Settling In

[thatched]

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.

Comments

[thatched]

Thatch folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. Leave it to Marco to have a reason for doing something outside of...well... what Thatch had done. He thought about it, though, trying to put it into words that didn't sound utterly pathetic.

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.

[fierybluebird]

Marco did understand. Intimately. So he was extra relieved that Namur had come along to help give Thatch some of that track back. He quietly headbutted his best friend and ruffled his feathers into a puffball. "Idiot." But not for the reason Thatch probably thought. "That's not something to be ashamed of. Isn't that why most outsiders are here? At least you did a lot of good with it. Teaching. I just stuck to missions. Something I knew from home." He ruffled his feathers again and rolled around onto his back to proudly display the tattoo. "Like I said, I just wanted to run off and find some cave somewhere and hole up." But that would have been running away, and he promised not to. A long time ago. "Supposedly there's a phoenix GF that did that. I can't say I'm surprised. I want to meet it though."

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."

[thatched]

"I was mostly tired of seeing these stupid kids dying." Tactics was an art. Knowing when to go, when to retreat, where to hit hard and where to slip the knife between the ribs and twisting. He crossed his arms over Marco and snorted a feathery yellow hair frond away from his nose.

"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?"

[fierybluebird]

A flat look. And then Marco just bit the hat right off Thatch's head with his beak and shook it about to mess up Thatch's hair. "Only if you want me to blackmail you with stories of your youth, yoi. I am yours, but you're mine too don't forget." Marco settled back down and snuggled Thatch's neck again. "You're cute, eh. That excuse is as old as Pops. And then some." He flicked his tail about happily though. "But it'll have to do."

[thatched]

His hair was still pulled back from the shower so Marco didn't mess up a thing that he cared about, though he did put a hand up on reflex--before chuckling and resting it back on Marco's chest, stroking his blue throat with the pad of his thumb.

"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."

[fierybluebird]

Marco shivered in pure delight in spite of himself. Everything about it was so familiar, so right, from Thatch's soft expression, to the stroke of his thumb, and the offer for breakfast. He was being taken care of again, and that hadn't happened since Thatch died. He flicked his tail happily and lightly pet Thatch with it. "I'm really glad you're here." It wasn't just that he was happy, he felt a bit more whole again. The hollowness that had been threatening to swallow him inside seemed to dissipate just with Thatch's presence. He still feared it was a lie. That his brain had finally snapped and he'd retreated into a part of insanity to protect himself after Toby's disappearance, but if that was the case, he'd better make the best of it.

He snuggled Thatch again and closed his eyes, settling down to sleep. "Goodnight. I love you."

[thatched]

"Love you, too," he murmured, stroking his fingers in the yellow flame as he watched Marco fall asleep. It was strange seeing this after so long. Especially after he wasn't sure if he'd see anything ever again. Anyone ever again. But for right now Marco was here, on his chest just like the old days, breathing slow and deep--

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.