Holding On
Sep. 5th, 2023 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seleniasTitle: Holding On
Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI
Characters/pairing: Cid/Otto, one-sided
Rating: T
Word Count: 922
Notes: Prompt fill for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ffxvi_kink_meme here. But you should go read this gorgeous fill instead.
-
Cid had followed him from where they shored up at the port to the inn high up at the hill. It was pissing rain and both were divested of their patience. Cid had hoped for a dry bed and the stuffiness of a real mattress at his back but that hope fled quick when Otto dug through his coin purse and descended back into the tavern below, the sound of laughter and cheers bounding up the stairs from men and women both. Their pursuits, Cid reasoned, were pleasure. Otto’s was death. Cid’s were unwanted concern; he shoved his wet boots back on from where he’d tucked them under the bed and steeled himself to measure up.
Otto’s words were slurred where he buried his head in his arms. Cid leaned against the counter and combed his fingers through his damp hair and listened.
“It’d be easier if he had died,” Otto murmured. “Merciful, at least.” He scrubbed at his eyes with a closed fist. “There’d be something to bury at least. None of this — none of this shit with not ever knowing and all the wondering.”
“And what if he’s living and doing well for himself — you could be wishing him a death he’s not in need of.” Cid slid the tankard between his hands. This corner of the room was dusty and poorly swept and the lights from the crystal chandeliers did little to illuminate their company. All corners of the Twins were fraught with travelers and no one spared them a glance save the barmaid who’d kept their cups well and truly full. They stank of brine and sweat and now of the watered down liquor from the commoner’s menu.
“Fuck off,” Otto slurred. He rolled his jaw in his hands. “I mean what I say. What’s a life worth living that ain’t yours?”
Cid knocked him in the knee with his own. “Aye, I agree. And I’ll remind you we’ll put things right.”
Otto shook his head. His eyes were glassy and for not the first nor last time Cid pondered the absurdity of a power that only shackled him. “You can’t undo this.”
“No, of course not.” Cid said. “But I could spare someone else.”
“What for? You have a complex now?”
Cid stubbed his cigar out on the table and looked him dead in the eye. “Aye, you,” he answered. “Your son.” Otto shook his head, steel eyes furious. “I’m dead serious,” Cid repeated, firm. “You were wronged by a people hellbent on serving a cause that keeps their own hands clean. They can fuck off and I’ll them so.”
“Just leave me be. There’s no helping this. I can’t stand your promises.” Otto fell apart quietly in the chair. With a nervous glance from the barmaid, Cid resigned himself and stood.
“I’ll take dinner in our room later, if you like,” he said. The woman nodded, dark hair falling across her shoulders. She swept their tankards away and the gil from Otto’s warm pockets.
“I wish your friend well,” she said. “He’s a broody one.”
“He’s no bother for me,” Cid replied.
The mass of Otto was heavy and warm against his side. They were no longer young men fit to sail without recompense. Cid hauled him upright and made for the stairs, the wood groaning beneath them. Otto’s breath was stale and his beard flecked with salty tears. He’d be embarrassed in the morning when he woke to retch; Cid would blow smoke in his face to spite him but faithfully hold the bucket to spare them both the hassle of service fees.
Their room was cool from the open windows when he shoved the heavy door shut behind him and Cid deposited Otto on the dark covers with a grunt. His face was red and puffy and he looked ten years younger, like the swelling had added the baby fat of their youth back to his bones. Cid could still easily picture their shared boyish grins from across the deck, when they’d been seafaring men passing tales beneath the endless stretch of blue above and below. Back then, Cid had only known one master, and now he knew one he’d go to war for without command.
“You should just leave me,” Otto mumbled. He dragged his legs up on the bed and sprawled backward. “Go back to being Lord Commander. Go back to Waloed. Get your due.”
“Not without my right hand man I can’t,” Cid said. “And I suspect the King wouldn’t like a man as witty as you.” Otto didn’t respond. He turned his head to the side. The waning moon cast silver streaks across the wetness on his face. He closed his eyes and said no more.
With a sigh, Cid unlaced Otto’s greased boots and slipped them from his feet with a heel in his palm. He repeated the motion then flung both boots under the edge of the bed by their laces. He undid the buttons at Otto’s collar so he wouldn’t strangle himself in sleep and then stopped, a hand along the heat of his chest. What was one more want on a list of them? This one was easy.
Cid drew himself over the crisp quilt and leveled a wet kiss against Otto’s temple, mouthing an apology against his skin. Cid smoothed damp hair back with a gloveless hand and stepped away. Otto’s eyes watched him retreat then returned to stillness.
The vision took root.
Otto’s hurts, much later, would forever have to contend with one more.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI
Characters/pairing: Cid/Otto, one-sided
Rating: T
Word Count: 922
Notes: Prompt fill for the
ffxvi_kink_meme here. But you should go read this gorgeous fill instead.-
Cid had followed him from where they shored up at the port to the inn high up at the hill. It was pissing rain and both were divested of their patience. Cid had hoped for a dry bed and the stuffiness of a real mattress at his back but that hope fled quick when Otto dug through his coin purse and descended back into the tavern below, the sound of laughter and cheers bounding up the stairs from men and women both. Their pursuits, Cid reasoned, were pleasure. Otto’s was death. Cid’s were unwanted concern; he shoved his wet boots back on from where he’d tucked them under the bed and steeled himself to measure up.
Otto’s words were slurred where he buried his head in his arms. Cid leaned against the counter and combed his fingers through his damp hair and listened.
“It’d be easier if he had died,” Otto murmured. “Merciful, at least.” He scrubbed at his eyes with a closed fist. “There’d be something to bury at least. None of this — none of this shit with not ever knowing and all the wondering.”
“And what if he’s living and doing well for himself — you could be wishing him a death he’s not in need of.” Cid slid the tankard between his hands. This corner of the room was dusty and poorly swept and the lights from the crystal chandeliers did little to illuminate their company. All corners of the Twins were fraught with travelers and no one spared them a glance save the barmaid who’d kept their cups well and truly full. They stank of brine and sweat and now of the watered down liquor from the commoner’s menu.
“Fuck off,” Otto slurred. He rolled his jaw in his hands. “I mean what I say. What’s a life worth living that ain’t yours?”
Cid knocked him in the knee with his own. “Aye, I agree. And I’ll remind you we’ll put things right.”
Otto shook his head. His eyes were glassy and for not the first nor last time Cid pondered the absurdity of a power that only shackled him. “You can’t undo this.”
“No, of course not.” Cid said. “But I could spare someone else.”
“What for? You have a complex now?”
Cid stubbed his cigar out on the table and looked him dead in the eye. “Aye, you,” he answered. “Your son.” Otto shook his head, steel eyes furious. “I’m dead serious,” Cid repeated, firm. “You were wronged by a people hellbent on serving a cause that keeps their own hands clean. They can fuck off and I’ll them so.”
“Just leave me be. There’s no helping this. I can’t stand your promises.” Otto fell apart quietly in the chair. With a nervous glance from the barmaid, Cid resigned himself and stood.
“I’ll take dinner in our room later, if you like,” he said. The woman nodded, dark hair falling across her shoulders. She swept their tankards away and the gil from Otto’s warm pockets.
“I wish your friend well,” she said. “He’s a broody one.”
“He’s no bother for me,” Cid replied.
The mass of Otto was heavy and warm against his side. They were no longer young men fit to sail without recompense. Cid hauled him upright and made for the stairs, the wood groaning beneath them. Otto’s breath was stale and his beard flecked with salty tears. He’d be embarrassed in the morning when he woke to retch; Cid would blow smoke in his face to spite him but faithfully hold the bucket to spare them both the hassle of service fees.
Their room was cool from the open windows when he shoved the heavy door shut behind him and Cid deposited Otto on the dark covers with a grunt. His face was red and puffy and he looked ten years younger, like the swelling had added the baby fat of their youth back to his bones. Cid could still easily picture their shared boyish grins from across the deck, when they’d been seafaring men passing tales beneath the endless stretch of blue above and below. Back then, Cid had only known one master, and now he knew one he’d go to war for without command.
“You should just leave me,” Otto mumbled. He dragged his legs up on the bed and sprawled backward. “Go back to being Lord Commander. Go back to Waloed. Get your due.”
“Not without my right hand man I can’t,” Cid said. “And I suspect the King wouldn’t like a man as witty as you.” Otto didn’t respond. He turned his head to the side. The waning moon cast silver streaks across the wetness on his face. He closed his eyes and said no more.
With a sigh, Cid unlaced Otto’s greased boots and slipped them from his feet with a heel in his palm. He repeated the motion then flung both boots under the edge of the bed by their laces. He undid the buttons at Otto’s collar so he wouldn’t strangle himself in sleep and then stopped, a hand along the heat of his chest. What was one more want on a list of them? This one was easy.
Cid drew himself over the crisp quilt and leveled a wet kiss against Otto’s temple, mouthing an apology against his skin. Cid smoothed damp hair back with a gloveless hand and stepped away. Otto’s eyes watched him retreat then returned to stillness.
The vision took root.
Otto’s hurts, much later, would forever have to contend with one more.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-10-21 03:52 pm (UTC)'He’d be embarrassed in the morning when he woke to retch; Cid would blow smoke in his face to spite him but faithfully hold the bucket to spare them both the hassle of service fees' and 'What was one more want on a list of them? This one was easy' absolutely wrecked my heart.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-10-23 06:50 am (UTC)