Thatch (
thatched) wrote in
concoursec2013-06-17 05:57 pm
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Entry tags:
Settling In
Characters: Thatch and Marco
Location: Thatch's Room
Rating: PG-13 for cursing and bromance
Open/Closed/Finished: Closed
Summary: On the eve of the battle, Thatch finds some comfort with an old friend.
Thatch rested his arms on the back of the too small tub, and tilted his head back to blow a stream of smoke to the ceiling. Man, what a day. He hadn't expected to be tossed into a maelstrom the minute he stepped into Balamb-- and the battle wasn't even part of it. Well, battles never were. They came and went. You fought them, you lost some, you won some, you mourned, you celebrated.
Nakama, on the other hand. Marco on the other hand. Shit. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took another draw of the precious rose scented tobacco. Rare in Trabia, but not Balamb, thank everything. Not that he was much of a smoker but he liked to indulge once in a while and he had been running out of indulgences.
He stretched and cursed as he stubbed his toe against the wall, kicking it in frustration. Damned tiny bathroom. Damned tiny everything. He needed to commission a new tub, a new bed and desk that he could actually fit under because everyone seemed to be in the size toothpick and under.
Not that he could complain, Namur was in a much smaller boat and had to share one besides. He closed his eyes and ran more hot water in the bath to stir up the lavender bubbles and relaxed again, leaning his head against the wall.
If he knew his Marco.
And he did.
The sparkly chicken would be here soon.
Location: Thatch's Room
Rating: PG-13 for cursing and bromance
Open/Closed/Finished: Closed
Summary: On the eve of the battle, Thatch finds some comfort with an old friend.
Thatch rested his arms on the back of the too small tub, and tilted his head back to blow a stream of smoke to the ceiling. Man, what a day. He hadn't expected to be tossed into a maelstrom the minute he stepped into Balamb-- and the battle wasn't even part of it. Well, battles never were. They came and went. You fought them, you lost some, you won some, you mourned, you celebrated.
Nakama, on the other hand. Marco on the other hand. Shit. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took another draw of the precious rose scented tobacco. Rare in Trabia, but not Balamb, thank everything. Not that he was much of a smoker but he liked to indulge once in a while and he had been running out of indulgences.
He stretched and cursed as he stubbed his toe against the wall, kicking it in frustration. Damned tiny bathroom. Damned tiny everything. He needed to commission a new tub, a new bed and desk that he could actually fit under because everyone seemed to be in the size toothpick and under.
Not that he could complain, Namur was in a much smaller boat and had to share one besides. He closed his eyes and ran more hot water in the bath to stir up the lavender bubbles and relaxed again, leaning his head against the wall.
If he knew his Marco.
And he did.
The sparkly chicken would be here soon.
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"And went over to Gregoria." Marine Base, yes. Finest ladies in the land, hells yes. They'd black cloaked and everything. It was kind of delicious even if certain commanders couldn't stop cackling about it.
"And we got into this drinking competition." Which he may have initiated. "And Pops saw this really foxy lady leave and stuck his head out the window to call out to her." He took a moment to swallow back the laughter.
"And it turns out, she was a marine captain with the kochin kochin fruit and she petrified his mustache so he couldn't get his head back in the window. So it turns out it was a trap and we were in a room full of marines with the strongest man in the world with his head stuck in the window." He was laughing now, half crying at the same time.
"I thought Izo would have a heart attack and we were all panicking to hell and Pops was still trying to flirt" his voice squeaked a little with the laughter. "...flirt with her though called it reasoning and she was just getting madder and madder, and we had to hold off the guys in the room who were trying to call for backup and Vista had to scale the roof so he could come down and cut Pops' mustache free.
And then hahaha then it turns out that one of the guys bucking for vice admiral was there and by the time we got free there were thirteen cannons aimed at us and because Pops was way too damn drunk to fight without leveling the whole town, we flatfooted the whole way and burned the bridge behind us so they couldn't get over. And it started to rain.
So fourteen of us were all huddled in this ditch covered with mud and Izo was trying to strangle me"
He was laughing too hard to continue now and couldn't seem to stop.
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But it was nice to see Thatch laughing that hard again. Even if they had gone to a marine base and then lied about it those fuckers! They deserved to be covered in mud and strangled and rained upon and everything else! Well maybe not Vista, who at least had the good sense to cut off Pops' mustache. And if they had told Marco? Marco would have plucked off the rest in punishment to make it stick....
Well.
Clearly the lesson had stuck a little. It was decades ago after all!
"You deserved it," Marco gave a small birdie growl, but he was amused by it all. Good Izou. Dependable at least. Even if the others were being idiots, Izou was the one ally Marco could count on to come to him and get Marco put an end to some of the reckless idiocy. Maybe it was no small wonder he'd wound up marrying someone who could have been Izou's protege. They must have bribed the sixteenth commander with a lot to keep him quiet. Though, not after the fact. Afterwards they probably all universally agreed that Marco didn't need to have the birdie attack. And they were right. Even decades later, it took focus to get his heart to stop racing with worry.
He gave a small birdie chuckle, "Izou in mud... It's a wonder he didn't kill you. Was he wearing his best silk kimono too?"
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"Izou has so many best kimonos it's hard to tell." He chuckled and smoothed his fingers along the underside of Marco's beak. "Anyway, after Pops had saved me from the enraged okama, he asked us not to tell so we spent the night with an old friend of mine." Granted he'd only known her about a day and a half but they were old friends by that time. He'd made sure of it. And made sure to thank her thoroughly before they left.
"But don't fret about it, Marco." And since he knew the phoenix was going to anyway... "If Sparks had been there, it would have been worse."
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"So what made you turn merc here, anyway?" he asked, absently petting Marco's hair flames. "Why not just keep on being a pirate?"
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Unfortunately those didn't seem to exist.
But in the end, Marco was Marco and understood him better than anyone anyway.
"I had nothing else to do. I wanted to be with people." He shrugged. "I didn't know anything about this place." And he'd been desperate enough to cling to the first thing that he reasonably understood. "Afterward, I guess I just decided to keep going in a straight line until something stopped me."
Or he died of old age...Which had looked increasingly likely the longer he'd been here with no discernible way of getting home in sight.
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He gave Thatch a sly birdie grin. "Most people do think I'm a GF in this form you know. Want to help me beguile the gullible ones? You can tell them I'm yours and they'll stop trying to catch me."
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"You are mine. Maybe I'll tell them you're just a glittery turkey. That'll turn the off fast enough. Or just a pretty parrot. Marky wanna cracker?"
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"Seriously, though, if people do try to pull that, I'll talk to them. If they can't tell a phoenix from a normal GF they have a bigger problem than just being greedy." He took off his hat completely and flung it onto the bedside table carelessly before pulling the blanket over them both.
"Go to sleep now, Feathers. Tomorrow I'll make coffee and eggs and maybe we can even reel Namur in. I think I have a worm or two."
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He snuggled Thatch again and closed his eyes, settling down to sleep. "Goodnight. I love you."
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Thatch matched his breathing, watching him as time slipped by and he slipped into dreaming, eyes twitching behind close lids, tail raising and then lowering again. Thatch rested a hand on that long blue neck and closed his eyes himself in a long sigh.
In that darkness, tinged by the faint blue light, there were no worries or fears-- not even a prickling feeling of being watched skipping over his skin. There was just peaceful dark, the warm weight of a content nakama, and sleep.