you make it sound like being friends is just so easy to do like we're kids on a playground playing games maybe it is easy for you and jonas, but it's not for me
You're the first person I've ever asked but why would yk that, just assume instead
[ Jonas approached him, Prompto approached him, Ignis and Gladio were assigned to him... Isn't this the first time he's actually tried to make a friend himself? Maybe he should take how it's going as some kind of sign. ]
You told me to figure it out so I did. You're not the only one that speaks it and ik you've met Reze. I figured you were insulting me like usual, so finding out you weren't made me think this was a good convo to have
oh my god why are you making this into such a big deal?
[He should've expected it. He didn't think they knew each other — but it's not like they're a large group of people, and hasn't he already clarified that Noctis is nosy? No one's asking Cain questions like he is. Not even Jonas.]
so you cheated and asked someone instead of doing it yourself cool
[He's upset, and he knows not all of it is directed at Noctis — or if it is, it's coming from an unfair place, which is why he buries his head in both hands where he's seated on his cot, tent sealed against the outside world.]
what are you even talking about, the first person you've ever asked? why do you need to ask? i sent a whole stupid video! why would i just do that for no reason? i barely talk to anyone but the two of you. haven't told anyone a fucking thing, but the two of you.
and why does it MATTER what i think when you're checked out from the beginning? i don't know if you're coping or what, but you're the one who doesn't wanna be here. who knows what's going to happen tomorrow. you fucked up your leg, jonas almost fucking died. would've if i wasn't there.
[ That initial sting from Cain's first message is familiar. How could you be so fucking stupid, again?
Because of the video. Because of the late night chats. Hell, because of a stupid misfired picture that left him confused and jealous of his friends, but one that Cain had actually shown remorse over. It helped smooth over an impossible situation, and it was a time that he could've easily dug in and teased Noctis but he didn't. He was conscientious, even.
And when the second text comes, his decision feels more justified.
Because here, he shows up with all the anger and emotion Noctis had been waiting for. The honesty. And it feels good. ]
What the hell is that? Don't pull that shit on me, like I'm crazy for asking
When you go back and forth between acting like I'm an idiot for trying to know you and being friendly with me. You sent a video? Yeah I sent you shit too! I told you I liked fighting with you and that's still true. I like when you message me bc maybe I'll actually hear smth about your life or you'll call me an asshole and I can call you one back
"Tell me what you want" fuck YOU over what I want, I messaged you tonight didn't I? Did I not make it obvious enough?
The only thing you're right about is that I shouldn't be doing this bc I need to get out of here, but here I am anyway. Still talking to you. So call me a prick again for that, I deserve it
[He feels cornered. He's worked up. He knows he is, which isn't making this any easier — he just wants to go back to how it's been so far. Easy. Fun, like Jonas says.
This isn't fun.]
i'm not a good person i'm not what you or jonas think i am at all, okay? i'm a fuck-up, and a coward, and a criminal
You don't know what we think you are. Just like you don't know who I am or what I've done.
And you don't get to choose what I do.
[ His heart's racing. It feels like they're on the precipice of something, and he knows exactly how hard he's pushing him. It feels like there's only one way both of them can handle that without shutting down. ]
Fight me. You beat me and I'll do w/e you want, I'll back off
[The coordinates come through a short amount of time after that, longitude and latitude in decimal degrees pinpointing a location several kilometers out past camp — the furthest point he's personally mapped on foot. Should be faster to get there by ship, so he has some time yet before he'll need to leave.
Cain scrubs his face and lays back on his cot, tense with suspended energy. Nothing to do but wait.]
A fight now almost two months in the making, from the point their last one was interrupted. Before he was worked up by a desire to make things even, then excitement over facing Cain on their own terms. As sparring partners, not as outright enemies. Now... he isn't sure what they are, and maybe that's why they need this so badly. Cain isn't the only one who deals better with fists than words.
He's early, as predicted.
It gives him more time than he wants to sit in his ship and think, back to when they first fought and a distant argument that seems harder and harder to define with time. All of their arguments feel like that, though. Quick to come, quick to go, all from one wrong step here or there. Fuck, he's so annoying... so why does that make him want him around even more?
He sees the ship well before it lands with little around them to catch the eye, crawling out of his own cockpit while Cain circles the dune. That well-worn black shirt has at least been washed by now, jacket discarded in the day's residual heat, and it's clear just by looking at him that he has nothing else on him. No weapons, nothing, just a bag with basic supplies that he drops onto the sand beneath their ships as Cain lands and his cockpit opens. ]
[By the time Cain lands his ship, that suspenseful energy has become rigid in his body, muscles taut with calcified anticipation. When he pops open the cockpit and hauls himself out, he can feel warmth from the engine under his feet — climbing down allows him to stretch both arms and legs, and once his feet are planted in the sand he shakes some of that residual tension off with a quick whip of his head.
Of course he's already seen Noctis, and if he's annoyed that he's early he doesn't show it. The question is met with a sneer.]
Are you seriously asking me that?
[Cain is wearing a neutral outfit in his usual style, black cargo pants and a tightly fitted sleeveless shirt exposing his two mostly healed injuries: the first on his upper arm that Noctis will recognize from their time during the storm, clean cut faded to a pink line; and the second on his forearm, much less neat in its inevitable scarring, where he was mauled by a barren-racer. His hands are pocketed as he approaches, black eyes fixed on Noctis in an unrelenting stare.]
[ Cain drops onto sand and Noctis feels his throat tighten, leaving behind that bag of water and emergency provisions as he approaches. Slow. Cautious. Like he would any opponent that he sizes up with a careful stare and monitored impatience. There's hardly a need to take him up on the offer. Cain's clothing is tight and highlights a figure which is broader and appears stronger – in all respects – than his own, and it brings back unwelcome memories. First, of unyielding muscle beneath fingertips tingling from dehydration and blood loss. Second, of the ridge of abdominals exposed under low light, seen only in the briefest glance before Noctis had forcefully minded his friend's privacy.
Friend. Right. Or whatever the fuck they are now. ]
Nah. You pull that shit on me again and I know how to handle you. It'd just be one more sign that you've lost.
[ If there were any doubts regarding the energy he'd bring to this fight, he dashes them immediately. He's still keyed up, a lithe but well-muscled body as tense as Cain's when he comes to a stop just a few feet from him. Fingers adjust the single glove on his left hand as boots toe at sand, the jagged edge of his own scar barely visible beneath loose high-cut fatigues. Black on black, a terrible choice in days as brutal as this, under a sun which has darkened his own olive skin and just made steely blue eyes shine brighter beneath a dark fringe of hair. ]
Anything you wanna' change about your rules? This is your chance.
[His expression is sober at first, brow creased in a line of discontent that seems to sit naturally on a face so used to wearing it. As he assesses Noctis in turn, whatever conclusion he draws is a private one — to the extent that it matters in the moment, because of course he's already thought about this extensively. Noctis is smaller and more lean than many of the other soldiers Cain has encountered, but he doesn't underestimate that, not when Noctis has been so outspoken and confident in his own ability. And from what little he'd seen that last time, Cain is prepared for a hard fight.
There's a lot on the line. More than the petty skirmishes of hierarchy and dominance so frequent among Fighters. Still, when he closes the distance between them, Cain's expression changes — maybe he's feeding off the energy between them, a natural transformation from scowl to the taunting smirk he wields now.]
Another chance? You're being way too nice, printsessa.
[Spoken out loud, there's no denying what that means, unlike when he'd written it in Cyrillic letters. Cain takes another step, edging into Noctis's personal space with no remorse — right up in his face for the intimidation act the same as last time, undaunted as he gazes into blue eyes.
He wants to see if he'll flinch. How much this boundary can be pushed, how far he can take it before Noctis loses nerve.]
Or are you just buying time?
[There isn't much daylight left; the sun's vanishing fast, horizon a deep plum color fading to black, stars already freckling the expanse above. Maybe he should've left the lights of his ship on so they wouldn't be fighting in the dark, but Cain's past caring about that.]
I didn't see you swinging the second you got out of your ship.
[ Which makes Cain as eager to engage in their back and forth banter as he is, a fact he feels especially keen to highlight considering the terms of their fight. All he has to do is be faster, hit harder, and stay more motivated than Cain is. The third won't be a problem.
His chin lifts as Cain draws closer, distance shrunk with each step but he now knows it as a familiar technique, remembering last time how quick he'd been to draw attention to their difference in size. Now, however, his eyes are only on Cain's, searching for mental weakness instead of a physical one. ]
Ten seconds down, then it's over. You're gonna' make that way too easy for me if you stay in my fucking face.
[ That smirk. It's impossible to look away from even as he moves almost imperceptibly, the soft digging of the back of one heel into sand the only sign he gives before his fist is swinging forward for a swift right, directed right at that cocky mouth. ]
[Posturing is so natural across all he's learned to keep himself alive, in the moment the behavior is automatic enough that he doesn't consider the other side of it — how good it is Noctis doesn't back down, doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink. That tension in his stomach clenches tighter, heartrate ticking faster, adrenaline fueled by the thrill of the fight and the danger that comes with a promise.
Ten seconds down, then it's over. They'll have to hit each other real fucking hard to accomplish that.
Good.
There's no more thinking then, just the swing of a fist at his face. Cain brings up his forearm to block the heavy hit; his own boots dig into the unsteady grit of sand, stabilizing him as he hooks his other arm in a nasty uppercut aimed up at Noctis's chin. Like before, his brawling style uses power as much as speed with the intent to deny Noctis precious recovery time.]
It's a strange feeling. It isn't that he hasn't experienced pain in too long, used to it on the daily back in Eos where here the only stings have come from a single prolonged injury. He still felt it. And he still feels the aches of a much older one, chronic discomfort something he's come to accept and become accustomed to since he was a child. But this? It feels different taking a blow to the face, something so deeply satisfying in a tapestry of bruises that always faded too fast on his body – but not here.
Besides... he wants to know how punishing Cain's fists are.
It glances off his jaw as he jerks his head back, arm suddenly raising to lock around Cain's and hold him steady for the jab of a knee right into his gut. Before that location had been dicey, the site of a healing gunshot wound he'd been so angry over accidentally exploiting. Now it's free game.
Just like the rest of him as they trade jabs and he tries to mark up a body already littered with scars, faring better when he's able to keep his distance for backflip dodges or rapid sidesteps, but too motivated by his own desire to cause hurt to listen to reason. By the time they've locked themselves in another tussle, tracks left in the sand from their skirmish, he doesn't realize he's wearing that same expression Cain had earlier – though this smirk is breathless. ]
You think that's good enough? You're gonna' have to hit me harder... I told you I didn't want to fight a coward.
[ Exactly what Cain admitted he was, just a few short hours ago. It fuels him for his next rush forward, sweeping low at his legs to try to knock him down. ]
[There's so much satisfaction in landing a hit. It isn't total victory, but it's a taste of it, just a lick — pain doesn't factor into the moment, and in fact he feels nothing right now but the roar of blood in his ears as they fight. He's broken his knuckles on other bodies enough times that his sense of injury is duller than it should be, numbed by the anesthetic of that thrill when he grazes Noctis's chin.
As soon as his arm is grabbed he's braced for recoil, core muscles tight against the inevitable collision of a knee to his gut. The wind is briefly knocked out of him; it takes a few harsh breaths to get it back. He snarls like a mad dog when Noctis puts distance between them — and as an ally he might admire the lithe movements of the other man's body, the deftness and dexterity of every dodge, but it isn't on Cain's mind. He just feels that conflagration of all the emotion pent up inside of him, burning for release.
The insult is met with a dark scowl.]
Fucking try me, asshole. C'mere!
[Cain doesn't avoid the next lunge. Grappling is familiar — he lets Noctis sweep his legs, but only so he can get his arms around him too, throwing them both into the sand with a heave of strength. Rolling, then, in an attempt to get Noctis underneath his superior bulk because it's crucial in that moment not to let him have any give, any possible leverage for either escape or assault.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
We've dragged Jonas in enough. I'm talking about me and you.
And I'm asking what you think, not what it is if I say yes or no. I want you to be honest with me
no subject
why do you get to tell me what to do?
how is anything i said not honest?
no subject
Everything I ask you make me work for even though you expect me to be open with you. Then I do it and you ice me out again. So what are we doing?
Idk how you feel about it bc you won't tell me, so explain where that's "honest"
no subject
i said, "if you want to be"
you always come at me with an attitude like this, and you think i'm gonna want to speak my mind?
no subject
Is it Cain? No, not if everyone else is able to talk to him so damn easily. So it's him, then? Why– ]
So it's just what I want?
You don't get why that answer might piss me off, when I'm the one who's been honest with you from the beginning?
"Ty krutoy", is that you telling the truth?
no subject
you make it sound like being friends is just so easy to do
like we're kids on a playground playing games
maybe it is easy for you and jonas, but it's not for me
how do you even know what that says
no subject
You're the first person I've ever asked but why would yk that, just assume instead
[ Jonas approached him, Prompto approached him, Ignis and Gladio were assigned to him... Isn't this the first time he's actually tried to make a friend himself? Maybe he should take how it's going as some kind of sign. ]
You told me to figure it out so I did. You're not the only one that speaks it and ik you've met Reze. I figured you were insulting me like usual, so finding out you weren't made me think this was a good convo to have
Clearly I was wrong
1/2
why are you making this into such a big deal?
[He should've expected it. He didn't think they knew each other — but it's not like they're a large group of people, and hasn't he already clarified that Noctis is nosy? No one's asking Cain questions like he is. Not even Jonas.]
so you cheated and asked someone instead of doing it yourself
cool
2/2
what are you even talking about, the first person you've ever asked?
why do you need to ask? i sent a whole stupid video! why would i just do that for no reason?
i barely talk to anyone but the two of you. haven't told anyone a fucking thing, but the two of you.
and why does it MATTER what i think when you're checked out from the beginning? i don't know if you're coping or what, but you're the one who doesn't wanna be here. who knows what's going to happen tomorrow. you fucked up your leg, jonas almost fucking died. would've if i wasn't there.
just tell me what you want
no subject
Because of the video. Because of the late night chats. Hell, because of a stupid misfired picture that left him confused and jealous of his friends, but one that Cain had actually shown remorse over. It helped smooth over an impossible situation, and it was a time that he could've easily dug in and teased Noctis but he didn't. He was conscientious, even.
And when the second text comes, his decision feels more justified.
Because here, he shows up with all the anger and emotion Noctis had been waiting for. The honesty. And it feels good. ]
What the hell is that? Don't pull that shit on me, like I'm crazy for asking
When you go back and forth between acting like I'm an idiot for trying to know you and being friendly with me. You sent a video? Yeah I sent you shit too! I told you I liked fighting with you and that's still true. I like when you message me bc maybe I'll actually hear smth about your life or you'll call me an asshole and I can call you one back
"Tell me what you want" fuck YOU over what I want, I messaged you tonight didn't I? Did I not make it obvious enough?
The only thing you're right about is that I shouldn't be doing this bc I need to get out of here, but here I am anyway. Still talking to you. So call me a prick again for that, I deserve it
no subject
This isn't fun.]
i'm not a good person
i'm not what you or jonas think i am at all, okay?
i'm a fuck-up, and a coward, and a criminal
so maybe both of you should just leave me alone
no subject
And you don't get to choose what I do.
[ His heart's racing. It feels like they're on the precipice of something, and he knows exactly how hard he's pushing him. It feels like there's only one way both of them can handle that without shutting down. ]
Fight me. You beat me and I'll do w/e you want, I'll back off
no subject
when/where? i don't want to get interrupted this time.
no subject
Deal
We can fly our ships further out past camp or we can head back to the Theorem. If we're staying on planet then dusk, before it's too cold. You choose.
no subject
[Less noticeable than going back up where the scanners will track them, and it means they can return to camp faster if they need to.]
don't let anyone see you.
no subject
Send the coords early.
[ He's still getting used to flying, and the last thing he wants is to be late. ]
no subject
Cain scrubs his face and lays back on his cot, tense with suspended energy. Nothing to do but wait.]
no subject
A fight now almost two months in the making, from the point their last one was interrupted. Before he was worked up by a desire to make things even, then excitement over facing Cain on their own terms. As sparring partners, not as outright enemies. Now... he isn't sure what they are, and maybe that's why they need this so badly. Cain isn't the only one who deals better with fists than words.
He's early, as predicted.
It gives him more time than he wants to sit in his ship and think, back to when they first fought and a distant argument that seems harder and harder to define with time. All of their arguments feel like that, though. Quick to come, quick to go, all from one wrong step here or there. Fuck, he's so annoying... so why does that make him want him around even more?
He sees the ship well before it lands with little around them to catch the eye, crawling out of his own cockpit while Cain circles the dune. That well-worn black shirt has at least been washed by now, jacket discarded in the day's residual heat, and it's clear just by looking at him that he has nothing else on him. No weapons, nothing, just a bag with basic supplies that he drops onto the sand beneath their ships as Cain lands and his cockpit opens. ]
Hey.
No knives this time?
no subject
Of course he's already seen Noctis, and if he's annoyed that he's early he doesn't show it. The question is met with a sneer.]
Are you seriously asking me that?
[Cain is wearing a neutral outfit in his usual style, black cargo pants and a tightly fitted sleeveless shirt exposing his two mostly healed injuries: the first on his upper arm that Noctis will recognize from their time during the storm, clean cut faded to a pink line; and the second on his forearm, much less neat in its inevitable scarring, where he was mauled by a barren-racer. His hands are pocketed as he approaches, black eyes fixed on Noctis in an unrelenting stare.]
You wanna pat me down just to be sure?
no subject
Friend. Right. Or whatever the fuck they are now. ]
Nah. You pull that shit on me again and I know how to handle you. It'd just be one more sign that you've lost.
[ If there were any doubts regarding the energy he'd bring to this fight, he dashes them immediately. He's still keyed up, a lithe but well-muscled body as tense as Cain's when he comes to a stop just a few feet from him. Fingers adjust the single glove on his left hand as boots toe at sand, the jagged edge of his own scar barely visible beneath loose high-cut fatigues. Black on black, a terrible choice in days as brutal as this, under a sun which has darkened his own olive skin and just made steely blue eyes shine brighter beneath a dark fringe of hair. ]
Anything you wanna' change about your rules? This is your chance.
no subject
There's a lot on the line. More than the petty skirmishes of hierarchy and dominance so frequent among Fighters. Still, when he closes the distance between them, Cain's expression changes — maybe he's feeding off the energy between them, a natural transformation from scowl to the taunting smirk he wields now.]
Another chance? You're being way too nice, printsessa.
[Spoken out loud, there's no denying what that means, unlike when he'd written it in Cyrillic letters. Cain takes another step, edging into Noctis's personal space with no remorse — right up in his face for the intimidation act the same as last time, undaunted as he gazes into blue eyes.
He wants to see if he'll flinch. How much this boundary can be pushed, how far he can take it before Noctis loses nerve.]
Or are you just buying time?
[There isn't much daylight left; the sun's vanishing fast, horizon a deep plum color fading to black, stars already freckling the expanse above. Maybe he should've left the lights of his ship on so they wouldn't be fighting in the dark, but Cain's past caring about that.]
no subject
[ Which makes Cain as eager to engage in their back and forth banter as he is, a fact he feels especially keen to highlight considering the terms of their fight. All he has to do is be faster, hit harder, and stay more motivated than Cain is. The third won't be a problem.
His chin lifts as Cain draws closer, distance shrunk with each step but he now knows it as a familiar technique, remembering last time how quick he'd been to draw attention to their difference in size. Now, however, his eyes are only on Cain's, searching for mental weakness instead of a physical one. ]
Ten seconds down, then it's over. You're gonna' make that way too easy for me if you stay in my fucking face.
[ That smirk. It's impossible to look away from even as he moves almost imperceptibly, the soft digging of the back of one heel into sand the only sign he gives before his fist is swinging forward for a swift right, directed right at that cocky mouth. ]
no subject
Ten seconds down, then it's over. They'll have to hit each other real fucking hard to accomplish that.
Good.
There's no more thinking then, just the swing of a fist at his face. Cain brings up his forearm to block the heavy hit; his own boots dig into the unsteady grit of sand, stabilizing him as he hooks his other arm in a nasty uppercut aimed up at Noctis's chin. Like before, his brawling style uses power as much as speed with the intent to deny Noctis precious recovery time.]
no subject
It's a strange feeling. It isn't that he hasn't experienced pain in too long, used to it on the daily back in Eos where here the only stings have come from a single prolonged injury. He still felt it. And he still feels the aches of a much older one, chronic discomfort something he's come to accept and become accustomed to since he was a child. But this? It feels different taking a blow to the face, something so deeply satisfying in a tapestry of bruises that always faded too fast on his body – but not here.
Besides... he wants to know how punishing Cain's fists are.
It glances off his jaw as he jerks his head back, arm suddenly raising to lock around Cain's and hold him steady for the jab of a knee right into his gut. Before that location had been dicey, the site of a healing gunshot wound he'd been so angry over accidentally exploiting. Now it's free game.
Just like the rest of him as they trade jabs and he tries to mark up a body already littered with scars, faring better when he's able to keep his distance for backflip dodges or rapid sidesteps, but too motivated by his own desire to cause hurt to listen to reason. By the time they've locked themselves in another tussle, tracks left in the sand from their skirmish, he doesn't realize he's wearing that same expression Cain had earlier – though this smirk is breathless. ]
You think that's good enough? You're gonna' have to hit me harder... I told you I didn't want to fight a coward.
[ Exactly what Cain admitted he was, just a few short hours ago. It fuels him for his next rush forward, sweeping low at his legs to try to knock him down. ]
no subject
As soon as his arm is grabbed he's braced for recoil, core muscles tight against the inevitable collision of a knee to his gut. The wind is briefly knocked out of him; it takes a few harsh breaths to get it back. He snarls like a mad dog when Noctis puts distance between them — and as an ally he might admire the lithe movements of the other man's body, the deftness and dexterity of every dodge, but it isn't on Cain's mind. He just feels that conflagration of all the emotion pent up inside of him, burning for release.
The insult is met with a dark scowl.]
Fucking try me, asshole. C'mere!
[Cain doesn't avoid the next lunge. Grappling is familiar — he lets Noctis sweep his legs, but only so he can get his arms around him too, throwing them both into the sand with a heave of strength. Rolling, then, in an attempt to get Noctis underneath his superior bulk because it's crucial in that moment not to let him have any give, any possible leverage for either escape or assault.]
(no subject)
[harrison's all the things she said playing in the bg]
i had to listen to it for this tag you MONSTER
😇 but also... cw for dubcon... cries
cw for biting 😭
they're in it now lads
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀