Niki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niki_chidon) wrote2011-05-25 02:16 am
niki_chidon) wrote2011-05-25 02:16 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Flying (Banlieue 13, gen)
Title: Flying
Writer: Niki
Fandom: Banlieue 13
Medium: Fic
Rating: G
Genre: gen
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schmoop_bingo prompt: friendship
Summary: They are flying over the rooftops of Paris.
Out of nowhere, Damien feels an uncontrollable urge to laugh. He has no breath to waste on laughing, though. His world has narrowed down to the feel of the ground – roof – ceiling – street – under his sneakers, the view of Leïto's back – his t-shirt riding up every now and then to show the ink on his lower back, the sound of their running feet – and now the inner laughter.
He can't remember the last time it was like this – flying over the rooftops of Paris for the sheer joy of it. For the longest time his skills have been reserved for the job – there's a surface, use it; there's a route, take it. They give him an edge.
At first it was probably the fact that when he was undercover he couldn't relax for a moment, couldn't reveal his skills because then he wouldn't have the advantage of surprise when the time came to use them. Then... then he just forgot.
And then he met Leïto. They walked away from battle and bitterness with a friendship that needs no words, no timetables, no invitations.
They meet, hurl careless insults at each other, and then they fly. Sometimes side by side, sometimes the other leading, sometimes – okay, most times – it's almost a competition. A game of tag through the city.
The don't need to exchange a word. If they don't have a goal they just run for the joy of it. If they do, it's like they can move in unison, always knowing where the other one will be, and where they need to end up.
Damien loves it. He makes time for it now, whenever he's not undercover. Sometimes they go the entire evening without saying a word – Damien catches up on Leïto on his run and merely shares the rooftops, balconies and fire escapes with him for an hour, two, then breaks away and goes home to sleep.
He always sleeps well afterwards, and he knows it's not just because of the exercise.
Tonight is one of the wordless ones, but that doesn't mean they don't communicate. A look here, a shrug there, maybe a careless wave of a hand – it's enough to determine the route.
Sometimes they don't even need those gestures, they are so in tune with each others bodies that they can read the change of direction in the shift of muscles, can somehow sense the mood the other is in from the way he moves, and adjust their own pace accordingly.
And sometimes, not knowing how or why, without any visual cues, they just know what the other is thinking or planning, and they move and stop as if there's only one consciousness shared between their two bodies.
They stop on the edge of a rooftop by mutual decision, simultaneously made and shared with that seeming telepathy, and stay there, looking at the sunset. Damien can finally let the bubbling laughter out. He knows there hasn't been enough of that in his life, either.
Leïto turns to look at him and grins, then he is laughing as well. They stand there, laughing, until the sun disappears behind the tallest buildings.
Eyes still locked with Damien's, mouth open in a wide grin, Leïto jumps, and then they're off again.
Writer: Niki
Fandom: Banlieue 13
Medium: Fic
Rating: G
Genre: gen
schmoop_bingo prompt: friendshipSummary: They are flying over the rooftops of Paris.
Out of nowhere, Damien feels an uncontrollable urge to laugh. He has no breath to waste on laughing, though. His world has narrowed down to the feel of the ground – roof – ceiling – street – under his sneakers, the view of Leïto's back – his t-shirt riding up every now and then to show the ink on his lower back, the sound of their running feet – and now the inner laughter.
He can't remember the last time it was like this – flying over the rooftops of Paris for the sheer joy of it. For the longest time his skills have been reserved for the job – there's a surface, use it; there's a route, take it. They give him an edge.
At first it was probably the fact that when he was undercover he couldn't relax for a moment, couldn't reveal his skills because then he wouldn't have the advantage of surprise when the time came to use them. Then... then he just forgot.
And then he met Leïto. They walked away from battle and bitterness with a friendship that needs no words, no timetables, no invitations.
They meet, hurl careless insults at each other, and then they fly. Sometimes side by side, sometimes the other leading, sometimes – okay, most times – it's almost a competition. A game of tag through the city.
The don't need to exchange a word. If they don't have a goal they just run for the joy of it. If they do, it's like they can move in unison, always knowing where the other one will be, and where they need to end up.
Damien loves it. He makes time for it now, whenever he's not undercover. Sometimes they go the entire evening without saying a word – Damien catches up on Leïto on his run and merely shares the rooftops, balconies and fire escapes with him for an hour, two, then breaks away and goes home to sleep.
He always sleeps well afterwards, and he knows it's not just because of the exercise.
Tonight is one of the wordless ones, but that doesn't mean they don't communicate. A look here, a shrug there, maybe a careless wave of a hand – it's enough to determine the route.
Sometimes they don't even need those gestures, they are so in tune with each others bodies that they can read the change of direction in the shift of muscles, can somehow sense the mood the other is in from the way he moves, and adjust their own pace accordingly.
And sometimes, not knowing how or why, without any visual cues, they just know what the other is thinking or planning, and they move and stop as if there's only one consciousness shared between their two bodies.
They stop on the edge of a rooftop by mutual decision, simultaneously made and shared with that seeming telepathy, and stay there, looking at the sunset. Damien can finally let the bubbling laughter out. He knows there hasn't been enough of that in his life, either.
Leïto turns to look at him and grins, then he is laughing as well. They stand there, laughing, until the sun disappears behind the tallest buildings.
Eyes still locked with Damien's, mouth open in a wide grin, Leïto jumps, and then they're off again.
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That's me with actual hearts in my eyes. I love the image of the boys chasing each other over the roofs of Paris!
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