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Entry tags:
Relief [Lalli/Emil]
Title: Relief
Characters/Pairing: Lalli/Emil
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 500 words
Summary: Emil's first instinct upon realizing they are both safe is to neaten Lalli's hair. Lalli thinks this is the least of his problems.
Other: Response to Shoop's Emil/Lalli art posted at the SSSS forum (here). Their summary was:
"callin this 'ooc' for 'out of context' or 'that time Emil like nearly died and his first instinct was to pat Lalli's hair down and Lalli was like that is the least of your problems, dude, and also the least of mine'"
Relief
Fire and smoke.
A voice called his name. Where was it? Lalli strained to hear. Couldn't see. Where was it coming from, where was Emil? He yelled out, answering for once, then listened, trying to follow Emil's voice.
Strong hand grabbing his arm, whirling him around. Sigrun. Her words were sharp, whatever they were. She pulled him away, toward the entrance, toward the light, away from the smoke and the voice in the fire in the dark.
Fresh air. They tumbled into the brightness, fell against each other. Sigrun didn't let go of him; she held him, her too-tight grip making Lalli squirm. He looked up at her and saw that her lips were thin, her eyes wide and anxious.
Emil was still in there.
He turned and looked and waited, biting at his lip, ignoring the grip on his arm, the worried voices calling from the tank. Emil was taking a long time – too long. It was too long. Sounds came from inside the building. Something was collapsing.
Seconds. Too many. A minute. Minutes. Too long. It was too long. It was—
A noise. Someone at the entrance, stumbling out, coughing, smoke-black.
Sigrun let him go. They went to him together, but Lalli got there first. As Emil practically fell against him, Lalli caught him, keeping his heavy form upright until Emil could steady himself.
White-gloved hands touching his head. No, his hair. What?
Lalli stared. Took in that worried face with its smoke-reddened eyes and singed brows, letting the words he didn't understand wash over him. He knew that gesture, had come to know it well, the way Emil would flatten his hair down and tidy it up. It was strange, always, that he cared more about it than Lalli ever would.
Now was not the time, but words wouldn't do any good.
He cupped one of Emil's hands, gripped it as he turned and pressed his face into the broad palm, let his lips graze there.
You almost died, he thought, and felt sick to his stomach.
Later, when they were on the road and could breathe again, Lalli asked Tuuri what she knew. As she spoke, relaying what Emil had said when they were finally out and safe, he listened.
"He said that he was looking for you," she murmured, brows knitting with worry. "He thought you were trapped inside."
He tilted his head. Took this in. Thought. Then he rose, and slipped to the back, ducking past the others.
Emil was there, resting. His eyes cracked open, then closed. Murmured something; it didn't matter what. He sounded hoarse, and he must have known it, as he shut his lips after that.
Lalli sank down beside him on the edge of the bunk. Lifted a hand; hesitated. Put it down. Lifted it again. Gently slid his fingers through Emil's hair, smoothing it out, neatening it. Then he took his hand, slipping fingers into finger gaps, a comfortable fit.
Silent, he stayed there, and didn't let go.
Characters/Pairing: Lalli/Emil
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 500 words
Summary: Emil's first instinct upon realizing they are both safe is to neaten Lalli's hair. Lalli thinks this is the least of his problems.
Other: Response to Shoop's Emil/Lalli art posted at the SSSS forum (here). Their summary was:
"callin this 'ooc' for 'out of context' or 'that time Emil like nearly died and his first instinct was to pat Lalli's hair down and Lalli was like that is the least of your problems, dude, and also the least of mine'"
Relief
Fire and smoke.
A voice called his name. Where was it? Lalli strained to hear. Couldn't see. Where was it coming from, where was Emil? He yelled out, answering for once, then listened, trying to follow Emil's voice.
Strong hand grabbing his arm, whirling him around. Sigrun. Her words were sharp, whatever they were. She pulled him away, toward the entrance, toward the light, away from the smoke and the voice in the fire in the dark.
Fresh air. They tumbled into the brightness, fell against each other. Sigrun didn't let go of him; she held him, her too-tight grip making Lalli squirm. He looked up at her and saw that her lips were thin, her eyes wide and anxious.
Emil was still in there.
He turned and looked and waited, biting at his lip, ignoring the grip on his arm, the worried voices calling from the tank. Emil was taking a long time – too long. It was too long. Sounds came from inside the building. Something was collapsing.
Seconds. Too many. A minute. Minutes. Too long. It was too long. It was—
A noise. Someone at the entrance, stumbling out, coughing, smoke-black.
Sigrun let him go. They went to him together, but Lalli got there first. As Emil practically fell against him, Lalli caught him, keeping his heavy form upright until Emil could steady himself.
White-gloved hands touching his head. No, his hair. What?
Lalli stared. Took in that worried face with its smoke-reddened eyes and singed brows, letting the words he didn't understand wash over him. He knew that gesture, had come to know it well, the way Emil would flatten his hair down and tidy it up. It was strange, always, that he cared more about it than Lalli ever would.
Now was not the time, but words wouldn't do any good.
He cupped one of Emil's hands, gripped it as he turned and pressed his face into the broad palm, let his lips graze there.
You almost died, he thought, and felt sick to his stomach.
Later, when they were on the road and could breathe again, Lalli asked Tuuri what she knew. As she spoke, relaying what Emil had said when they were finally out and safe, he listened.
"He said that he was looking for you," she murmured, brows knitting with worry. "He thought you were trapped inside."
He tilted his head. Took this in. Thought. Then he rose, and slipped to the back, ducking past the others.
Emil was there, resting. His eyes cracked open, then closed. Murmured something; it didn't matter what. He sounded hoarse, and he must have known it, as he shut his lips after that.
Lalli sank down beside him on the edge of the bunk. Lifted a hand; hesitated. Put it down. Lifted it again. Gently slid his fingers through Emil's hair, smoothing it out, neatening it. Then he took his hand, slipping fingers into finger gaps, a comfortable fit.
Silent, he stayed there, and didn't let go.