Prodigal

Sabin leaned his elbows on the railing of the ship and tried to fight another wave of vertigo, focusing on the stars up above. The whole idea of being in the air was new to him, and not a little bit frightening, but he'd never let fear stop him before. He just wished that it wasn't so disorienting. Half the time, with the stairs and the catwalks and the not being able to see the sky, but somehow being able to feel that they were floating, he could barely tell which way was up. He thought that he could trust his feet, but there were times when he just wasn't sure.

And that's why he was up on deck, in the middle of the night, all of the others asleep down below somewhere. He needed a place to focus his eyes, a restoration of perspective. Already, he felt better, just knowing for certain where he was, even if the strange, weightless feeling remained. He gripped the railing more tightly in his hands and looked down to the ground below. What the hell was he doing here? When he'd seen his brother... when he'd killed Vargas, all he had been thinking about was how happy he was to see him again, was that they needed to get out of there. He'd gone with them, but now, he wasn't sure that was such a good idea. It wasn't that they didn't need him, it was that, really, in the end, he was afraid. He didn't know anything about what had been going on in the world these past ten years. He didn't know what would happen to Figaro if both of them died out here trying to save her. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure if he really knew his brother anymore. They had been so close, like two sides of the same coin, for so long, but ten years changes a person, he knew that better than anyone. And he had no idea if the others even felt this sense of... hesitation, he supposed. It was easy when there was a monster in front of him, something he could just beat with his hands and feet until it stopped moving. It wasn't so easy calm and peaceful under the stars, alone.

Of course, the moment he thought that, something small hit him in the back of the head.

He spun around, dropping into a fighting stance more out of habit than out of thinking any monster could have gotten aboard the ship. But even though he knew it had to be someone aboard the ship, he was still surprised to see that it was Setzer,

"For your thoughts," he said, gesturing down at Sabin's feet. There was a poker chip lying there, undoubtedly what had hit him a moment ago. Sabin relaxed, bending down to pick it up. He couldn't really say that he liked Setzer, really-- even though he wasn't as headstrong about the whole "be heroes" thing as the others, Setzer didn't even seem to care that the world was crumbling and they were trying to stop it-- but he didn't find him completely objectionable. He turned the chip over in his hands. Well, he'd paid for it, hadn't he?

"I couldn't sleep. I don't like not having my feet on the ground," and then, "I'm not sure why I'm here," because, in the end, he certainly couldn't say anything about it to the others, all of them had their own problems to worry about. Setzer raised his eyebrows,

"I shoulda given you two," Sabin bristled a little bit, but after a moment, he realized that Setzer actually wasn't making fun of him. And then Setzer grinned, "See, this is why I keep you all around-- you keep surprising me. Every time I think I have you pegged down, I learn something new. I would have thought you were like the others." Sabin shook his head, turned away,

"No, I don't think I am. If we fail... the world is in serious trouble. I don't want that responsibility. I don't want people to count on me like that. I didn't want to be King and I don't want to be either the savior of the world, or dead. I got stronger so I could protect things that needed protecting, but I don't know if these muscles are enough to protect the world. Or even myself," he didn't really know why he was telling Setzer any of this. It's not like he was anything other than their chauffeur in a lot of ways-- or maybe that's exactly why he was telling him, because he didn't actually have a stake in all this, because Sabin didn't have to worry about him caring too much. It was a surprise, a moment later, when there was a warm hand on his shoulder,

"So don't take it."

"What?" he half turned, blinked.

"So don't take the responsibility," Setzer shrugged, "I don't feel particularly responsible for what happens to the world, but here I am," he paused and made a face, "This is quickly becoming far too deep a conversation to be having sober. If I'm going to have to counsel you through a crisis of faith or something, I really need a drink," Sabin must have frowned, because Setzer laughed, "Come on, now. I don't mind. I needed a drinking buddy anyway, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask the King of Figaro... or the Other King of Figaro. Or whatever," he linked his arm through Sabin's and started to drag him away.

"Wait... but I... I don't drink..." Setzer's grin was oddly contagious.

"You do now."

- - -

He did now.

Sitting in Setzer's overly opulent room on his overly comfortable couch and holding a crystal glass with some kind of liquor in it was so far removed from what he expected to be doing this evening that he felt mildly disoriented just sitting there, nevermind the alcohol. He had to admit, however, that whatever Setzer had poured into his glass was quite good; he couldn't quite resist taking another sip. Mostly though, the alcohol was secondary, a slight distraction from Setzer as he moved around the room, setting up some kind of odd contraption.

The bottom part of it was blown glass, hollow, and Setzer filled it with cold water from a pitcher. That part, at least, made some kind of sense, resembled other things he was familiar with. The rest, however, made no sense to him at all-- metal and ceramic and what looked a lot like tea leaves, but seemed moist and were nowhere near the water and some kind of straw coming out of the thing that seemed to be the point of it all, except that if Setzer just wanted to drink water, there were plenty of glasses. There was an obviously well-loved teapot on one of the shelves near where the alcohol and glasses and whatnot had come from as well, so brewing tea was unlikely anyway. Setzer dropped a small greenish looking rock into the top of the whole thing with the tea leaves and then put a metal top on the entire contraption. Sabin opened his mouth but Setzer must have seen the questions on his face,

"It's a hookah. Domari invention, I believe, originally, though it's considered archaic there now."

"Alright. What is it for?" Setzer laughed,

"Well, watch and see!" he took the tube and brought it to his mouth. The liquid in the bottom bubbled and a moment later, he exhaled a thin stream of smoke. Sabin raised an eyebrow,

"You're... using it to smoke?" tobacco wasn't an entirely foreign concept-- several of the dignitaries he'd met as a child had pipes or various other things, but tobacco out in the middle of the desert was a vice few people had time for. Alcohol was easier, or if you were particularly brave, or foolish, there was a desert flower that grew at a few oases that was said to give you strange visions. Setzer laughed at his incredulity,

"No. We are using it to smoke."

"But... I don't sm--"

"You do now," there was that grin again, and Setzer held out the tube to him. Well... he supposed he did now. That grin was not the kind of thing you argued with when you were this high up off the ground. Sabin put the tube to his mouth, cautiously, and inhaled, "You'll have to inhale harder than that. It'll make you light-headed after awhile, but the flavor's so much better than smoking a pipe or whatnot." Sabin was expecting to cough, having done so the one time one of the sons of the visiting ambassadors tried to share his pipe, but the smoke was oddly cool in his mouth, and smooth. He breathed out in shock and a strange flavor, a little like burnt vanilla or maybe sugar, but all it's own, bloomed in his mouth. Setzer was watching him, expectantly, eyes bright, and Sabin felt a laugh bubble up,

"It's good!" he said, and didn't even try to keep the surprise from his voice. Setzer laughed,

"Of course it's good! Would I be eager to share something that wasn't?" Setzer posed ever so slightly, mock affronted, and Sabin couldn't help but laugh.

"Of course not. I meant no offense."

"Well, then none taken," Setzer teased back, gesturing for Sabin to try again. After a moment, he did, though it took him a few more minutes to actually get comfortable with it, passing it back and forth with Setzer. He did feel a little light headed, which he supposed should have made his airship-peculiar claustrophobia worse, but for some reason seemed to make it better. He cared less that he was disoriented, the unnatural weightless feeling of the ship mixing with the float-like feeling of the light-headedness, and possibly the beginnings of intoxication as well. They passed the tube back and forth for a moment in companionable silence.

"So what was it like," Setzer asked after a moment, "being the Crown Prince of Figaro?" Sabin shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the question, though he knew it was supposed to be light-hearted,

"I don't know... what is it like being an air pirate?" it was a little snappish, but Setzer didn't seem to mind, he just laughed and waved his hands, kind of dismissively,

"Don't forget, not just an air pirate. Also a world-renowned scoundrel and general lech. Oh, and occasionally a thief and a liar, can't leave those out either," he grinned, looking every inch the part, "It's completely thrilling. Imagine, all of the world, all of the skies at your disposal. Being able to go anywhere and do anything, have anything you want," his eyes almost seemed to glow as he gestured, as though he could paint a picture of the horizon with his hands, "Maybe one day, I'll have explored everything and done everything and there won't be anything left, but until then-- the whole world is out there, waiting," he grinned at Sabin, passed him the hose for the hookah and filled up both of their drinks, "As long as I'm flying, I know I'm alive."

He looked alive, Sabin thought, sprawled there on the low couch, his eyes bright and spots of color forming on his cheeks, either from the excitement of talking about the skies or the liquor. Even the thin scars that criss-crossed his face seemed like little badges of times when he'd lived, times when he'd survived. Wasn't it supposed to be Sabin's dream to travel, to not be tied down? And yet, here he was, and he was scared. Master Duncan was dead and Figaro might be dying, and both he and his brother and their ideals might die tomorrow. He envied Setzer the calm, relaxed curve of his spine, the way he could make his half of the couch look indecently comfortable, even through knowing what it was that they were all doing.

"The question's still open, though," Setzer said after a moment, gesturing to Sabin's drink, "Drink up and tell me. The one thing in this world I can't have is royal blood-- what's it like?" his eyes were still bright, genuinely interested. Sabin shook his head, but couldn't help but chuckle a bit,

"I'm not sure I'm the one you should be asking. For the last ten years, my idea of luxury has been getting to sleep on something other than the ground," another head shake, but he did take a long sip of his drink and seriously think about it, "It's hard for me to say, really. The castle and my training are really the only things I'd seen or known until I met up with Edgar again, and the rest. Father always cared for us very much, and Edgar and I were close, of course, but it seems to me that people cared about each other less, there. I felt like most people saw The Younger Prince and not Sabin Figaro. I left as soon as I could. I couldn't live in a place where all everyone saw of me was a crown. Besides, Edgar was always better at that kind of thing anyway," Sabin scowled slightly, "At the very least, he seems to have gotten the chambermaids to see more of him than his crown." Setzer blinked for a moment then nearly fell off the couch laughing,

"Ah, such a way with words. I can't tell if you're disgusted with him or jealous!" even though he knew Setzer was joking, it hit a little close to home,

"I don't know anymore. Maybe both. Edgar has everything he could possibly want and it's everything I ought to want, and ought to have..." another long sip of his drink, "I envy my brother, but not for the chambermaids, or even for Figaro. I envy him because he knows what he wants to protect, and he's strong enough to protect it," another sip, then, softer, "And I envy you that you can just not care and be free. But I feel like the more I try to do things to protect others, the more selfish I become. I left Edgar by himself. I got washed away from my friends and made them worry about me. Edgar's saved me in battle as many times as I've saved him... I wish I could just not care. I wish I could be free." Sabin wasn't expecting Setzer to laugh at that, and for a moment he saw red, before Setzer spoke,

"Ah, so see, now we know that you're a maudlin drunk," Sabin could feel himself clenching the hand not holding his drink into a fist more than he was making a conscious decision to do it, but Setzer kept talking, unperturbed, "Look, I'm no counselor, and I don't pretend to know the first thing about what's going on between you and your brother, or you and Figaro, or anything. Hell, I don't even really know what's going on between your eyeballs. But I know three things-- one, is that a man with nothing to protect isn't much of a man," his smile was a little self-deprecating, the expression all the more shocking for Sabin never having seen anything like it cross the other's face before, though it was gone quickly, replaced with his normal grin "even if he's having the time of his life. And the second is that protecting things doesn't always go one way, and it's not supposed to. If you're watching someone else's back then, kind of by necessity, that means they're watching yours. You understand?"

"I... I think so," he was going to need to think about that more, later, when he wasn't light-headed and well on his way to being drunk, but it did make a strange kind of sense-- of course he need someone to watch his back and of course his brother would be the person he'd want doing it. But... "Wasn't there a third thing?" Setzer grinned,

"Yeah. Third thing is that you need to catch one of those chambermaids for yourself." Sabin sputtered,

"I... what... wait... I... I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught them," he said lightly, laughing. But Setzer looked a little too serious,

"Surely you're joking. Did they keep you from having girlfriends in the palace at 15, too?"

"I..." Sabin wasn't sure what to say about that, the conversation suddenly much more awkward "... I never noticed anyone who was particularly interested in me, I guess... I never really thought about it..." Setzer rolled his eyes, sitting up on the sofa and putting his drink on the table,

"By the Goddesses, do I really have to introduce you to every vice?"

"What do you mea--?" was all he managed to get out before Setzer had closed the distance between them and kissed him full on the mouth. When he didn't immediately pull away, too shocked to move, Setzer moved smoothly over on top of him until he was straddling his hips. He wound his arms around Sabin's neck and pressed his tongue against his lips, escalating things immediately and recklessly. Sabin just boggled at him. Hadn't the man ever heard of "no".

Although... he wasn't really saying no, was he?

He wasn't sure it was a good idea to say yes, either, wasn't exactly sure what he'd even be saying yes to, but he knew it felt awkward to be kissed like this with his hands down at his sides, like a ragdoll. So he brought his hands up, Setzer somehow managing to catch the glass when he forgot it was even in his hand, placing it on the table behind him, palms sliding down to catch at Setzer's hips, pull him closer, working more on instinct than anything else. He felt a little detached from it all, moreso than he should be, from the sound of Edgar's stories. It wasn't unpleasant, but he'd thought there would be more to it. Perhaps it just required more of his participation? Hesitantly, he tried to mimic what Setzer was doing in the kiss, lips parting to slide his tongue back against Setzers... and the noise that Setzer made at that, needy and pleased, and knowing he caused that, made him jerk his head back and gasp for air, sudden heat like Fire down his spine. He looked at Setzer with wide, dazed eyes for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to say, or do, now that the first kiss was broken. Setzer, it seemed, did not suffer from the same problems,

"You're not going to hit me now, are you?" anyone else would have sounded unsure, Setzer just sounded thrill-drunk, the gambler riding high on an almost sure bet. Sabin couldn't find his own voice, had to shake his head, and Setzer grinned, triumphant, "Good. Didn't need another scar anyway." And then his lips were back against Sabin's and he found himself kissing back this time without thinking, Setzer's soft, purring pleasure spurring him on.
Setzer shifted forward, more into his lap, and maybe he should have been paying attention to what that felt like, another body pressed up against his, but what he felt was Setzer's shirt shift under his hands, so that they were half pressed against temptingly smooth skin. He hadn't managed to resist a single temptation all night, and he saw no reason to start now. He slid his hands up under his shirt, fascinated with the texture under his fingers even moreso than the mouth against his, almost even more than the hungry noise Setzer made at his touch. Setzer's body, like his face, was criss-crossed with scars, but the unmarred bits of his skin were smoother than he was used to, untouched by sun or hard work the way his was. Under the coat, which made him seem larger, more imposing somehow, Setzer was slender, smaller than Sabin had thought, and he suddenly just had to stop and grip Setzer's hips as the realization of how much stronger he likely was washed over him in another wave of fire.

He had one hand curled in Setzer's hair before he could even think about it, pressing him forward into the kiss, even though he was laughing now and obviously not going anywhere. He knew he didn't know what he was doing, knew that someone like Setzer had probably had lovers that made him look like some kind of overeager dog, but for once, he just didn't care. Setzer had offered this, all of this, and he hadn't realized how much he needed it until the gambler was in his lap. And Setzer kept making those noises as Sabin kissed back, fiercely, feeling like he could chase away that strange, almost sick, feeling that the realization of how delicate Setzer was had caused, if he could just kiss him hard enough.

It wasn't enough.

He dumped him backwards on the couch without a second thought, followed him down to press him there. The voice in his head telling him he didn't know what he was doing felt even more far away with Setzer in that indecent sprawl from earlier, but now pink cheeked and under him. The alcohol made him reckless, the hookah, light-headed, and before he'd really even fully formed the thought, he'd yanked up Setzer's shirt and bent his head to taste one of the scars on his chest. Setzer gasped and then whined under him, arching up into his mouth like he was actually doing something good, something right, and that thought was just as heady as the rest of the more physical pleasure.

"Hey, hey," Setzer said, voice breathless as he tried to sit up, "Aren't I supposed to be the one seducing you?" Sabin flushed, embarrassed, but only just barely,

"You've done a good job of that already, I'd say," he managed before he claimed Setzer's lips again. Despite the protest, Setzer seemed more than happy to just be kissed into the couch and if Sabin's kisses were still a little sloppy and inexperienced, Setzer didn't seem to mind in the slightest, making another one of those soft noises that almost sounded like a purr. Sabin could feel cool hands skimming up his sides now, palms free of the calluses that Sabin knew lined his own. He was used to his size and rough-around-the-edges demeanor being a bad thing, or at least a cause for comment. Setzer made it feel powerful, attractive, hands following the lines of his muscles through his shirt until he just peeled the whole thing off, and that was even better, Setzer's smooth hands pale against his tanned skin. He all but crushed Setzer to the sofa, trying to memorize the inside of his mouth, and he just moved, almost catlike, finding places for his legs and the bend of his spine, where he would be comfortable again.

When Sabin ran his hand down one leg, bending it back slightly, just to see if Setzer would let him, if he could bend that way, Setzer broke off the kiss again, panting,

"Damn. I didn't really think you'd be quite this into this," his tone said he didn't mind in the slightest, the hint of laughter around the edges, "Bed?" Some part of him started ringing alarm bells at that, screaming that he wasn't ready, that he would be a disappointment, that he would regret it.

Screw it. He would deal with it in the morning.

"Bed," he said, and if he couldn't quite keep the nerves out of his voice, it at least was definitely not a question. After a moment, Setzer laughed,

"You know, that does mean you have to get off the couch."

"There are problems with every plan," he said, but he sat up, resisting the urge to pull Setzer with him. For a moment, Setzer just stared at him, not moving, eyes slightly dazed as he looked at him, eyes tracing the muscles his hands had explored before. Sabin felt his cheeks heat, "What?" Setzer blinked and shook himself, rolling off the sofa and climbing to his feet in one, smooth move,

"Nothing," were his cheeks slightly red as well? Surely not. As he crossed to the bed, he let the trenchcoat fall and lay where it fell, his shirt joining it a moment later. Casual as could be, he sat on the bed and worked on the laces of his boots, then the laces of his pants, as though this wasn't anything that he could possibly be embarrassed about. Sabin had an easier time of his shoes, but found that he stalled out with his hands on his pants, caught staring at the easy way Setzer just rolled over and lounged against the sheets of his bed, as though he were naked in the room with a traveling companion all the time. Maybe he was. And the thought of, say, Locke, standing in this room doing this same thing, both of them lithe and nimble-fingered ought to have been disturbing and definitely wasn't, and he was going to have to be an outright saint to go back to his old way of denying himself things after this. Setzer shifted on the bed in a way that passed through his earlier languid sensuality and straight into obscene,

"Am I going to have to hand address you an invitation?" Sabin flushed further, but his hands still hesitated and he didn't know why. He'd been naked around Vargas before, and vice versa; there wasn't a lot of privacy out in the woods. But this was different, this was... "Embarrassed? Don't be. Come on, I want to see you." Sabin took a deep breath and, like diving into water you knew was going to be cold, undid his pants and lost them all in one move, before he could think too much about. Setzer's appreciative whistle eased the first few moments, but it was the look on his face, open and hungry, that got Sabin across the few feet to the bed, and then into it, twining his limbs with Setzer's immediately, mostly because Setzer wouldn't seem to have it any other way.

The kisses were even better, curled up like this, heated in a way that they weren't when there were clothes in the way. Sabin couldn't seem to touch enough, hands never lingering in one place for very long, though he revisited any place that made Setzer arch and gasp, and there were a number of those. Setzer finally rolled over on top of him and sat up a bit, silver hair disheveled and everywhere, and Sabin caught his breath, which made Setzer chuckle.

"You haven't even seen the best part yet," he quipped, reaching over Sabin to the bedside table and pulling out one of the potions that they often used to mend their wounds. Sabin didn't understand what he could possibly need the slightly viscous thing for. Was he planning on one of them being injured? And then those expressive, long-fingered hands were rubbing the potion along his shaft and all of his questions fell by the wayside.

It dimly occurred to him that Setzer was doing all the work, as he eased himself down onto him, but he couldn't really process that thought into action of any kind, overwhelmed by the sheer sensation of it, here and now, in a way that blew any thought of tomorrow or the world or Figaro right out of his head. He might have said something. Setzer was laughing, though his voice sounded a little strained, and then he was moving and it only occurred to Sabin after the sound was wrenched from his throat that he really ought to be trying to be quiet. He had enough mind to try to keep it down somewhat, but only just barely. And when he gripped onto Setzer's hips to have something to hold onto, and Setzer threw his head back in a shower of silver and made a noise that was so helpless it took his breath away, he lost even that. All that mattered was the motion of him, the feel of him around him, the feel of his hipbones under his hands, small and delicate and knowing that the gambler wasn't really but was to him.


He tried to last after that, managed for a few minutes at least, but it was a losing battle. Luckily, Setzer wasn't in any mood to draw things out, either, and soon was draped bonelessly across Sabin's chest. Sabin closed his eyes for a moment, one hand resting on the small of Setzer's back. He was tired and a little sticky and there was a slight spinning that he figured was likely the alcohol rearing a bit more of it's head, but he couldn't remember feeling this relaxed in... well, he couldn't remember ever being this relaxed. He wondered if he could look at himself, if he would be sprawled in a similar fashion to the way Setzer was earlier? Setzer leaned up, devil-may-care grin on his face again and then kissed him, hard. Sabin couldn't help but laugh into the kiss, mostly in a relieved sort of joy, pulling him even closer.

"You're not thinking of sneaking off after that, are you?"

"I wasn't planning on it. Your bed is more comfortable than the ones in the guest room," Sabin found it was easier to quip and tease now, relief settling between his shoulderblades as easily as dread had. Setzer laughed,

"Good. Because I don't think I'm done with you yet," he grinned, wickedly, "Besides, you're going to need someone to nurse you through the hangover in the morning."

"Wait... hangover? What's a hangover?"

Even though there was something kind of ominous about that, he thought the sound of Setzer's laughter, genuine and just a little exhausted around the edges from exertion, might have been the best thing he'd heard all night.