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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[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.]

[it's enough for Irahl to drag in a heavier breath, a little through his teeth, when he feels that Robin isn't stopping. there's just that little skip, that little telling hesitation that is probably exactly what Robin is looking for, before Irahl finally makes a move to interrupt him.

he needs to interrupt him now, or he might get accused of liking it.

the hand on Robin's back lifts, to fumble down for his wrist instead, going to pull him away just far enough to not be dabbling in dangerous territory anymore.

and he's still peering down at Robin, able to see enough of his face in the dark to find his eyes. just watching. or accusing or demanding or conflicted. it's hard to tell.]

[of course his hand gets pulled away. his head tilts up with it, in his small surprise--so Irahl can finally get a good look at his face.

concern, at first. he might have gotten a little lost in the illusion. Irahl doesn't like that? he can do better. it spreads through a small smile, his eyes full of longing (...though, that might also be the booze talking), before he dips his head back down again, gaze obscured under his bangs.

if he can't have his hand, he'll move against him with his hips. if Irahl thought his fingers were distracting, his quiet sighs of satisfaction can't be much better.]

[his chest rises, ribs stretching, as he catches a breath. he's still managing to find himself surprised, and that is what he's blaming for the way that he's suddenly swimming a little deeper, lightheaded. he's caught off guard--that's why he hesitates. that's all.

and however true what he's telling himself is, it is a fact that he never expects this when it happens. he lives his life behind layers of armor, protected and deadened, so that touch and warmth and terrible closeness always come as a kind of shock to him.

he remembers the last time someone moved against him like this. he feels the pressure, recognizes the signs, and he's taken back there in an instant. this time, the annoyed growl sounds more like a groan, and the fingers around Robin's wrist tighten.]

--Robin.

[he sounds drunk, but his chest sounds tight. he uses his name.]

[poor Irahl is at absolutely no fault, here. if Robin were of sound mind and possessed any foresight, he probably wouldn't have done this. he'd have settled for a hug and a warm body and called it strategic bonding.

but he is ruled by his sappy little heart and his spill-over feelings, these days. hearing him groan is amazing, but hearing him say his name stops his breath in his throat. his face snaps up to stare at him, lips parted in surprise or arousal or--whatever the reason, it hardly matters.]

What? [--escapes him before he can think. what does he want? what can he do to make him happy? his fingers curl aimlessly in Irahl's grip while he waits.]

['stop' is the word he's looking for. he has it ready, until Robin looks up at him, and he can't shake the feeling of warmth and weight on him. Robin's pulse is under his fingers. he's both centered in the moment and drifting at the same time--slowly spinning, maybe--and he wishes he could be all of one or the other. he either drank too much, or should have killed another bottle before climbing into bed.

he doesn't answer. his fingers work on Robin's wrist instead, as he's caught in limbo. frustrated.

he hopes that he won't remember this in the morning. that's the worst part. he can't walk away from this once the night it over. he knows the name of the person looking back at him, and they know his.

he forces a tense sigh, finally, because he doesn't know how to deal with this. he doesn't know what this means, and he feels too clouded to focus on it.]

[he watches Irahl struggling with his own thoughts... Robin isn't thinking about the consequences, and how strange it'll be to wake up the next morning. it hasn't occurred to him that this could hurt their relationship. but he can see the now pretty good--and despite his many selfish reasons, he does also genuinely want Irahl to be happy.

...so he lets out a quiet huff of air, pushing himself up with the one hand he's still got free. he wobbles a little when he gets upright, still straddling the other man, his arm still trapped in his grip.

he offers him a hazy, sympathetic smile. his words run together a bit, despite the charming attempt.]

Would you like another drink?

[he doesn't mean to agree so quick. he tells himself that he should think about it, there are repercussions and dangers to consider, but he's already nodding.

yes, by all the gods, he would love another drink. he needs the excuse and the distraction.

he at least has the presence of mind to stay where he's at, and wait for Robin to make the first move, though. he's keeping all movement to a minimum until he's free.]

There you go... [muttered soft as he concedes. there's some communication. he makes a short (but valiant) effort to reach the bottle from where he's at, but the nightstand is clear on the other side of the bed... so he has to roll off of Irahl's lap and clumsily reorient himself before he can get it.

the dragon gets some moments of freedom before Robin can turn and hand the bottle to him properly.]

Just don't chug the whole thing, all right?

[and in those moments, Irahl strategically rolls from his back onto his side, and quietly shifts around until he's more comfortable. he drags pillows over to stuff under his shoulders, prop his upper body up a little so he can drink without drowning.

he peers at the bottle in the mostly-dark, swishes the contents and sniffs it after he works it open, but that may mostly be a way to buy time before he actually takes a drink.

he doesn't want to seem too eager for it, after all. but he still takes an eager enough pull from the bottle that it gets him clearing his throat, trying not to cough.]

[his plan maybe didn't work the way he'd hoped, but... as he watches Irahl take a drink, he at least feels a little better about him. he takes the bottle with the same little smile and nod, trying to ignore his own... well, if he sits with his legs folded together, it's not so bad.

he tries to drink to match--but the stuff really is terrible, and he doesn't take it much better. if he's still sober enough to taste this, maybe he really should finish the bottle.]

Look, you... Obviously don't want to sleep with me, and I'm obviously so drunk that I'm not going to remember this in the morning, so...

[he holds the bottle out for him, if he wants another drink...]

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