psychoshenanigans | Nor // AU

Entry tags:

irahl,
robin

Nor // AU

[everyone's pretty thrilled that the two odd-men-out have finally been sent up to the surface for an extended mission. the underground world gets a little peace and quiet, and the boys get to stretch their legs. the sniper is much easier to assuage when there's a sun in the sky and more than cell walls to keep him occupied.

they've found a little bar in which to bide their time; shoved between a smoke shop and a greasy restaurant, it's a prime spot for anyone who wants to kick back after their shitty day job. it's dark, it's noisy. smells kind of like sweat and the cigarettes everyone's smoking just out back. someone is almost always blocking the hallway to the restrooms with their oblivious mass. but the neon signs reflect back through the lines of glasses and bottles pretty nice, and the booze is cheap if you order the right things, and there are enough chatty pricks around to keep Robin from getting bored. Irahl, for the most part, has had the luxury of getting plastered in peace.]

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[Robin rolls back into place, squishing up against Irahl's folded-up arm. he's got a big grin on his face, none of that smirking he usually does around the underground. here, he's more like a... kid, like a dumb twelve-year-old.

but a happy, dumb twelve-year-old, at least.]

It's fun! This is fun. This is how people have fun.

[he reaches out--with a dexterity he should not rightfully have--to boop Irahl on the nose.]

[Irahl's only reply to that is a skeptical grunt, and to lift his free arm to swat at the hand coming in close to his face.

but it's too late. like way too late. Robin is long gone by the time Irahl focuses his eyes and waves an annoyed hand between them.]

[it is only Robin's blatant inebriation that keeps him from laughing at Irahl. the sniper has several bottles' worth of alcohol to thank for the fact that Robin won't hold this against him for the rest of his life.]

Wow.

[still, that won't stop him from some slightly-delayed reaction. he makes a face.]

You are wasted, buddy. I'm gonna turn off the light.

[Irahl's endearing state earns him a shoulder pat, before Robin crawls over him to reach for the light on his bedside table. any suggestive posing he manages is actually a complete accident--more the result of his natural state of being than any actual attempts at seduction.]

[he'd picked his head up off the bed by a couple of inches in the process of attempting to defend himself, so his only answer to that accusation... is to just drop his head back down with another grunt.

yeah, he might be a little bit wasted.

though, he's not too far gone to not react to having someone clamber over him. another grunt, which turns into an annoyed groan, and he shrugs against the weight.]

You're heavy.

If you can wear like a million pounds of armor, you can deal with me.

[a million pounds of armor doesn't usually rest notably near Irahl's package, nor does it obliviously move against him as it tries (in vain) to get the stupid light to turn off.]

Hah, I got it-- [the bulb flickers off, and then on again. he drops some more weight on Irahl in a frustrated huff.] --Shit, nevermind. These things are hard. Lemme... [something from the lamp starts squeaking as he turns it. he's just unscrewing the switch now.] Oh, what the fuck. Why does this always happen.

[he screws the switch back in. scoots a little further so that he can actually get a good grip on it.] Why do we even have these lights, still? This is the future. Why are these lights still a thing.

[for a minute, he is notably quiet.

he is being very patient. biting his tongue and waiting for this to be over with.

but even he has his limits.

all at once, his arm snaps out, blindly, for the lamp. he almost punches the thing right over. but he manages to grope quickly enough to find and steady the lamp by the switch, twist it, and the thing turns off with a decisive pop.]

[he does make a vaguely startled sound, like a half-hearted yell, when the lamp is suddenly nearly punched out of his grip. he remains frozen there, tense and surprised, for several seconds after the danger has actually passed.

...and then he swivels his head, unhelpfully, to stare down at Irahl. this question sounds especially drunk, for some reason.]

You can do that, but you couldn't stop me getting your nose...?

[he's sure whatever Robin is saying is important, but he's certainly not listening.

he's too busy playing another round of the try to drunkenly escape out from under Robin game. shrugging turns into awkward shoving, as he at least tries to turn away from Robin's weight.]

[he makes a small noise of protest as someone with very long arms starts shoving at his torso and shoulders--and maybe his face, once, which gets a more pronounced noise of protest. he grabs one of Irahl's arms in retaliation, pinning it down to the bed next to them with both of his hands.

which leaves Robin pretty close to Irahl, with both his hands (metaphorically) tied up. Irahl, however, still has one functioning arm. Robin might not have done his math very well.

but he gets quiet and stays low, shifting a little to get in a better position. a comfier position. a lot like when he crawls into the hammock with him on really bad nights (before the two of them pretend that nothing happened).]

[and maybe it's because this is some weird kind of familiar, that he actually goes still for a minute. he huffs--annoyed as Robin settles--but momentarily gives up after that.

especially in the dark now, it's easier to feel like he isn't being stared at and picked apart. he almost believes that maybe Robin will just go to sleep here, like he would in the hammock.

so, there's a minute there where he stops fighting, as if Robin had trapped both of his limbs instead of only one. for now, Irahl's free arm doesn't come swooping in for retaliation.]

[one of the nice things about Robin is that his eyes don't glow in the dark. he's met a lot of dragons with eyes that do, Tek's standing out to him in particular... often, they're mystifying and beautiful to behold, but there have been a few times when Robin distinctly wishes he couldn't see them. he's not shy like Irahl is, but even he can understand not wanting to be looked at, sometimes.

he's had his fun. his adoration of Irahl has bubbled over into silly giggles and failed confessions enough for one night. he may be wasted, but he knows that Irahl's not going to cave over a romantic crush or a promise of safety and comfort. not after all of that.

still... he wouldn't still have his job if he couldn't be flexible. he's drunk, but determined all the same. he's wanted to be with Irahl like this for months. this may be his only chance to show him what he'd never believe on his own--that he's treasured and valued. Robin likes a lot of things, but those things aren't usually people.

and maybe the guy'd finally calm down, for once. who knows.

Irahl said he talked too much, so, Robin finally keeps his mouth shut. in the dark, he finally rests his head down against Irahl's chest, slowly easing off of his arm as the seconds tick by. eventually, he sits and listens to Irahl's heart beating in peace, for a while, closing is eyes to the outside world.

he enjoys being near him in a way he can't, packed into the Underground. even on those bad nights, he's half-asleep or too anxious to find the time to enjoy resting this close to him.]

[it isn't until Robin shuts up that he realizes how quiet it actually is. his ears ring with the lack of crowdsounds that he's grown used to down Below. there's nothing here but distant city whispers, and he has room to let go and stretch out a little bit. he can really tell how intoxicated he is, like this. the whole room swims, he is pooled in the middle of it, and his limbs have floated somewhere far away.

he doesn't know if he'd call himself relaxed, but he is pleasantly unplugged. nothing buzzes in his head except alcohol. he is grateful for that much, at least. mission accomplished.

so, he settles. he starts to tune out, because he has the luxury to. Robin is allowed to enjoy his place for a little bit more.]

[it's quiet and soft. while Irahl sinks into a lack of sound, Robin basks in being able to stretch his legs. when's the last time he slept somewhere where his feet didn't run into furniture, or where he could sprawl lazily and still have any bed to lay on? it's never the noise he minds, just the space. cramped, cold, crowded.

no one's watching them, here. they can't even see each other. it's bliss.

Irahl may be drifting away, but Robin's still got some spark in him... he takes a deep breath against him, sighing softly, shifting with the end of it as if he was just settling a little, getting more comfortable. it ends with his fingers finding Irahl's. bumping into them on accident. probably not intentional. probably.

he relaxes again. he can be patient, wait to see if he can get away with it.]

[maybe he doesn't notice. maybe his hands aren't as touchy as his throat or the spikes hidden on his scalp. Robin bumps up against long fingers and knuckles, with delicate scales somewhere there, and filed-down claws.

his fingers are probably somewhere very far from his brain, right now. floating and distant--his breathing doesn't change, and no new tension begins to well up in the chest that Robin has an ear pressed to. he even stretches his ribs a little in a deeper breath, unconsciously reflecting a bit of Robin's sigh.

Robin can have this one.]

[it's so cute... no one else would appreciate this. Saeliss certainly wouldn't, the harpy. he doesn't think Tek would delight in it either. he doesn't even want to think about what Iska would do to this poor man. honestly, compared to the rest of them, Robin almost feels kind of innocent about the whole thing.

where his fingers are resting, he slowly starts to run his finger down the Irahl's thumb... keeping feather-light, knuckle to palm. a gentle, repetitive motion that slowly turns into a couple of fingers, and ends with him delicately stroking the back of his hand.]

[the sniper's eyes drag open in the dark, and sluggishly slide over in the direction of Robin's face.

he has noticed, apparently.

and so, he manages to voice a grunt on the topic, but it's more questioning than argumentative--like he needs verification that Robin is really petting his hand.]

[...and Robin has a somewhat supernatural ability to sense when someone is looking at him, so he knows. he doesn't open his eyes, though. he doesn't move. doesn't say anything.

and he certainly doesn't stop. he continues ghosting his fingers between his knuckles, smile growing a little wider...]

[to his credit, he gives it a few long seconds before he actually does anything about it... though, that may be more delayed reaction and not really something intentional.

and when he does stir, it's to lift his hand up away from Robin... and then it just kind of hovers awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do with it now.]

[ah, well. when Irahl fails to pull the hand all that far away, Robin continues to keep his eyes closed... and feels for all of the blood in that limb, so he can reach blindly out for his arm and tug it down playfully.

maybe "grabbing" is a better word, since his hand has to travel up his arm to get him to lower his hand on Robin. on his back or something. he doesn't care. he's forcing Irahl to let his hand drop on him somewhere.]

[his limbs are too heavy and drowned to bother fighting when both Robin and gravity are pulling on him.

after a little bit of coaxing, he gives up. Robin gets Irahl's hand and forearm flopping down onto his back, just like he wants.

maybe now Robin will go to sleep. Irahl has at least quietly learned by now that little accommodating gestures like that help him sleep the most soundly, so he's hoping it will be enough to encourage him to stop moving in this case.]

[Robin will let him think it helps, for a little bit. again, he's happy to soak up the ounce of attention, the amount he's gotten Irahl to cave already. he can pretend that he's actually liked, for a moment or two, even if it's entirely from his own meddling.

but... after a minute, he's managed to start rubbing his hand over the others' sternum in that same soothing, rhythmic way. he's mostly just hoping--maybe if Irahl keeps almost falling asleep, he'll keep forgetting that Robin is messing with him.]

[Irahl's patience and tolerance may be his undoing, when combined with a criminal amount of alcohol. maybe he hasn't quite learned what happens when you give Robin an inch of leeway.

because, he doesn't argue. it's always a little irking to be touched in any way, but oh how that reaction is dulled right now. it's almost nice to not to automatically flinch and tense at every little thing.

and Robin is being harmless, he tells himself, in whatever corner of his brain that he's still active in. this isn't terrible. he doesn't have to think about it more than that.]

[oh yes, completely harmless. harmlessly smoothing his hand over his chest, and still harmless when he starts to slowly move a little lower... he doesn't have the fine-tuned dexterity and quick-thinking that he does when he's sober, but he would not have the reputation he does if he couldn't drive drunk, too.

so he plays a game of being quiet, shifting innocently, moving very slowly, testing what he can get away with, always waiting for Irahl to drift back to sleep... until he hits a moment of "now or never", bravely sliding his hand all the way down to something that's probably going to finally wake him up.

though, if he gets kicked out now? totally worth it. would do again.]

[Irahl hasn't been sleeping, but he has been somewhere not quite here. he's no stranger to just unplugging from his body for a while, so it's rather nice to do so out of choice rather than necessity. he's almost enjoying it, for a minute there--hypnotized by the constant rhythm of little doting motions.

maybe he underestimates the fact that Robin might really make a move for something like this. or maybe he's too far in his own head, drifting deep in some other place and some other time.

either way, he doesn't catch him in time. as Robin goes sneaking, the hand on his back suddenly curls, dragging dull claws over the cloth of his shirt. and, with another growl--annoyed and confused--Irahl lifts his head enough to look down at him.]

Ah...

[a soft, surprised little sound as he's clawed... but maybe it'll be quickly forgotten, with how Robin doesn't stop at the warning growl. he does slow a little, tilts his head back just enough to get a glimpse of Irahl's face, a lazy half-smirk playing on his own.

Robin looks very comfortable there. time to see if it's enough.]

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