Author: Trilies
Genre: Angst, Romance
Word length: 1009
Sypnosis: It's amazing what secrets and words slip out when one is completely and utterly smashed beyond belief. Even more amazing still when nothing is remembered
Yaoi/Yuri/Pairings: Zexion/Tony Stark
Notes: Watching these two in a pairing is kind of depressingly funny.
What You Can Only Say in a Dream
"I want to show you something," Zexion says one night, voice light and relaxed. It's one of those nights where they've accidentally had too much to drink, an event which isn't as common as people would like to think. Tony can barely stand up, but that doesn't matter to Zexion. Smooth, small hands are tugging at his, pulling him up from the couch. Tumbling forward, he has to sling his arms around the shorter man's shoulder. A soft laugh flows past the crook of his neck, and then Tony is being dragged out the front door.
A thought clumsily trips through the synapses of his brain before falling out of his mouth. "I don't think we're 'posed to drive," he slurs, almost tripping over his own feet. Or maybe they're Zexion's feet. Can't tell.
"Not driving," Zexion calls back to him, fingers warm and slim over Tony's own.
A stumble and a blink later, and the two of them are kneeling in cool California grass. Zexion is leaning against one of his arms, still, silent. For a second, Tony thinks he's asleep, but then Zexion sighs. There's an almost childish tone to the man's voice.
"Illusions are such odd things, huh? So difficult to understand and master..." His hands gesture through the night air, tracing lines and formulas in indefinite patterns. "I wanted to learn how they worked. That way the others would smile at me..."
None of it makes much sense, but Tony can only think how strange and new this side of Zexion is. The expression on his normally stoic or sly face is almost wistful and something inside squeezes Tony's heart. Somehow, Zexion looks... human, a trait Tony hadn't realized he had been lacking. Feeling awkward and drunk off his a**, he just wraps his arm around Zexion's shoulders; another strange and new thing that feels pretty nice. Eyes pleasantly hazy, Zexion stares up at him in curiosity before pressing him down onto the grass. "Let me show you," he whispers, and the world shatters into a prism of colors.
For a second, Tony thinks he must be on drugs, must have had something in their drinks, but then it all clears. The shimmering colors gain definite shape, smooth curves. Blinking, he can only stare as a butterfly composed entirely of light lands on his nose. Zexion's breath is passing by his neck while his nose presses against Tony's jaw. He seems rather content, Tony reflects belatedly as he props himself up on one elbow. His other arm is wrapped around Zexion still as he stares at the wondrous sight. "Good lord," he says softly as a delicate insect of vermilion lands on one of his knuckles. "Never thought... I'd have an acid trip."
His friend doesn't answer, and after a while, Tony easily decides it doesn't matter. Laying back down, he just enjoys the moment. Hallucination, dream, drunk - whatever it is, it's nice. Because it's so nice, and because Tony is pretty damn sure it's not happening anyway, he finds himself making the stupidest and worst decision he could make:
"I think I love you."
Right into Zexion's hair, words clumsy with alcohol. The tiny part of Tony's brain which still retains some amounts of sanity and common sense could just about strangle him. But then Zexion is snickering into his skin and just curls up to him even more like a lazy cat. It almost seems forced, fake, yet Zexion is humming slightly. "I think you're drunk," he yawns in reply. "Nn... should get to sleep."
"Probably," Tony agrees, telling himself he's just going to blink his eyes a few times before getting them back inside...
And then he's out like a light.
------
There are two different pains to greet Tony when he wakes up: one is the ever wonderful feeling of a hangover, and the other is due to a small hand thumping into his ribcage. With a groan, he rolls over and attempts to bury his head underneath the pillow; the hand moves away, as does the warm body which had been pressed against his. Cloth rustles as some one slips away from the bed. A door opens, and doesn't shut. When Tony finally pushes himself up onto his elbows, he spots Zexion walking through the doorway.
The younger man seems almost nervous, although Tony nearly misses that observation. That's because he still has his hangover, he recognizes the concoction Zexion has in the two glasses he holds, and, of course, Zexion is a damn good liar. Nonetheless, Tony catches the tiny flinch of Zexion's hand when he hands him a glass. It's probably just from the hangover or last night, Tony dismisses as he takes the glass appreciatively.
Oh, how pleasant it would be if that little glass could instantly cure a hangover. However, that's not the case. This is just something the two of them created a while back. At best, it dulls the pain a bit. So, hoping for the best, he swallows it down.
"We should never do that again," Tony mutters.
"Yet we inevitably will," Zexion answers dryly. Because he has his head in his hands, Tony doesn't see how Zexion frowns slightly, staring at him in something that almost resembles regret. Quickly, he smooths over his expression, asking nonchalantly, "I don't suppose you remember any of the events which transpired last night?"
"How can you talk like that the morning after?" Tony grumbles, even as he's trying to figure out the blurs of color and noise which represent his jumbled memories. Nothing makes sense, especially the further along he goes. All that's even vaguely clear are bright colors and something about Zexion... "Did I say something stupid?"
More silence. Dropping one hand, Tony glances over at Zexion. His face is unreadable, but his bangs even messier than before. Combine that with how he holds his own half-full glass with both hands, he somehow looks... vulnerable; that's definitely never a word Tony has thought could be associated with the other. Finally, Zexion just leans against the wall and closes his eyes. His next words carry the weight of exhaustion in them.
"No. No, you didn't."
