... I could almost feel her watching me... us... and feel her disappointment." He tossed down the rest of the drink, setting the cup down with exaggerated care.

Gaddes scowled deeply before the expression cleared a notch or two. "Went that bad huh?" he said, more than asked, in a milder tone.

Allen laughed rather grimly. "Bad enough. I can't... I don't understand what is happening. And Fanel.... Gaddes, it makes no sense. I'd have sworn his love for Serena was genuine. Yet he's... they... " he shook his head, unable to find the words for the impression he had, which he found so disturbing.

The first mate blinked a few times, as what Allen was saying managed to sink into a more coherent picture. Resolutely he finished his glass, and refilled it, taking down half of that immediately. He had the feeling he wasn't nearly as drunk as he would want to be. "I thought they hated each other," he said distinctly, focusing on the glass in front of him. "I mean usually you don't go attacking each other all over Gaea cuz of some twisted affection."

Allen snorted again, the sound harsh in his own ears. He shook his head. "They're... it's almost... it's like whatever we saw before, has somehow been reversed. I don't..." He shrugged. "I don't understand. I thought Van would be my ally in trying to get Serena back. But he seems to have accepted... how can he just accept it?" Allen finished, hitting the table with a fist.

The other man jerked a bit at the sudden violence before carefully putting his cup on the table. He folded his arms over the back of the chair and propped up his chin on them. "Way I figure it, there's not much difference between the worst of hate and the best of love," Gaddes said slowly, the drink in his veins making him much less cautious than he usually would have been. "Was a couple I knew back in my hometown. Was a right braggart and a harridan if there ever were any. Couldn't take 'em anywhere without them causing a scene. One day, the guy just stopped fighting back, and it drove the lady nuts. Not cuz she won too easy but she thought he didn't love her."

Gaddes shrugged. "Its weird. Just takes a nudge I guess."

Allen looked down at his companion. "I don't know what I am doing any more," he admitted quietly. "I'm missing too many clues. None of it makes any sense."

The first mate was silent a moment, not knowing how to respond to that. Finally he lifted himself up from the slumping perch he'd taken, and refilled his half glass as well as Allen's. "Guess it never does from the outside," he said, picking up his own cup. "Ever think of just asking them... well Van maybe. Kid's blunt to a fault sometimes."

Allen lifted the glass and drank from it. "No," he said, "I didn't think of that." He took another drink. "He looks like hell... looks like he's been to hell and back. Whatever happened with the sorcerers," Allen pronounced the word with a growl, "... disturbed him. And some have escaped it seems. Messy."

Gaddes grimaced a bit at the news, before mulling it over. "Doesn't sound normal. Thought Zaibach, for all they were rotten, were pretty thorough." He leaned back a little, the images of the city below them as the Crusade II descended, coming back to mind. "Then again, things're probably different."

"Very different," Allen said cryptically. "Yet Dornkirk's legacy lives on somehow." He finished the liquid in his cup. "We may be here longer than we'd like."

Gaddes snorted at that, taking another pull of vino. "Don't like being here to start with." Gaddes frowned. "Didn't think you'd be back tonight. I thought you'd want to at least keep close.... one way or another."

Allen grimaced. "That's the problem," he said. "I can't *get* close. I need to find another way of handling this. And quickly."

Finishing off his cup, Gaddes upended the bottle of vino over it, frowning when only a quarter of a cup's worth and a few small drops plunked into the waiting glass. "Well, treating him like her would be right out I'd imagine," he said.

Allen laughed unexpectedly. "Good call," he said. He shook his head. He regarded his second in command with a slight weariness. "How long have you been aware that your captain was a fool on occasion?"

Gaddes snorted at that. "Ain't a man who'd follow someone who's perfect, whether they know it or not." Gaddes tossed back the last of the vino, the only signs of the intoxication was a mild glossiness to his eyes but little else. "Everyone's a fool sometimes. I don't hold that against anyone, much less you."

"Now you know why I came back to the ship," Allen said wryly. He glanced at the empty bottle trying to decide if it was worth the effort to get a second one.

Instead of answering, the first mate followed Allen's stare before pushing himself up. The man disappeared a moment before returned with a travel bag Allen recognized as one Gaddes usually carried. Fishing through it, he pulled out a dark bottle. With a grin he put in on the table. "Better appreciate this," he said with something of a mock seriousness. "According to the merchant it's around 50 years old or some such nonsense. You know what they'll say for a profit..."

Allen's eyebrows went up and he examined the bottle curiously. Setting it down carefully, he said, "Hadn't you ought to save that for a proper occasion, Gaddes-kun?"

He shrugged. "Now's as good as any, unless your planning on some proper occasion. Not like I'd know one if it hit me broadside," he finished with a smirk, settling back into his seat.

Allen laughed softly. "Let's have it then," he said.

The bottle opened with the pop of old air and pressure escaping. The dark-haired man gave it a quick check to be sure the contents hadn't gone to vinegar, before pouring into both glasses generous amounts. Setting aside the bottle casually, "Don't blame me if it's no good," he grinned. "I'ven't tried it yet."

The blond swordsman raised his glass, let the scent rise, then took a solid drink.

His eyes widened and he swallowed quickly. After a moment, he said, "Not... bad!" in a slightly hoarser voice than before.

Gaddes picked up his own and taking a similar swallow before blinking hard. "Well, they do say if you let it set a few years it gets stronger," he winced, grinned and took a second, larger swallow of the vino. "They're right."

Allen chuckled and took a second drink, blinking slightly. "Ermph. So... no occasion... what about the young redhead you were so friendly with the last few months in Pallas? Not planning on settling down then?"

"Nah, we may be soft," Gaddes smirked a bit at Allen over the rim of his cup, "But we ain't likely to give this up soon. Anyways, she wasn't much my type," he finished, punctuating the statement with another drink.

Snorting softly, Allen followed suit. "Still smarting over that? So what is your type, old friend?"

The first mate screwed up his face in a petulant expression before giving the second question some consideration. "Dunno really. Blonde, rich, puts up a good fight," he said. "Don't think I could live with a wallflower. Probably why I like redheads."

Allen chuckled. "No, I can't picture you with a compliant maid," he said. "So you'd choose money over love."

"Didn't say that," Gaddes replied a little indignantly. "Just listed it as a favorable trait."

"I see," Allen replied wisely. He finished the potent liquid in his cup and set it down with concentrated precision. "Well, it's always that," he agreed. "In fact it's smarter to go for money. Love is... overrated...."

The other shrugged at that, downing his own glass. "Probably," he agreed. "Usually depends on who you ask. Lovers are pretty fond of the concept in my reckoning." He look at Allen again, leaning back unsteadily. "So what about herself anyway... the princess. She ever manage to catch a fancy or three?"

Allen laughed. "Fancy? Yes... love... not the kind she wants. Not since I realized what I was seeing in girls her age." His blue eyes unfocused slightly and a sad shadow entered them. "I'll not love again. I've wasted too much time trying to recreate the first."

"Mmm, I swear that for a week or two every time." Gaddes replied. "Figure one day I'm just going to swear off the whole she-race and get it over with." He grinned again, shrugging. "Never get around to it."

The blond swordsman nodded sagely, the movement itself giving a clue about his state of intoxication. "What's the alternative?" he lamented mournfully. "Celibacy's unattractive...."

Gaddes gave a snort of agreement, before unsteadily pouring himself a second cup. He gave a wry, if somewhat drunken smile. "So's a life with just your own five fingers," he said. "Though anything's better than celibacy. Figure that's the road to them wandering, muttering crazies you see on the streets."

Allen considered this idea. "Very likely," he pronounced. He frowned as he began to consider the last time he'd engaged in anything of a recreational nature. The frown deepened.

The first mate lifted his glass, noting the passing expressions on the Captain's unusually expressive face. "That'll probably do a world of good. Have a good casual roll," Gaddes said, satisfied with this crude wisdom before taking another drink of the powerful wine. He looked owlishly at the glass before setting it down, nearly missing the table once.

Allen sighed, privately agreeing but he thought it unlikely to happen any time soon. "It's not like I'm going to ravish some Zaibach servant girl," he said completing the thought out loud, if not entirely logically. "It used to be easier," he confided, nodding to the dark haired man seriously. He smiled at the expression on Gaddes' face, regarding his longtime friend fondly.

Gaddes mastered his surprise as best as he could seem to. "Dunno, plenty of women still seem to throw themselves at you. Still seen the old Schezar charm at work."

Allen snorted, this time in self-derision. "Oh that," he said dismissively. "Yes, and then they tell every other female they know... it's like a... a coup!" he said indignantly. "Where's the woman who'll keep her tongue, eh? Not one on Gaea, I warrant!"

"Yeah," Gaddes commiserated. "Can think of plenty better uses for it anyway."

The comment surprised a laugh out of the tall blond. He shook his head. "So can I... imagine the shock if it were known?"

The first mate snorted at that. He looked briefly at the bottle before deciding there was no way on Gaea or the Mystic Moon that he was going to be able to cork it in this state. "What that you ain't spotless like all of us mortals? Heh, I'd hate to ruin their pretty fancies."

Allen shook his head. "Never been spotless," he murmured. "Far from. It's all so..." he gestured, hitting the open bottle with the back of his hand and rocking it off base. It would have taken a miracle to save the innocent flask... a miracle or the reflexes of one of the best swordsmen on Gaea, who caught it before it could spill and set it carefully on its base. Allen frowned at the bottle. He sighed and slid from his seat on the table's edge to his feet, swaying slightly, steadying himself with a hand on the table edge.

"Good stuff..." he remarked absently.

Refusing to be, even this particularly soused, surprised at his Captain's reflexes, Gaddes managed to get his grip around his own glass, finish off the contents in a snap, and turned it upside-down to cover the top of the bottle, in a vain hope the gesture would preserve it. "Worth the price I figure," he replied, pushing himself to his feet. He seemed to blink at the room, and fall back heavily to his chair, before saying to himself. "On second thought, you go on ahead. Heh, the door's looking too far away."

Allen shook his head and reached down, pulling the dark haired man to his feet and draping one of Gaddes' arms over his shoulder. "Think I'd leave you here?" he muttered.

Leaning heavily on the other man, he shook his head. "Trying not to think at all. S' the point of getting drunk."

Allen chuckled, helping his companion towards the door. His cabin was across the narrow walkway and he pushed the door open, kicking it closed behind them absently and setting his burden down on the edge of the flat bunk.

He pulled off his swordbelt, hanging it on its peg after only two tries, and sat down himself, feeling tensions, long collected, draining out of him like water through a cracked vessel.

Gaddes shook his head, propping his elbows on both knees. "Gonna be one hell of a hangover," he lamented, then the dour expression turned into a smirk. "Ah well, worry about it when it comes."

Allen grinned and then placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, giving him a slight push. He waited for the result.

The other predictably sprawled backwards, one foot kicking out as he went down on the bunk, and coming up with some inventive curses about the other man's lineage.

Chuckling with a slightly satisfied air, Allen looked down and said, "Shut up. And thanks. You're a good friend."

Gaddes scratched his chin smirking up at the blond swordsman wryly. "Eh," he mumbled. "Just don't go spreading it around. I do have a rep to maintain."

Allen nodded seriously. He made a motion with his finger across his lips. "Take it to the grave," he said, then slid down onto his back, hair spilling everywhere. He yawned and his eyes began slowly to close.

A little too woozy to notice anything out of the ordinary, Gaddes simply took a handful of golden hair that had fallen over him and tossed the length back towards the swordsman. "Dunno how you manage that stuff," he mumbled.

"Practice..." Allen mumbled absently as his eyes closed completely. One leg was half off the bed but he didn't seem to care.

Gaddes made something of an agreeing noise before stretching out in a sprawling manner and taking his share of the mattress. The warmth from the vino and the unusual companion kept the chill of the Zaibach night air away.

THE END OF PART 34!

Twisted Fortune - Part 35

Twisted Fortune - Index