Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's been five days and he hasn't spoken a single word to you. You've barely even seen him; you only know he's still around and hasn't hurled himself off the airship because your crewmates keep you updated on catching glimpses of him here and there. The dog walks around like he owns the ship, and he isn't whining like he did before you brought him his owner back, so that's another thing that clues you in that yes, Shadow's still around.

Tonight, you find him at the bar. You meant to give him some time. To… to regroup his thoughts, maybe. Situate himself. It must have been enough, right?

He's sitting by the counter, motionless, like he just died sitting up somehow. Doesn't make his aura any less threatening, especially with his ever-loyal pooch lying by his feet. Not that you'd call Interceptor, the man-eating dog, a 'pooch' to Shadow's face.

You barely know each other; you remember waiting for him as that floating continent was about to fall, but you didn't exactly have time to get acquainted then. You only talked to him after you found him at the Veldt cave and brought him to Thamasa. But it was mostly to make sure he was recovering from his wounds. The next time you saw each other was at the Coliseum, and he praised your fighting prowess, which surprised you, and from then on, he was part of the band. It took a while to reunite everyone else again and dispose of Kefka, but still there were very few words exchanged between you. You even tried, but more often than not, whenever you caught his eye, he seemed to be sending you a deadly glare. Which by now you're coming to realize it might just be his default expression.

Still…

You can't deny feeling a certain kinship for him that you didn't for any of the others. Maybe because he was obviously just as lonely as you; the kind of loneliness that is self-imposed. A punishment you're unsure you still deserve. So, you must talk to him now. Would a regular icebreaker suffice? Well, it's not like you're planning to bed him; the mere thought sends a shiver of terror down your spine. But you must talk to him now.

"Say, do you come here often?" He doesn't even acknowledge you. You smile and shake your head, sitting a couple of stools from him, wondering why he's just been staring at his glass for over half an hour instead of drinking it. "You do know you'll have to remove your cowl if you plan on drinking that, right?" Still nothing. You really didn't want to start off with the hard questions, but you see no other option. "What about her?"

Finally, Shadow's eyes shift to meet yours, the silent question in them should be enough for you to elaborate, but you don't. "Who?"

"You know, our little pictomancer." You return his harsh glare with the same intensity. "She has your eyes."

Something dangerous flashes across said eyes, and if you weren't so focused, you probably would have missed the minute change in them. Then he just stares daggers at you, which seems very appropriate for him, before returning them to the counter that holds his untouched drink. "I don't see how this is any of your business."

"I mean," you draw a pack of cards from one of your many pockets and start shuffling them. "A little life-saving here, a couple of Hi-Potions there… you might in fact be in my debt right now."

He exhales loudly. "I don't recall asking for any salvation. In fact, I specifically told you to--"

"To leave you there, yes, yes, I know. But what kind of friend would I be if I did that? Well, maybe 'friend' is going too far, but you are my companion, at the very least. We've traveled together, we've fought together against a common enemy. We've saved the world together. Do you understand how absurd it is that you're asking me why I didn't leave you to die under a pile of rubble?"

"It's what I deserved!" Immediately he seems taken aback by his own outburst and quickly recomposes himself, going back to staring at the glass of ignored booze. He didn't even raise his voice; the self-loathing was loud enough.

"Alright, let's start from there. Can you elaborate?" This whole time it had been eating at you. The fact that he stayed behind on purpose, on a collapsing tower. Which is why you asked about the girl; you figured it would be less abrasive than to just straight up ask if he really wanted to die.

"Let's not. Do I look like the type of person who goes around yapping about their life?"

You cross your arms, leaning back to examine him. Despite sounding defeated just a moment ago, he seems ready to rearrange your face if you so much as breathe the wrong word. But what is life without a little danger? "No, that's right, you're the mystery man, with the mysterious life and the mysterious face. Who mysteriously isn't drinking something he supposedly ordered."

His sudden chuckle surprises you when you see actual mirth in his (mysterious) eyes. "Why does this upset you so much? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

You don't let yourself get detracted by the fact that he keeps evading every single one of your queries. What matters is that he's speaking. "I just want you to loosen up and relax. We've won. The world, despite having gone half to shit, is still saved, and even healing, possibly. The big bad villain was defeated. Whatever it is that you have or want to do can't be so urgent that you can't take some time to enjoy the peace a little." 

He stays quiet for a long moment you don't dare to interrupt, lest he stops talking again. "… I haven't drunk this because it smells foul. Where do you keep the quality goods?"

You reach into a hidden compartment under the bar, bringing out a simple yet stylish bottle. "This is ancient, and I'm not just talking decades. Last one ever made of its kind." His eyes move from you to the bottle. "And you want me to waste it on you."

He nods. "Yes."

You're sure he can tell you were just teasing him, so you grab a couple of glasses and uncork the bottle. "Yes, alright." You're not really one to hold onto worldly possessions, and this seems like a good time as any to break out the fine liquor. And to be fair, you're not only trying to get him drunk, but yourself as well. You're a fun-loving guy, and it is a… day of the week, after all. "Where's my barkeep anyway?"

"Interceptor growled at him and he had somewhere else to be." He reaches down to pet the dog.

You sigh. That guy was always a spineless loser. You just wonder where he ran off to. Well, better if you want to have a more private conversation; you can always fill in the post at the next town you land. You fill both glasses to the brim and slide one to him across the counter, watching him expectantly, wondering if he'll unmask. But he just raises the cowl over his lips and takes a sip. Even though it just spikes your curiosity, you find it amusing. "Why so much mystery anyway?" 

He glares at you, explaining as if you were a child. "I have a compromising job. If you saw my face, I'd have to kill you."

You absolutely do not tell him you think he's being just a tad dramatic. You do love a little bit of drama yourself. "I'd never sell you out, no matter what you may think of me." 

He takes another sip, a longer one this time. "Appreciate it. I'd sell you for the right price."

"Oh, thank you. Thanks. That's such a comforting thought." At his prolonged silence, you go fiddle with the jukebox.

"What are you doing?"

You shrug. "Setting up the ambiance." You land on a song you don't promptly recognize, but it seems to suit Shadow. The foreboding guitar, the whistling. It almost sounds like it was made for him. "There we go." Deciding to push your luck, you sit next to him when you return to the bar. "So… tell me everything about yourself. Your dark, tempestuous past. Your hopes and dreams for the future. Your deepest and most shocking secrets."

"No."

"Wonderful! What if I gambled you for it, though?"

Even though you can't see his face, he seems aggravated. "Is that your answer for everything?"

"Well, yes. I'm a gambler." You place the deck you've been playing with on the counter and produce a pair of dice from another pocket. Searching a little further, you come up with a gold coin, which you silently flash both sides of at Shadow. "I'll even let you choose the game."

He cursorily examines the items while you try to hide your excitement. "If I win?"

You're so hellbent on winning you didn't even think about that. "I'll… do whatever you want for a day."

"Week."

"… Three days?"

"Five."

You sigh. "Fine. Maid outfits are out, just so you know. And if I win, you'll answer all my questions." And you can't try to kill yourself again, you almost add, but you finally managed to lighten the mood, you're not going to sour it again. At least not until he talks about it.

"Blackjack's fine by me."

Since both your glasses have miraculously emptied, you retrieve the bottle to refresh them, while gesturing for Shadow to shuffle and cut the deck.

Ten rounds. You win the first one, he wins the next three, and so it goes until, by the end, the score is Shadow six, you four. You increase your wager to ten days if he accepts a do-over. But he shakes his head.

"A bet's a bet, gambler."

"… Alright, I'll throw in the maid outfit. And I'll call you 'master' the entire time." Shadow takes a breath as if he's going to say something, but stops. Then he tries again and once again he fails. "Oh, you seem to have finished your drink. Let me refill your glass for you, master." You wink at him as you do just that. "Just a freebie."

His eyes never leave yours as he drinks the fresh glass and ponders over the magical possibilities of having Setzer Gabbiani as his willing slave for ten days. Probably. "A do-over, you say?" He shrugs. "What do I have to lose, besides my right to privacy?"

It makes you feel a little guilty, but the ball is in his court. You hold his gaze unwavering, wondering if his dark eyes entice you more with every minute that passes because you're finally getting acquainted, or because it's the only part of his face you can see. While you did get a glimpse of his lips the first time he took a sip of the liquor, they would always be hidden behind the glass or his hand every time you tried to get another peek afterwards. But you still remember their shape and color. 

You can't lie to yourself. Deep down, you're pretty sure you know what it is. "Wait." He just glowers, waiting for you to continue. "Shouldn't you also raise my reward?"

He scoffs. "No. You're the one who's bargaining. I owe you nothing."

"I have a proposal, then." You just can't help yourself. Sometimes a fair maiden will completely steal your heart for a couple of hours. Or an intriguing gent. And while you could easily seduce the underpants off of either of them, whenever you have the chance to make things more fun, you take it. And you've never met anyone quite as intriguing as Shadow. So… "How about for an extra prize… whoever wins also wins the loser for the night?" 

Of course, it is only after you've spoken that it dawns on you what you've just done. In your drunken state, you completely forgot you were not at a tavern surrounded by all manners of people waiting for you to give them the time of day. Instead, you're in the presence of a cold assassin with nothing to lose, and now you probably have seconds to live. Is he going to stab you or have Interceptor eat you?

He laughs. Shadow laughs. "I see. You're just horny." And while he's right on the money that yes, you do get horny pretty much every time you have a little too much to drink, you can't pretend you're not interested anymore. On the entire mystery that is Shadow. And if you're being honest, you don't think you even did that great a job of hiding it. "Thought you had your eye on the rune knight." Interesting that he noticed. Hey, remember when you weren't planning to bed him? What happened with that?

"You mean the rune knight that would knock on the treasure hunter's door every night they were aboard? Yes, I'm long over that." Actually, you're really happy for them.

Shadow nods, and from his eyes, you want to believe he's smiling. "Alright. This does make it more interesting. So let's cut the preamble." He gestures at the coin. "Since I'm in the lead, I'll call it." You nod and toss the coin high up in the air. "Tails." When it lands,  you open your palm and show him, your eyes never leaving his.

"Heads. Two out of three? Think I owe you to offer it."

He shakes his head, still seemingly amused. "Unlike you, I accept my losses." He raises his empty glass, and you ignore his jab and refill it once again, doing the same with yours. Despite knowing you have a nigh flawless poker face, you know at least some of your excitement must be showing. "Anything you hear tonight might put you in peril of death, do you still accept it?"

Well, that sounds awfully dangerous. "What, like your past acquaintances might come after me from knowing about their existence?"

"No, but I might kill you afterwards if I deem you're not worthy of trust after all."

"Excellent!" You clink your glass to his. "I accept."

Shadow narrows his eyes. "You don't believe me?"

"Well, I trust you. And I'm not afraid to die."

"... I can see that." He downs his glass in one shot. "So be it. Ask your questions."

"Why…" Just then you realize this might not be as easy as you thought it would be, especially with the liquor muddling your thoughts. You have to think carefully to find the right words. "Why did you stay behind?"

At first glance, his eyes look serene when he closes them, but you can tell there's torment behind them. So much torment. "There's someone I wanted to meet."

When he doesn't continue, you figure he'll have one answer for each question, so you move on. "Do you still keep in touch with Relm's mother?"

"She's dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry." A dead lover in his past, much like you. Is she the one… "Why--" No, you can't. Even if you're in the right to do so, it still seems too intrusive and none of your business to ask why he left Relm. You want to know because you care about her; you've grown fond of her during your travels. She's strong, funny and wise beyond her years. But you could always tell something was missing from her smiling face. Something you're not even sure Shadow can give her. Or if he wants to. So you let it go. "Are you still going to… do you still want to meet that person?"

"I…" He lowers his head. "I'm not sure if it was a hallucination, it felt different from my dreams. But we did meet. Minutes before your meddling--"

"My saving you."

"Shut up." He drops his hand, and Interceptor nuzzles it. "He's always so mad at me in the damn dreams. But on that day, he was… he told me to move on. Whether it was real or not, I still…" Shadow seems to catch himself, as if he regrets saying too much. You both remain silent for a long moment.

"Listen. Forget the bet for now. I just wish you'd tell me what happened between you two. If you want to, not as one of my questions." It's not Relm's mother. This guy, whoever he is, is the crux of the entire thing. The source of his agony. And you don't want him to feel like he's being forced to talk about it.

"I'm… going to pretend you didn't say that." Instead of waiting for you to refill his glass again, he takes the bottle and does it himself. "You don't need to know the circumstances. But he was injured, fatally so. And I couldn't take care of him, couldn't take him to the next town over. It was too late. He was beyond the help of a Potion or a Phoenix Down. So he asked me to…" Shadow breathes out a humorless chuckle. "It's funny. Today my blade is stained by the blood of so many, but back then I had never killed anyone. And he wanted me to start with him." He shakes his head. "Idiot. How could I?"

Two dead lovers? "… So you…"

"I ran away. I abandoned him. I left him to suffer and die on his own. And now he haunts me."

"Does he? Or do you haunt yourself? Didn't he tell you to--"

"That was an illusion. He wasn't exactly the forgiving type."

You know this is the time. You have to say the right thing. Not that you know exactly what that thing is, but you'll try. "Shadow, I… I lost someone too. Someone so deeply important. When I found her, it had been a year since she vanished. I buried her myself. Her broken remains would always appear in my dreams to the point I tried sleeping as little as I could. I spent so many nights awake, thinking, what if I had done something differently. Would she still be alive? And you know what? All that thinking led me nowhere. I know our stories are vastly different, but what I learned is that you have to let go." You tap your temple. "Your mind doesn't like it when you just live in the past. It's not good for you, it's not good for anyone."

"Are you done with the questions?" With a sign from his hand, the dog gets up and leaves, probably to wherever it is they've been rooming.

Are you? You don't want to miss the opportunity, but this was mostly to try to get through to him that whatever he was planning on doing was not worth it, and you have no idea if you did. "Can you… would you come talk to me if… if your thoughts trouble you?" His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, as if he weren't expecting a question like that. He studies you for a moment and closes them, and you can do nothing but take that as an answer, hopefully a positive one. "Thank you." And because he seems ready to be done with this and move on to the next part… "Now… I know we talked a lot about death, so how about a 'little death' instead?"

***

While you don't have a music player in your room, messing about with your various lamps also helps to create the desired atmosphere. Some you turn on, others off. Although…

"I don't know why I'm going through all this trouble instead of turning them all off. If I have to look at you butt naked but still wearing a mask, I think I'm going to--"

You look back at Shadow while you're speaking, and he's carelessly tossing all your throw pillows on the floor to make room on the bed, mumbling something about how of course you'd have a canopy bed.

And as an absolute power move, he is, in fact, completely naked. 

Mask and all. 

It sobers you up immediately. At once, you notice three things:

1. From his state of arousal, it doesn't seem he's here just to indulge one of your whims.
2. While you're not exactly lacking in the muscle department, the fact that he's so ridiculously ripped and could probably snap you like a twig with his pinky is terrifying in a disturbingly sexy manner. The few scars on his body seem ancient, much more so than your own battle badges.
3. His face is, simply put, stunning. 

When he catches you gawking, you close your mouth, which you didn't even realize was hanging open. "What is it now? As if dealing with your continuous stare at the back of my neck before you sat at the bar wasn't enough." 

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting all that…" you clumsily twirl a hand in front of yourself, trying to convey without words what you mean. "Face," you finish lamely.

Shadow frowns. "You… thought I didn't have one?" He climbs on the bed as if it were his own.

Truth be told, unless you're randomly infatuated with someone, looks were never important to you, you'd get with whoever made you feel good. But it's still interesting when someone of that… caliber appears. Your friends are attractive. Terra. Edgar. Particularly Celes. But none of them have anything on the mysterious assassin, who keeps it all covered anyway. Shame. Truly a waste. 

"No, never mind." To think those tempestuous eyes were just the beginning. His high cheekbones make him look like something you'd see at a temple. And you probably could measure your airship's prints with the sharp angles of his jawline. You had already gotten a glimpse of his lips, but you can see them properly now, and they look even more sinful than you remembered, plump and enticing. His short hair, which strangely looks to be really soft, is the exact same color as your favorite kupo nuts cake.

… Your mind's spouting poetry about a ruthless killer that's lying naked on your bed. Not even you could have predicted the odds of something like that ever happening.

He genuinely doesn't seem to have any idea what's going through your head right now, and you certainly won't be the one to tell him.

Not when he's lying sideways on your silk sheets, one leg bent, lazily stroking his considerable cock and still watching you as if you were a freak. Probably because there's a spectacle going on in your bed and you still have all your clothes on.

You pull on your ascot with one hand, tossing it in a different dimension, probably. Coat meets floor in milliseconds. Everything else comes out in a flash, and you join him on the bed.

But you hesitate.

Shadow stops stroking himself to lean against the headboard with both hands resting behind his head. He looks mildly annoyed. "Do you need a written invitation?" 

From his stance, his words, the bedroom eyes, his now fully erect member lying in wait against his stomach, it's more than obvious he's interested. Yet you have the feeling you'll end up with his dagger on your throat. 

Because it's time to end this. You don't know how long you would have stretched the farce. You knew from the start you wouldn't be able to go through with it. Not even you are that scummy.

Even if you are dying to climb that mountain.

"Listen, I'm not going to. I'm sorry. I just wanted you to open up to me. The game was rigged. You're the winner."

Shadow doesn't bat an eye. "I know. You count cards and swap coins. I've seen a certain king using that one before. I'm pretty sure even that dice was loaded." 

What, he… knew? You don't even know how to process this information right now. "… You're not mad?"

"Do you think you'd still be breathing if I were?" 

"Alright, fair enough." Does he want you to go on then? "Oh wait. I've seen it. I've seen your face now. So, what, are you going to kill me?" 

If the fact that you sound curious instead of terrified annoys him, he doesn't show. "Well, gambler." He leans towards you and pulls on a curly strand of your silver hair that's dangling over your face. "It'll depend on how well you can satisfy me. If you show me a good enough time, I'll think about sparing you." 

You leap from the bed so fast you fear that strand of hair is still in his grip. Then you're digging through your drawers and cabinets, searching without much hope. When even was the last time you brought someone on board with that purpose? Whenever you do indulge in carnal pleasures, it's usually taverns and brothels and other houses of entertainment, and they always provide whatever items you might require. 

At last, you find a yellowed jar of vaseline buried in the deep recesses of your commode. You triumphantly come back to bed with it, but Shadow is unimpressed. "Isn't that expired?"

You try to look the most insulted you possibly can. "Of course not! I'm… I'm sure I bought this last week when we were in Albrook."

"It's clearly from before the world fell into ruins."

"Look, it's all I have, alright?" You sigh, trying not to despair. "It would probably be dried out if it was bad, right?" You open the container and cautiously smell it. It's vaguely oilier than you remember, and you stick a finger in it. It's soft. So you lather your finger on the clearly not spoiled vaseline, raising your eyebrows at Shadow as if to say, "See? I told you it was fine, it's just as fresh and malleable as the day I bought it!" 

But he just sighs, raising one leg so he can hold his knee against his chest. "I don't actually care."

You try not to dwell on the alluring display too long, as he's clearly waiting for you to go on. Your fingers breach him easily, and he takes his cock in hand again, stroking casually, following the movements of your hand. The sight is so delectable you find yourself wishing you hadn't cheated.

"This should be enough." His voice wakes you from a trance you didn't notice you had gotten into while watching his hand moving over himself.

"Right." You wipe your fingers carelessly on the sheets and take the leg he was holding to hook it around your waist. While you usually close your eyes at first entry so you can feel that friction a little bit more intensely, you don't want to miss the opportunity to see his face in pleasure, so you focus your gaze on him as you go in, but to your disappointment, his expression remains stoic. Not even a gasp or a frown. And most certainly not a moan.

When you start to move, you do close your eyes, and when you open them again, you wish you hadn't. He's watching himself, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. But he looks terribly bored, and it disconcerts you a little. You've never been with someone so blasé towards sex. And while you've always been first and foremost concerned about chasing your own pleasure, this just doesn't sit right with you. So you shift your hips this way and that with long, deep thrusts, carefully trying to find a position that will entice him. Shadow hums in a way you feel you should be insulted.

Gorgeous or not, he annoys you.

When you're positive you've found his prostate and have been consistently hitting it over and over, he finally makes a sound, but one that makes you stop dead in your tracks when you look at his face and confirm that's what he's doing.

He's

Stifling

A yawn.

I'm sorry? Excuse me? Pardonnez the fuck out of moi? You've never had any complaints before, so you know you're most certainly not the problem. Your eye twitches while you try to keep your composure. You can't even enjoy his tightness like this. "Excuse me, your highness. Are my techniques not to your liking?" 

"Oh no, it's great, keep going." His monotone voice kind of makes you want to punch him in the face a little.

"Really, now? Do you think you can do better?"

"As a matter of fact…" With one hand he touches your waist while the other grabs your shoulder. In a blink, he's flipped you both. You don't want to admit it, but being actually able to feel it, to be a part of one of his swift moves, was pretty damn exciting. Then he's sinking back on you, knees on the bed and holding the headboard with one hand, staring down at you with a shit-eating grin. You're about to tell him to piss off when he starts moving.

You were always the 'making love' type. Even if you've just met the person. It was never fucking. 

Well, Shadow's into fucking. Hard. Being on the receiving end of a romp like that would probably leave you battered and bruised for days, you can only imagine. He traces the huge scar on your chest with a finger, letting his thumb rest against your nipple. "You should save 'gentle and slow' for women, they're the ones who are into that." Well, you clearly don't know the same girls. He pinches your nipple hard, and you yelp, bucking up into him and he grins wider. "That's more like it."

His hand moves down your chest and waist, ending up on your ass, which he grabs to bring against himself every time he comes down on you. 

Shadow's like a hurricane. A cataclysm. In a good way.

"Shadow stop… it's too good…"

He snorts. "… Isn't that the whole point of having sex?"

"Yes, but…" You can't even explain yourself, because the next time you drive into him, you come so hard you go blind. Whether temporarily or not, you can't even bring yourself to care.

When your vision does come back, the first thing you see is his deadly glare. While he holds a dagger to your throat.

"… Where do you even keep that?!"

"You know, I don't see much benefit in sparing your life right now." Despite the menacing tone, you're sure you can hear a bit of amusement in his voice. Or at least you hope so.

"Wait! Wait! We're not done. I give good… I give great head, I swear!"

He climbs off of you, waiting for you to sit up. His dagger has magically vanished, so you don't waste another moment thinking about it. "Thought you said you weren't afraid of dying."

When you're sitting against the headboard, you gesture for him to come closer. "Are you kidding me? Who would want to die after coming like that?" You waste no time getting him down your throat, while fondling his sack in an admittedly harsher manner you'd like done on yourself, but you have the feeling he'll enjoy, and getting three fingers back into him. If you haven't learned by now how he likes it, you might as well let him stab you. And while you were fully prepared for him to viciously fuck your face, he's given the reins back to you.

You open your eyes when you feel his hand on your face and a thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, at least you weren't lying about that."

Doesn't like being gentle, he says. Yet he touches you like that, looking so soft. Makes your stomach flutter in a way you're not sure you like.

You've no idea how long it has been, your throat's raw and your jaw hurts, but your fingers still work incessantly against his sweet spot while you swallow around him over and over, and he tousles your hair as if you were a baby moogle. It feels like the more you know of Shadow, the more enigmatic he becomes. Even his come isn't as bitter as you imagined it'd be when it hits your tongue. He does come silently like you thought he would, though, not even a sigh. Then he pulls entirely away from you and tangles himself in your sheets without another word.

Watching him curling up on himself as he dozes off sends a surprising rush of poignant affection crashing over you. An unexpected wave that warms your heart and freezes your stomach. And feels positively terrifying if you think about it too much.

You wonder how painfully he'd kill you if you tried to spoon him, and decide it'd be safer to stay on your side of the bed.

***

Judging by the expansive plains underneath, you'd say you're currently above the Veldt. They're greener and greener every time you fly over them. The world really is healing. If you weren't so high up, you could probably even see Gau down there, running with the beasts.

Mornings were always great on an airship. Bright sky, soft clouds over the tops of mountains, a clearly aroused naked man standing closely behind you. Well, maybe that last one is a bit of an anomaly. It does make you weary that you didn't hear him approach you, but you quickly remember. Silent assassin; he wouldn't be very good at his job if you had heard him.

You went to get a drink for your hangover, but it's so hot you didn't think it was worth it. Without turning, you offer him the mug. "Coffee?"  

Shadow takes the steaming mug, drinks the scalding liquid in one gulp and sets it aside. Then you consider the possibility that you might still be dreaming, because in the next moment, he's brushing your hair aside and tracing the long scar that runs across your shoulder blades. With his tongue. The jolt of pleasure this sends down your entire body wakes you up more than any coffee ever did. When you lean back, he grabs your shoulders to pull you against him so his mouth can move down your neck and his hands can roam your body. You reach back to tangle your fingers in his hair, which really is as soft as it looks. And when his hands reach your ass, you instinctively open your legs, and he gets even closer, grinding that hard flesh against your backside so sensually that alone is enough to have you chanting his name.

"Shadow… Shadow…" He whispers something in your ear. Another name. "Hmm?"

"That's what I want you to call me right now."

"… Clyde?"

"If it leaves this room, you're a dead man."

"Hmm, yes, yes. You're killing me already."

Somehow his fingers are already slick when they enter you, and you can tell it's not saliva, but the damn expired vaseline you should have replaced ages ago. At least if you get a rash, you'll both suffer through it together.

He doesn't linger, only getting enough to ensure he'll slide right in, and you brace yourself against the window in apprehensive anticipation.

Shadow (or Clyde between four walls) pulls you by the hips, spreads your cheeks open and buries himself to the hilt in one thrust. You grit your teeth, trying not to think about Lilia and her zucchini so long ago. "You want it slow?"

You're so glad he asked; you remember having qualms about it last night. "Yes, please. I'd like to retain my ability to walk, you know."

"Suit yourself." He pulls almost all the way out, then goes back in aggravatingly slow. Each inch feels like it's chipping away at your sanity. In and out. In and out. Ever so fucking slowly. Suddenly, walking seems overrated.

"You know what, I changed my mind. Let me have it, come on." 

He hums as if deep in thought. "No. But I do want to ravish you." He keeps the mind-breakingly slow pace, so slow you have the feeling he's actually waiting for a reply.

"Yes, good, ravish away. I approve of that thought. Bon appétit." 

"… It's your funeral." And what could he mean by that? 

He tongues the shell of your ear, then bites hard on the lobe. You wince, but don't move an inch away from him. His hot tongue moves frantically in your ear, the opposite of his staggering hips. It feels absurdly good and cruelly agonizing at the same time. "Shadow… Clyde… please… please…" 

"Hmm? What do you want?" His short yet surprisingly sharp nails (even they are probably weapons) climb up your stomach and his fingers find a nipple, which he squeezes, then twists hard, making you hiss. His other hand lazily follows the first one. All these little prickles of pain only serve to drive you even madder, especially when he's being so gentle with your most sensitive part. In fact, you don't think you've ever been fucked this gently. What an evil, evil man.

"For you to go faster. It's… it's not enough like this…"

His nails rake across your chest and stomach, leaving you shivering when you feel the burning welts. "Not enough for what?" 

Well, what does he think? "For me to come!"

"Why do you wanna come? We've just started." He bites on your neck, then moves down to your shoulder, and up the neck again. Your cheek is the next target, but he just nibbles without much strength. And once again, he's back on your neck, clamping his teeth and sucking, as if he's really making a meal out of you. Your throat makes a noise between a yell and a moan, but it's cut short when you feel him nibbling on your chin. You're about to turn your head to meet him, but he leans back. "Besides," his hand slides through your hair, and when he closes his fist and pulls, it feels like he's pulling on every single strand of hair on your head. The strangled noise of pleasure escapes your throat again. "You're in no position to ask for anything, only to do as you're told, in case you've forgotten." 

You bite your lip, having in fact forgotten about the bet, and wonder just how fucked you are. To be fair, you did bring this on yourself. "Alright, fine, then. So, what do you want?" Then you remember and add with a smirk: "Master?"

Clyde chuckles. "As flattering as it is, there's no need for that. Or any costumes you might be thinking of procuring. After all," He kisses your neck softly, but it still makes you flinch, since it's in the exact place he'd been gnawing on earlier. "I prefer you in the raw anyway. For now, this is all I want." The moment he finishes speaking, his hips thankfully, thankfully start to pick up speed. You sigh in content relief, reaching down to take care of yourself, but he pins both your wrists against the window. "I don't think so." The warning tone makes you dizzy. Makes you want to comply.

But still, you're nothing if not a rebel. "Clyde… come on… you know I'm not above begging. Please. Please?"

He sucks on your bruised neck, and you feel the skin on your lips break with how hard you're biting them. "Relax. I will let you come. After I do."

Yes, you're so fucking fucked. 

…

… Why is it then that you're smiling?

He releases your wrists, and you keep your arms in place because you know he'll make good on that implied threat if you go against his order, and you're not sure you can take any more of his torture, sweet though it may be. His arms hook around your chest in a tight embrace. "It won't take as long as last night, don't worry." Now that he's at a merciful speed and going up, you hope you can trust his words. While the assault on your prostate does feel incredible, you've never been able to come from just that, you do need that extra friction on your cock.

Finally, after what seems like years, he does take pity on you and palms your neglected erection, his grip so strong for a moment you almost break your nails on the window. He thrusts harder into you a few more times, then his hips halt, and so does his hand. You twitch around him when you feel him coming, silently begging for his hand to resume its activities. He kisses behind your ear and continues. "Shit. Clyde… Clyde!" With a couple more strokes, you're coming between his fingers. 

You're still recovering when he brings his hand up, and you think he's going to ask you to lick it clean, which you would have no problem doing so, but he does it instead, licking each one of his fingers and palm, while you watch entranced from the window reflection. When you meet his gaze, he kisses your shoulder, then he's just… gone. You're too tired to react properly, drowsily musing about teaching a certain someone about aftercare, and just resting your forehead against the cool glass, waiting for your breathing to go back to normal and your thoughts to start making sense again.

"Do you need help getting back to bed?" Oh, that's where he went.

"I think I can manage." While your ass is pretty much fine, your knees feel like they're supporting a collapsing tower. But you do manage.

You lie down, feeling sated with yet another earth-shattering (you suppose this expression is a faux pas nowadays) orgasm. But you're drowsy, and it's still early, so you close your eyes, sure that sleep will take you within seconds.

The blade on your throat makes it a little difficult to fall asleep, though. Oh no. How did you piss him off this time? "Clyde…"

"Killing you right now and taking the ship for myself would save me so much trouble."

While you do have a weapon within reach, you don't move. You just keep your eyes closed and take a deep breath. "Alright. I lived a good life. I've made peace with the beyond and accepted whatever fate might befall me. Let's see if you got what it takes to be part of such grandiose plans. Have at it." You don't even breathe, waiting for his next move, wondering if you'll really have time for that weapon.

After a few moments pass and you haven't died, you try to fall asleep again, but you hear metal hit the floor, then Clyde's lips are on yours. Suddenly, you're not tired anymore. You waste no time kissing him back, opening your mouth to let his tongue inside, twirling yours around it and carding your fingers through his silky hair, vaguely wondering why he goes through the trouble of caring for it when no one gets to see it. You graze the back of his neck soothingly, the pressure increasing as your nails go down his back. When they come back up, you scratch hard enough to draw blood, and he breathes sharply, stealing your air momentarily. The kiss stops, and you just stare at each other for a long moment. You raise your eyebrows. "Have you changed your mind?"

He runs a thumb through your scarred chin. "I never said I'd do it." When he touches your lip, you lick it softly. He stops glaring at you to watch your tongue in action, and you suck his thumb into your mouth. You want him again. Badly. Never mind any death threats. And given how he's already getting hard again and has been grinding against you, he's in the same predicament.

"Your stamina is remarkable." You don't really want to apologize, but you feel like you should say something about it. "Sorry for being a lazy lay last night. Would you be a gentleman and let me blame it on the booze?"

He sucks a kiss in the hollow of your throat, and you feel your entire self melting a little. "You weren't a lazy lay; I was fucking with you. You tried to deceive me, so that was payback." He smirks. "Though you did come pretty fast." 

No, absolutely not one single gentlemanly bone in his body. "Well, excuse me, but you were riding me as if the world was about to end. Again. What did you expect would happen? This is why I like nice and slow, can savor it for so much longer. Although… your way of doing things isn't so bad either." His words do make you feel better about yourself, not that you ever had any doubt about your own skills.

"Not so bad? Is that why you're trying to rip my cock off?" 

Yes, you are stroking him and yes, it is a bit frantic. "Well, I almost just died. I can't help it if I want something to take my mind off of it."

He huffs. "Don't be so dramatic, it was the dull side of my blade."

"So? Are you going to tell me to stop? I am to do as you say, after all."

He narrows his eyes. "You don't seem all that bothered by it. In fact, I'd say you're almost eager."

"Nonsense." He thrusts into your hand, and you grip him harder like he did with you. "Anyway, what do you want?" You ask eagerly.

He shakes his head, smiling a little. "Your legs around me." The moment you comply, he guides himself inside you and, despite not having the initial shock of his size since you knew what to expect this time, he still robs you of your breath when he barely gives you any time to adjust and sets a fast pace from the get-go. You're still loose enough that it doesn't really hurt all that much, but now you know you're in for some actual fucking instead of whatever that was earlier. Then he suddenly stops. "You want it slow?"

You huff and roll your eyes. "Don't be insufferable when your cock's in my ass."

He kisses your chin and starts ramming you again. "Just making sure." You pull him back to your lips, now that that threshold has been breached. You want to take your time kissing him, give him the best of two worlds; slow at first, exploring every inch of his mouth, then heating it up and sucking on his tongue before offering yours so he can do the same. It's good to finally hear pleasured noises coming from him. "Keep doing what you did before." He speaks against your lips, then licks across them to indicate that you should keep kissing him. You can only imagine he means the scratching, so you gladly do, digging your nails hard on whatever you can reach, his back, arms, chest, while he fucks into you so hard you know you'll have to forgo walking long distances for a while after all.

Not that you can't take it. While you do like being handled with care, if the other person knows what they're doing, roughing it up a little just makes you feel even more cared for. And Clyde surely knows what he's doing.

After a while, his hips ease up a little, and he stops kissing you just to go back to your neck, which you have the vague feeling is a favorite spot for him, to leave more love bites, thankfully on the side that isn't already raw. You've long abandoned the scratching in favor of just holding him against you, but when it seems like he's trying to actually draw blood from your neck, you start over, a little more savagely, to the point he stops to glare at you, but not without mirth in his eyes. "You're like a wild cat." 

"Well, and you're like a bat." You keep the staring contest for a while, until you can't take it anymore and pull him into another kiss.

You know he was lying about the blade. You can still feel it where it nicked you, and after he kissed your throat, you could taste blood in his tongue the next time you kissed. And last night, when he wasn't really being serious, you didn't feel his murderous intent like you did this morning.

But you've laid your life on the line for your friends before, and this wasn't any different. You gave him a choice, and he made the right decision, just like you did when you ignored his demand to be left alone and saved him. Maybe… No, it's too early to think about that. 

When he breaks the kiss, you watch your saliva glistening on his lips and feel a strange sense of pride. "Do you want to touch yourself?"

"Yes!" You start bringing your arm down from his back to do just that, but he grabs your wrist and kisses your palm.

"Too bad." He places your arm back around him again, and you want to cry in frustration. "But if you can come without touching yourself, I'll give you something you want."

Although you have no idea what he's talking about, it stirs your curiosity, and you get even more frustrated. "I can't…"

"Are you sure?" He leans back, sitting up and bringing you with him, and you groan when you feel him going even deeper inside you. It's almost too much. Almost. He grabs hold of your waist and starts driving into you slowly, but not agonizingly so like before. This time it feels like he's focusing solely on you, on helping you achieve the goal he himself set. It's like he's trying to make you feel every ridge and vein of his splendid manhood. It's like his cock is mapping every inch inside of you.

You can't help it and laugh at the ridiculous thought, despite the immensurable pleasure building up in your core. Having fun while having sex is something you deeply treasure, and you never thought you'd be having it with the dour, brooding man from your ragtag bunch of misfits.

He kisses your chest. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just enjoying myself. And you. Enjoying you immensely." He hums approvingly and returns his attention to your chest, licks up until he reaches your scar, then goes back to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, then switching to the other one, nibbling and flicking his tongue over it. You hope he doesn't mind your constant moaning.

He's ruining you, you're well aware no one will ever measure up to him after this. Not to mention how out of all the things he's been filling you up with, you never thought the emptiness inside your chest would be filled as well.

You can't be thinking of that right now. Not when you need to come.

"Clyde."

"Hmm?"

You clasp your arms around his head and kiss his hair gently. "Lay me down and fuck me until I come. But… if you come first, I'll give you the airship."

It's not like you meant to set up a test right in the middle of fucking. But after what happened this morning, you need to know for sure where he stands, never mind whether or not you'll make good on your word (you won't.)

His gaze on you is so icy you think you might be turning into stone. "I don't want your fucking airship." He does lay you down, though. Then he sighs, tracing the scar over your eye with his finger. "Guess I can't fault you for thinking I do. Alright then." He pins your hands against the bed and starts driving into you with renewed diligence. "You won't leave this bed until you come."

You pant, tired and breathless. "That's the sexiest thing I've ever been threatened with." 

He kisses you briskly, sucking on your lips and tongue, and you clutch his fingers on yours, feeling like the way they reciprocate is more intimate than the actual act you currently find yourself in.

You bite his lips with fervor, breathing him in when he stops the kiss and making sure to return the smoldering gaze he's giving you. "More, Clyde. Fuck me up." You dig your heels in the small of his back as you say it, encouraging him to heed your pleas.

He breathes in harshly, hips snapping and fucking you harder than before. "Setzer…"

You come so suddenly it surprises you. At once, he's sucking broken moans of his name from your lips, and all you can do is lie there and take it, all this pleasure that has been given to you. The world is just a white spot and all you want to do is absolutely nothing.

The next time you wake up, you're alone, but you can hear Clyde's voice outside your room. He's surely intimidating someone, and you want to feel bad for your crewmates, but they knew what they were getting themselves into when they chose to join you.

You can't even remember if he came, but clenching your inner muscles answers that for you, and the prospect of him coming in you after you were well passed out is way too hot for you to think about after all that just happened. 

You're spent. Sore. Absolutely battered and bruised. But satisfied like never before. Like a long-lasting thirst has finally been quenched.

Clyde slides back into the room, holding a couple of mugs and quickly closing the door. "Coffee?" 

You chuckle and sit up, reaching for him to take one, noticing he's wearing your pants and that they rake up his ankles a little since he's slightly taller than you. He's also not wearing his mask.

You try to take a sip, but it's still boiling hot, so you set the mug aside so it can cool down a little. "How can you even drink this liquid fire?"

"I like it hot." You snort, having no idea why that's funny to you. He sits down beside you. "I'm not planning on ordering you around for the entirety of those ten days, because that would actually be insufferable, so I'm just going to say everything I want at once." He brushes his thumb over your lips. "For you to wake me up with your mouth, in any way you see fit." Oh, you like that. So many possibilities. "This coffee and some hard-boiled eggs for breakfast." Eggs? His favorite food, probably. "And for you to be naked as much as possible." Well, for the sake of your crewmates, you might limit that one to the bedroom. "And…" He leans against the headboard closing his eyes. "I want you to take me somewhere."

Those are all interesting requests and easy to accomplish. He's being way more benevolent than you imagined. "Alright, just give me the directions and we'll leave whenever you're ready. So, what are you going to do now?"

He looks down on his chest where a little bit of your dried spunk still lingers. "A bath would be nice."

You smile. "Right, that's a little short term, but a good start."

"I… I think it's time I found a new job. If I'm going to be worthy of calling anyone a friend, family. Or anything else."

You feel that sneaky warmth in your chest again. "You know, my barkeep just quit."

He sighs with a little smile. "No offense, but I think I'm aiming a little higher than that."

"Whatever you say. I do pay nice wages."

"Setzer, I can't stay here."

Yesterday, you were thinking this was only going to be a one-night stand, then after you made sure he'd be alright, you'd drop him off and then you'd go back to being awkward colleagues. Hell, maybe you'd even bump uglies again if you found yourselves getting wasted in the same watering hole. 

But you can't pretend you don't notice the way Clyde looks at you. The way he touches you, as if you were something special. He sounded like he was in pain when he threatened to kill you. And you have a feeling it's not a new development. Sure, you have no way of knowing if you're right, or even for how long he's felt this way.

What you do know is that you've welcomed his affections right from the beginning. That you like it, having his eyes and hands and everything else on you. What you do know is that it's been one night and you're falling for him. The ice rocks you feel in your stomach at his words say it all.

But regardless of whether this thing between you will really turn into something serious or not, he now hopefully has a new outlook on life, and he wants to live it his own way. And you don't want to seem clingy, the mere idea of anyone behaving like that makes you uncomfortable. Still, you must let him know that he absolutely can stay if he wants to. "You want to find your place in the world; that's a journey I've taken before." You try to find the words that won't make you sound desperate. "But if you change your mind, I'm… you know. The offer stands." You wink at him to try and make the moment a little less serious. “No need to tend the bar.”

He shakes his head, eyes gloomy like they were last night when you started talking. "You forgot a question yesterday, didn't you?"

You reach for him, caressing his face. "You don't have to."

He kisses your wrist, then keeps your hand on his. "I said I'd give it to you." He takes a deep breath. "… I couldn't let my past follow me to her. And I knew it would. An acquaintance I used to do business with was murdered by people looking for me. I took care of them. They were the first, but more would come. So I left her with the old blue mage and disappeared. I knew of his abilities and that he could protect her, but I still…" He reaches down beside the bed where he discarded his clothes and brings up a ring on a chain. "This one was her mother's. Like most people from Thamasa, she was a direct descendant of the Magi. She enchanted mine, to ward off death. I gave it to Relm when I left."

He left her to protect her. Of course. If you had thought about it a little, it would have been obvious. Even if you didn't know anything about his past, you had your suspicions.  But what about… "Did they… did the people looking for you get to her? To your wife, I mean." 

"No. She was… older." 

You bump his elbow with yours. "Nice, you dog!" 

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "I don't mean it like that. Physically she looked about the same age as you, maybe even younger. But… she had been alive for a long time, and one day I imagine this time just expired. She just never woke up again. Thamasa's cemetery is filled with others like her." He sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "And there's also the fact that I've robbed… so much money. An absurd amount. It's not just criminals, but the authorities too." He takes your hand to his lips once again, kissing your knuckles. Then he reaches for his clothes by the bed again, bringing up his cowl. "I'm retiring this. Do you understand now?"

Do you? Because it sounds an awful lot like he's saying he can't stay with you because now that he'll be showing his face in public again, he doesn't want his past catching up with him and putting you at risk. "Clyde, Clyde…" You smile in bewilderment. "Did you know I kidnapped Celes? That's how I met everyone."

Now it's his turn to look bemused. "You… what?"

"Although to be fair, I thought she was someone else. An actress I had my eye on. Which would have been an even bigger crime, given she's a celebrity and not an Empire defecting insurgent. Oh, and I've jumped from many a window, leaving angry scorned spouses in my wake. And you can't possibly think I've made my fortune by any legal means. Not the brunt of it." Although, with the exception of a few bags left in the shack you keep in Kohlingen, most of it currently lies at the bottom of the ocean after Blackjack's crash. Then again, this only motivates you to make more. "Do you think you're the only one running from people who want to kill you and the law?" You shrug, take the cowl from his hand and drop it back on the floor, then climb on his lap, resting your arms on his shoulders. "I'm just cheekier than you. But lucky for me, I don't know of any laws that reach the heavens. Oh, by the way, have you met Locke? Our very own 'treasure hunter'? I'm sure you know what that really stands for, just as I'm sure he has his fair share of pursuers."

He smiles, gripping your waist and tracing your abs with his thumbs. "How could I not know when I've been one myself? So what? Are you offering strength in numbers? You watch my back and I watch yours?"

You flex those abs he seems so captivated by. "Hey, you might be a powerhouse, but I don't know if you noticed, I'm kind of a badass myself."

He hums as if doubting your words, and you give him your most withering stare. "I don't know, I'm not sure if I have much basis to believe you. Let's see. That gigantic falling mass of land. We didn't even know each other, and you waited for me right under it until the last minute. I could only jump on your ship because of your steady helm. Despite the world ending around us." He searches your eyes to make sure you're paying attention to what he's saying. "You also defeated me at the Coliseum, the only person to do so." 

"Which… you shouldn't even be there since you were still recovering from that beast attack on the Veldt. Imagine my surprise when I went to see you the next day and they told me you were off to go fight in some tournament. Figured I should go beat some sense into you and bring you back to the inn." 

"The beast, I had forgotten about that one. I was barely conscious, but I did see you striking it down. Twice. So there's also that." 

Now that you know what he's doing, you smile and wave your hand, feigning modesty. "The others helped."

"But there were no others when you rescued my ungrateful ass from those ruins. Only you."

"Clyde…" 

"All that to say that yes, Setzer." His hands move from your waist to your face. "I noticed." You're sure he can feel your skin heating up. With his arms around you, he turns and puts his feet on the ground. "Does your bathtub fit two people?"

Once again you have your legs around him as he stands up, and you guide him towards your bathroom. "Just about."

"Then we'll talk about it after we've washed all this gunk off."

***

Your new hobby is watching your friends' faces every time you come across one of them, and they discover the vastly attractive man flying with you. Terra even blushed. Although you obviously couldn't fool Gau's beastly sense of smell. 

You haven't been to Relm's yet.

He asked about Darill on the way there, the place he wanted to go, and you told him all about her, your adventures and misadventures, and every wild story about you two you could think of. Then he told you about him. Baram was his name, and although they were mostly partners 'in crime' than any other way, you can tell he meant to Clyde just as much as she meant to you.

You don't really know what this place is, but it seems to be close to where Thamasa used to be. He has no problem finding the right spot, despite the lack of anything that could possibly indicate any difference from the rest of the woods. You give him some privacy, sitting on a nearby log while he tries to make peace with his past.

He stands there for a long time. Minutes pass. Possibly an hour?

"Farewell, my dear. I am going to move on just like you asked me to. I found someone. He's handsome, smart, phenomenal in bed. Have I mentioned devastatingly handsome?"

Clyde looks back at you, with that annoyed, yet amused expression you've grown so fond of. "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving voice to your thoughts. Carry on."

He glances one last time at the empty cliff face. "No, I think I'm done. Let's go."

Just as you start to leave, you hear a faint voice coming from behind you.

"Looks like I can finally board that train."

You turn around but don't see anyone. Clyde looks dismayed at first, then he smiles, closing at long last serene eyes. "Have a safe trip."

Sometime later, you have your own personal tailor fit him with a brand-new wardrobe, because you're tired of him ripping your beautiful silk shirts apart with his stupid muscles. And the day you find him trying each and every combination of items with a frustrated expression, you know where you're going next.

"How do I look?"

You lean on the doorway, crossing your arms. "You know she's going to call you a fuddy-duddy regardless of how sharply you've dressed." Walking to the bed, you dig through the pile of clothes, looking for the ones you think look best on him. "In any case, have Interceptor soften her up first. And maybe tell him to grab any paintbrushes she might be holding." He's so nervous that he just nods. When he finishes getting into the outfit you've chosen, you finally answer him. "You look stunning. Papa."

Clyde abruptly turns to look at you, his eyes more dangerous than you've seen in a while. "You did not just call me that." 

"What's the matter? You're a… a papa I enjoy having in bed. Or a piehib!"

He turns back to the mirror to adjust his collar. "We're done, go away." 

His sheepish dismissal fills you with manic glee. "Alright, good luck!"

Before you can leave, he pulls you by the ruff of your coat. "What do you mean, 'good luck'? Don't think for a moment you're not coming with me."

Death by portrait. You never thought this would be the way you'd go.

***

If you're being completely honest, you've known for a long time. It's not that you're so absolutely full of yourself. It's just one of the ways you're so similar. Neither you nor him ever saw any reason to hide what you're feeling. Shadow didn't feel anything. Or at least that's what he told himself. But Clyde does, and he isn't shy about it. Even if not necessarily with words, ever since that first night he's always made sure to show you how he feels. His touches. The way he talks to you, how his eyes never veer from you whenever you speak. So you've known. As you're sure he's known too. About you, that is.

So, the first time you call him 'love' as a casual term of endearment, he doesn't bat an eye. If anything, he seems courteous and considerate, touching you more than usual the entire day, bumping into you, kissing your neck because he knows it's your weak spot. You weren't afraid of telling him, you weren't afraid of rejection, or that he was going to leave or anything like that. It just somehow always felt it would be more precious if you didn't actually say it. And for some time, you thought you were right. But of course, you remembered.

Whenever you think you're right, you're wrong. And that's a big mistake.

You never thought he'd be the type to just blurt it out during sex, though. Buried deep inside you, the flesh of your neck between his teeth. The words muffled and a little more than a whisper, but you still understand them perfectly. And it almost brings you to tears when you realize for how long you've yearned to hear it. Your heart feels warm, your stomach flutters. But you can't help playing dumb. Because he said it first, and you're petty. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

He stops biting and narrows his eyes at you. "You didn't catch what? I didn't throw anything."

Yes, the love of your life is just as petty as you. "Oh, never mind, then."

Just as well, now you get to be the one to say it first, properly, looking him in the eye. But after this round is over. For now, you don't mind showing him with your body, like you've been doing all along.