Series: Tales of Vesperia
A/N: Ficlet originally written for Fluri Month 2016, but not posted on tumblr with the others.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
Sometimes, Yuri makes him feel like a brat fresh out of the Lower Quarter, and Flynn almost hates him for it. The Commandant of the Imperial Knights should not be racing through the streets of Zaphias chasing after his best friend, but that is exactly what Flynn finds himself doing. Yuri is darting down alleyways and dodging people and carts, holding up Flynn's stolen cape like a banner as he goes. He's always just out of Flynn's reach, and always looking so damn pleased with himself when he glances back over his shoulder. Flynn's dignity was left behind the moment his temper snapped and the chase began. He's trapped now, unable to simply give up because that would mean letting Yuri win. Instead, he tears through the streets as fast as he can, hoping that no one will recognize him in the deepening shadows of twilight.
Yuri leads him through all levels of the city, tossing taunts over his shoulder and laughing at every one of Flynn's demands and threats. He's obviously not taking this seriously, although Flynn has had too long a week and the theft of his cape was the last straw. It flutters before him, fanning the flames of his anger as his boots pound over the cobblestones and he blunders through a knot of people that spill out of a tavern directly in front of him. It's hardly conduct befitting his status, but he spots Yuri just up ahead, waving the cape and sticking out his tongue, and Flynn is gaining speed before he has a chance to start caring about his reputation.
Outside the wall, the night air is crisp and clean, cold against Flynn's face, refreshing. He puts on another burst of speed as Yuri leaves the road behind to dash across a grassy field. Yuri is quieter now, though Flynn can still hear occasional bursts of breathy laughter. It's obvious where he's heading, and if it wasn't a straight shot, Flynn would have cut him off and reclaimed his cape. As it is, the ground begins to rise more steeply beneath their feet, and Flynn is left chasing Yuri up a hill, matched so evenly with him that he can't manage to catch up even though he doesn't fall behind.
Yuri takes the summit and spins on his heel. His grin is the first thing Flynn sees when he reaches the top, lit up by cold moonlight and the first awakening stars. Flynn charges straight at him. Bubbling over with laughter, Yuri backs away, holding the cape out behind him in one hand and warding Flynn off with the other. They're circling the tree now, Yuri twisting and weaving to keep just out of Flynn's reach in this game he's playing. He's quick, lithe as a dancer, but his cockiness does him in as he lifts the cape high above his head and the wind whips it within Flynn's reach. Now Yuri can't get away without letting go, and they both know he's too stubborn to do that because letting go means that he loses. Flynn reels him in, hand-over-hand, pressing forward as Yuri backs away, resisting until the last moment. They're nose-to-nose before Flynn realizes it. He's got Yuri by one shoulder. Their other hands are cocooned together, wrapped in the folds of his cape. His anger has long since dissolved away, and a sense of triumph fills him. A grin stretches across his face in the moment before Yuri suddenly surges forward to kiss him.
Caught off-guard, Flynn freezes. He's all at once aware of every place their bodies are pressed together, of the warmth of Yuri's skin, of how long they've been apart, of the feeling of coming home.
Taking advantage of his surprise, Yuri pushes him up against the tree. Part of Flynn's mind remembers climbing this hill with Yuri when they were children, back when the tree was far too small for a move like that. Most of him, however, is focused on Yuri's tongue as it slips past his lips, on the feel of Yuri's fingers twining with his own as their free hands find each other, of the pleasant weight of Yuri's body fitting just right against his own. The last of his tension drains away. He barely notices when his cape falls to the ground.
Yuri's the only one who can do this to him, rile him up enough to shake off his self-imposed bonds and just breathe. He feels like a kid again—free and invincible—feels the thrill of a teenager sneaking out for a tryst, and he laughs softly into the kiss. He loves Yuri for being able to make him feel this way.