Fic: Ike/Soren
'Lo~
Been watching this comm for a long while now. I figured I should give something back.
Title: If you were a kiss, I know I'd be a hug
Pairing: Ike/Soren (sorta)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: boys kissing. And made up timeline. Most defintely made up. Also, possible character butchering of chibi!Soren.
When Ike was ten and Soren was Ashera knew how old, they talked about kissing. Specifically, what kissing was and why adults did it so much. Ike was sure it had something to do with babies and maybe storks. Soren disagreed - because really, storks? So, in the interest of knowledge, Soren poured through all the books he could get his hands on, while Ike went to ask his father.
There was a lot about kissing, Soren found, particularly in fictional books. A lot about how to tilt one's head, and how to lick and bite. They also said a lot about how pleasurable it was. Which Soren just couldn't understand. How could sharing germ-filled spit with another person be fun? Ike's response was that clearly adults were strange, strange people. Soren privately thought he was just bitter over being laughed at by his father. And that was supposed to be that.
Until Ike perked up, turned to Soren and said, "We should try it."
"...What?"
"We should try it! And then we'll know what it's about."
"Why?"
Ike rolled his eyes - he'd learned to do that from Enrico, the blacksmith, just two days ago. "It'll be an ex-pare-ri-ment!"
Well...That was as good a reason as any. His old master had made him do things for less. "Okay." And he waited. It was Ike's idea so Ike could do the kissing.
So as they stood under the willow tree at the edge of the village, only a little way away from Mist who was napping, Ike leaned in carefully to touch their lips, and it was most definitely weird. Soren wasn't sure he liked having someone, even Ike, so close to him. And he wasn't sure what to feel about the way Ike's chapped lips pressed against his own. Ike leaned back. "So?"
Soren considered. And shrugged. Ike sighed. "Yeah, don't see what's so good about it either. Maybe we need to be older."
"Maybe."
"Okay. We should try it again. Later."
"Okay," Soren said. Then, in a rare moment of verbosity, added, "But it has to be you. I don't want other people touching me."
"'Course!" Ike agreed. Satisfied, Soren then went back to his books which were a lot more interesting than this kissing thing. Ike never mentioned it again and Soren simply assumed his friend forgot. As he would find out later, this was a very silly thing to do.
~ * ~ * ~
It happened the night before Soren left.
Some time between his announcement and the day of departure, Gatrie decided to throw a farewell party for Soren, which Shinon had agreed to host, if only to celebrate the 'bastard mage' finally leaving. And hopefully for good, the archer added in undertone. Soren hadn't wanted to attend, hadn't even wanted the party in the first place but Ike looked so eager and when it came to Ike he was weak. It was a fact which everyone, barring Ike, knew of and exploited. He suspected even Commander Greil knew, which certainly made meetings with him less than comfortable on Soren's end. On his part, Commander Greil simply looked amused every time he saw Ike and Soren together; an expression shared by Titania, Rhys and Oscar. Shinon had a tendency to smirk, while Gatrie had no idea of the world that existed outside women, fighting, and drinking. The last, Soren suspected, was the whole reason behind Gatrie's sudden altruistic actions. A suspicion that would soon be proven correct.
The party started innocently enough; Oscar had made all the food while Rhys organised, and Boyd and Gatrie provided the muscle for manual labour. Titania and Commander Greil only had kind words for him, and although he still could not say he was fond of Oscar's cooking, it was better than usual. Even Shinon had been on his best behaviour. Then Commander Greil and Titania retired, and things changed. Gatrie, as it turned out, had been stocking some drinks for this occassion. Not just any drinks but beathas, grain liquer that could knock out men bigger than Commander Greil. Soren escaped this fate by glaring at Gatrie every time he came near with the bottles, but poor Ike stood no chance. He shouldn't have been drinking in the first place really, but Shinon was a bastard who delighted in taunting the 'whelp' into doing stupid things.
Soren had almost thrown an elwind at the archer when he came back from the kitchen to find Ike slumped over the table, face red, and smiling vapidly. Instead, he made mental note to hoard away Rhys' hangover potions and make the bastard of an archer suffer. Ike was too important for just a quick revenge. Not that Ike would have cared since he was so busy trying not to fall off his seat. He even tried saying something to Soren. It only came out as gibberish though and Soren was again struck with the need to hurt Shinon. Badly. "That's enough, Ike," he snapped, looping an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Bed for us."
And of course Ike leaned right into him, almost snuggling him. It would turn out that Ike was a touchy-drunk. "Soreh?" the swordsman murmured.
Soren ignored his mangled name and tugged impatiently at Ike's shoulder. "Ike. I need you to get up."
"Mm, tired." And he burrowed further into Soren's arms.
Rhys coughed lightly, with that vaguely amused smile that Soren, to his horror, was fast becoming accustomed to. "Would you like some help?" he offered. He and Soren were the only two old enough to drink but hadn't; even Oscar was looking slightly flushed and dazed. Soren looked from Ike to the priest. He supposed two weak magic users would be just enough to haul a teenage swordsman to bed.
"If you wouldn't mind."
Rhys proved to be stronger than he looked and, between the two of them, they managed the feat in less time than Soren had calculated. The door was open when they arrived, a fortunate thing as they had their hands full keeping Ike from falling over, which the teenager wanted to do every so often. With some difficulty, Soren and Rhys walked Ike to the bed and gently put him down. Almost immediately Ike curled onto his side, looking just like every other teenaged boy who drank more than he should have. Soren rather missed his usually responsible friend. "You can go, Rhys," he waved the priest off, his eyes still on Ike, "I'll take care of him. Those idiots back there need you more." He dreaded to think what Shinon, Gatrie and Boyd could have gotten up to while Rhys had been helping him. If they were lucky, the mess hall would still be intact.
Rhys seemed to agree. "Good night, Soren," he whispered as he left, mindful of Ike's sorry state.
Soren was not so kind. "Ike," he said a little louder than normal, "You are not sleeping in those clothes."
There was no response. So Soren did the next best thing and casually poked Ike in the shoulder. "Wake up, Ike. I know your weaknesses. It'll be your sides next." Soren was not above using his tactician skills against Ike. Especially when Ike was being a moron.
One eye cracked open. "Why?" It was the closest Ike came to sounding whiny outside of being woken up early in the morning.
"Because I'm your friend, and it would be uncomfortable for you sleep in your clothes." Soren leaned over Ike and unlaced his boots as he spoke. "Take off your overshirt and gloves at least."
Ike made a valiant attempt with his gloves but he had only gotten one off by the time Soren finished with the boots. It's like dealing with a toddler; a mentally-challenged toddler, Soren thought unkindly. "Here," he interrupted, pushing Ike's fumbling hands apart with his own.
"Hmm," Ike murmured, "Thanks." Not surprisingly, the glove came off quite easily when there was no alcohol involved. Soren dropped the gloves onto the small stool beside the bed and turned his attention to Ike's overshirt. This one was going to be a problem.
"Ike, sit up for me. Mist will kill you if you wrinkle your overshirt."
Luckily Ike had regained some sobriety by this point and proved it by pushing up into a sitting position, albeit with some pauses for his head to stop spinning. It was obvious that it was hard enough to sit up, much less take off a piece of clothing. "Stay right there," he ordered, which Ike followed admirably although there was a little weaving here and there. Soren worked quickly at the buttons of the overshirt, slipping them out with practiced ease. The ease came from years of looking after a sleepy Ike and not, as Shinon claimed, from undressing him for salacious purposes. Shinon really deserved the pain that was coming to him the next mor -
A soft 'whump' and Soren suddenly had an arm full of a very heavy Ike. The undoing of the last button coincided with Ike trying to stay upright, thus pushing a little too much with his arm and ending with him slumping over Soren. Who was shorter and weaker, and therefore not equipped to deal with a warrior's weight, even of one in training. "Ike," he hissed sharply, bending much more than his back was comfortable with. He was already twisting his hips, and now bending too.
"S'ry," Ike slurred into his shoulder but made no effort to get off.
Soren was faced with two choices; push Ike away now or get the overshirt off as soon as possible and then push him away.
...
In for a copper in for a gold, he supposed. "You are lucky I like you," he grumbled into Ike's hair.
The youth laughed in retaliation. "Yeah. Ya like me best, right?"
"Not so much now, no." The first arm was a battle to take off. Ike was not helping at all and it took more effort than Soren was happy about to finally push, pull and prod Ike's arm out. The second was considerably easier. "You can get off me now, Ike. I'm done."
Ike obeyed, sliding away from Soren to sprawl on his bed. "Hey, Soren?" he said softly, eyes slightly clearer, and pronouncing his name with care.
Soren picked up the shirt to fold it properly. "Yes?"
"D'ya have to go?"
"To Melior? Yes."
"Why?"
"To learn to become the best, so that one day I will be worthy enough to serve you."
Ike rolled onto his side, watching Soren clean up with slitted eyes. "Don't. Care. I dun wan' you to go."
Soren's hand paused midway through smoothing out the wrinkles. "I care. What if one day, you get hurt because I made a mistake that could easily have been avoided if only I had been better trained? I will not have that on my conscience."
"Shinon says you don't have one of those," Ike murmured. Soren doubted he knew what he was saying, yet it still hurt to hear that coming from someone who should know better. Burying the slight ache in his chest, Soren busied himself with setting aside the shirt and pulling the blankets over Ike's prone form.
"Shinon can go rot in hell," Soren said, as crude as he had ever been. "Go to sleep, Ike."
A hand latched onto his wrist. "No. 'M sorry. Shouldn't have - "
"...Ike," Soren sighed exasperatedly. "It's okay. You didn't hurt my feelings or anything ridiculous like that." He ignored the part of him whispering 'liar', "You're drunk and you're being an idiot as a result. Sleep it off and when you wake up I'll give you a potion."
His friend - his stubborn friend - shook his head. "Dun - Don't want you to go," he repeated, "What if somethin' happens. What if you get hurt?"
"In the capital of Crimea?" Soren couldn't help smiling in amusement. He cut that action short when Ike's accusing eyes met his own. "I apologise. I can't promise anything but I will try my best to return to you in perfect health. Will that be enough?"
Ike's hand lingered on his wrist as the other youth considered it. "Fiiine." Soren sighed in relief. Ike was quite blatantly not happy about it but Soren had his blessings to leave, and that was all that mattered. If he hadn't agreed...if he had refused, then Soren would have stayed. He would have passed on the chance Commander Greil had offered and regretted it when something went wrong. Oh, something would go wrong, he knew it. He was a good tactician, better than most people his age, but he was not the best. He could be better. And he would rather burn in the depths of hell than live with the knowledge that his skills, or lack thereof, had been the weapon for Ike's downfall.
"Thank you, Ike." Soren carefully pulled his wrist out of Ike's grasp, regretting the warmth that went away with it. He was always so cold, and even that slight touch was enough to warm his entire body. He steadfastly refuse to even think about any other possible reasons for his reaction. "Can you go to sleep now?" He tucked the blankets around Ike, trapping the warm air.
"Mmm, no. One last thing," Ike said in his clearest voice since he began drinking.
"Hmm?"
Soren was prepared for another question, another extraction of a promise. He was expecting words, not his friend straining up to capture his lips with his own. It was so quick, so fleeting but there was enough pressure and time for Soren to register that yes, he was being kissed, and that yes, it was Ike. And my, Ike had surprisingly soft lips for someone who spent all of his time outdoors. Then Ike was gone and Soren was left staring blankly down at the boy on the bed. A very pleased looking boy. "....What was that?" He was surprised he could talk, much less sound coherent.
It was a lie to say that he hadn't thought about this before. Because he was a teenager and this was Ike. The most important person in his world. His universe. Ike, who had just kissed him with no warning. And who was blushing even as he grinned tiredly. "In case."
"...What?" He knew he was repeating himself. He knew he sounded stupid.
Ike's grin softened. "I promised you. 'Member?"
And oh goddess above, Soren did. He actually did. But all of this happened so long ago. Ike should have forgot, just like he forgot about their first meeting. Evidently not.
"Ike...we were children," he spoke past his rapidly beating heart and dry throat.
The drunken, smiling, beautiful boy shrugged. "Still a promise."
"But why now?"
"You're goin' ta Melior. Didn' want ta break my promise an' let someone get there before me." Ike said this as if it should have been obvious to Soren, which it wasn't because who expected their sixteen year old friend to act on a promise made six years ago and just kiss him?
"I..." Soren looked into Ike's face and could find nothing to say, except, "You can be such an idiot." He hoped Ike heard the fondness in his voice and not just the words.
Ike grinned. Yes, he had. "Gonna miss you, Soren," he whispered, his eyes finally falling shut.
Soren waited until he was sure Ike was asleep before he tentatively touched his fingers to his lips. He could still feel the warm pressure.
Ike was right; it was better as adults. Maybe, just maybe, Ike would want to do this again when he came back.
Been watching this comm for a long while now. I figured I should give something back.
Title: If you were a kiss, I know I'd be a hug
Pairing: Ike/Soren (sorta)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: boys kissing. And made up timeline. Most defintely made up. Also, possible character butchering of chibi!Soren.
When Ike was ten and Soren was Ashera knew how old, they talked about kissing. Specifically, what kissing was and why adults did it so much. Ike was sure it had something to do with babies and maybe storks. Soren disagreed - because really, storks? So, in the interest of knowledge, Soren poured through all the books he could get his hands on, while Ike went to ask his father.
There was a lot about kissing, Soren found, particularly in fictional books. A lot about how to tilt one's head, and how to lick and bite. They also said a lot about how pleasurable it was. Which Soren just couldn't understand. How could sharing germ-filled spit with another person be fun? Ike's response was that clearly adults were strange, strange people. Soren privately thought he was just bitter over being laughed at by his father. And that was supposed to be that.
Until Ike perked up, turned to Soren and said, "We should try it."
"...What?"
"We should try it! And then we'll know what it's about."
"Why?"
Ike rolled his eyes - he'd learned to do that from Enrico, the blacksmith, just two days ago. "It'll be an ex-pare-ri-ment!"
Well...That was as good a reason as any. His old master had made him do things for less. "Okay." And he waited. It was Ike's idea so Ike could do the kissing.
So as they stood under the willow tree at the edge of the village, only a little way away from Mist who was napping, Ike leaned in carefully to touch their lips, and it was most definitely weird. Soren wasn't sure he liked having someone, even Ike, so close to him. And he wasn't sure what to feel about the way Ike's chapped lips pressed against his own. Ike leaned back. "So?"
Soren considered. And shrugged. Ike sighed. "Yeah, don't see what's so good about it either. Maybe we need to be older."
"Maybe."
"Okay. We should try it again. Later."
"Okay," Soren said. Then, in a rare moment of verbosity, added, "But it has to be you. I don't want other people touching me."
"'Course!" Ike agreed. Satisfied, Soren then went back to his books which were a lot more interesting than this kissing thing. Ike never mentioned it again and Soren simply assumed his friend forgot. As he would find out later, this was a very silly thing to do.
~ * ~ * ~
It happened the night before Soren left.
Some time between his announcement and the day of departure, Gatrie decided to throw a farewell party for Soren, which Shinon had agreed to host, if only to celebrate the 'bastard mage' finally leaving. And hopefully for good, the archer added in undertone. Soren hadn't wanted to attend, hadn't even wanted the party in the first place but Ike looked so eager and when it came to Ike he was weak. It was a fact which everyone, barring Ike, knew of and exploited. He suspected even Commander Greil knew, which certainly made meetings with him less than comfortable on Soren's end. On his part, Commander Greil simply looked amused every time he saw Ike and Soren together; an expression shared by Titania, Rhys and Oscar. Shinon had a tendency to smirk, while Gatrie had no idea of the world that existed outside women, fighting, and drinking. The last, Soren suspected, was the whole reason behind Gatrie's sudden altruistic actions. A suspicion that would soon be proven correct.
The party started innocently enough; Oscar had made all the food while Rhys organised, and Boyd and Gatrie provided the muscle for manual labour. Titania and Commander Greil only had kind words for him, and although he still could not say he was fond of Oscar's cooking, it was better than usual. Even Shinon had been on his best behaviour. Then Commander Greil and Titania retired, and things changed. Gatrie, as it turned out, had been stocking some drinks for this occassion. Not just any drinks but beathas, grain liquer that could knock out men bigger than Commander Greil. Soren escaped this fate by glaring at Gatrie every time he came near with the bottles, but poor Ike stood no chance. He shouldn't have been drinking in the first place really, but Shinon was a bastard who delighted in taunting the 'whelp' into doing stupid things.
Soren had almost thrown an elwind at the archer when he came back from the kitchen to find Ike slumped over the table, face red, and smiling vapidly. Instead, he made mental note to hoard away Rhys' hangover potions and make the bastard of an archer suffer. Ike was too important for just a quick revenge. Not that Ike would have cared since he was so busy trying not to fall off his seat. He even tried saying something to Soren. It only came out as gibberish though and Soren was again struck with the need to hurt Shinon. Badly. "That's enough, Ike," he snapped, looping an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Bed for us."
And of course Ike leaned right into him, almost snuggling him. It would turn out that Ike was a touchy-drunk. "Soreh?" the swordsman murmured.
Soren ignored his mangled name and tugged impatiently at Ike's shoulder. "Ike. I need you to get up."
"Mm, tired." And he burrowed further into Soren's arms.
Rhys coughed lightly, with that vaguely amused smile that Soren, to his horror, was fast becoming accustomed to. "Would you like some help?" he offered. He and Soren were the only two old enough to drink but hadn't; even Oscar was looking slightly flushed and dazed. Soren looked from Ike to the priest. He supposed two weak magic users would be just enough to haul a teenage swordsman to bed.
"If you wouldn't mind."
Rhys proved to be stronger than he looked and, between the two of them, they managed the feat in less time than Soren had calculated. The door was open when they arrived, a fortunate thing as they had their hands full keeping Ike from falling over, which the teenager wanted to do every so often. With some difficulty, Soren and Rhys walked Ike to the bed and gently put him down. Almost immediately Ike curled onto his side, looking just like every other teenaged boy who drank more than he should have. Soren rather missed his usually responsible friend. "You can go, Rhys," he waved the priest off, his eyes still on Ike, "I'll take care of him. Those idiots back there need you more." He dreaded to think what Shinon, Gatrie and Boyd could have gotten up to while Rhys had been helping him. If they were lucky, the mess hall would still be intact.
Rhys seemed to agree. "Good night, Soren," he whispered as he left, mindful of Ike's sorry state.
Soren was not so kind. "Ike," he said a little louder than normal, "You are not sleeping in those clothes."
There was no response. So Soren did the next best thing and casually poked Ike in the shoulder. "Wake up, Ike. I know your weaknesses. It'll be your sides next." Soren was not above using his tactician skills against Ike. Especially when Ike was being a moron.
One eye cracked open. "Why?" It was the closest Ike came to sounding whiny outside of being woken up early in the morning.
"Because I'm your friend, and it would be uncomfortable for you sleep in your clothes." Soren leaned over Ike and unlaced his boots as he spoke. "Take off your overshirt and gloves at least."
Ike made a valiant attempt with his gloves but he had only gotten one off by the time Soren finished with the boots. It's like dealing with a toddler; a mentally-challenged toddler, Soren thought unkindly. "Here," he interrupted, pushing Ike's fumbling hands apart with his own.
"Hmm," Ike murmured, "Thanks." Not surprisingly, the glove came off quite easily when there was no alcohol involved. Soren dropped the gloves onto the small stool beside the bed and turned his attention to Ike's overshirt. This one was going to be a problem.
"Ike, sit up for me. Mist will kill you if you wrinkle your overshirt."
Luckily Ike had regained some sobriety by this point and proved it by pushing up into a sitting position, albeit with some pauses for his head to stop spinning. It was obvious that it was hard enough to sit up, much less take off a piece of clothing. "Stay right there," he ordered, which Ike followed admirably although there was a little weaving here and there. Soren worked quickly at the buttons of the overshirt, slipping them out with practiced ease. The ease came from years of looking after a sleepy Ike and not, as Shinon claimed, from undressing him for salacious purposes. Shinon really deserved the pain that was coming to him the next mor -
A soft 'whump' and Soren suddenly had an arm full of a very heavy Ike. The undoing of the last button coincided with Ike trying to stay upright, thus pushing a little too much with his arm and ending with him slumping over Soren. Who was shorter and weaker, and therefore not equipped to deal with a warrior's weight, even of one in training. "Ike," he hissed sharply, bending much more than his back was comfortable with. He was already twisting his hips, and now bending too.
"S'ry," Ike slurred into his shoulder but made no effort to get off.
Soren was faced with two choices; push Ike away now or get the overshirt off as soon as possible and then push him away.
...
In for a copper in for a gold, he supposed. "You are lucky I like you," he grumbled into Ike's hair.
The youth laughed in retaliation. "Yeah. Ya like me best, right?"
"Not so much now, no." The first arm was a battle to take off. Ike was not helping at all and it took more effort than Soren was happy about to finally push, pull and prod Ike's arm out. The second was considerably easier. "You can get off me now, Ike. I'm done."
Ike obeyed, sliding away from Soren to sprawl on his bed. "Hey, Soren?" he said softly, eyes slightly clearer, and pronouncing his name with care.
Soren picked up the shirt to fold it properly. "Yes?"
"D'ya have to go?"
"To Melior? Yes."
"Why?"
"To learn to become the best, so that one day I will be worthy enough to serve you."
Ike rolled onto his side, watching Soren clean up with slitted eyes. "Don't. Care. I dun wan' you to go."
Soren's hand paused midway through smoothing out the wrinkles. "I care. What if one day, you get hurt because I made a mistake that could easily have been avoided if only I had been better trained? I will not have that on my conscience."
"Shinon says you don't have one of those," Ike murmured. Soren doubted he knew what he was saying, yet it still hurt to hear that coming from someone who should know better. Burying the slight ache in his chest, Soren busied himself with setting aside the shirt and pulling the blankets over Ike's prone form.
"Shinon can go rot in hell," Soren said, as crude as he had ever been. "Go to sleep, Ike."
A hand latched onto his wrist. "No. 'M sorry. Shouldn't have - "
"...Ike," Soren sighed exasperatedly. "It's okay. You didn't hurt my feelings or anything ridiculous like that." He ignored the part of him whispering 'liar', "You're drunk and you're being an idiot as a result. Sleep it off and when you wake up I'll give you a potion."
His friend - his stubborn friend - shook his head. "Dun - Don't want you to go," he repeated, "What if somethin' happens. What if you get hurt?"
"In the capital of Crimea?" Soren couldn't help smiling in amusement. He cut that action short when Ike's accusing eyes met his own. "I apologise. I can't promise anything but I will try my best to return to you in perfect health. Will that be enough?"
Ike's hand lingered on his wrist as the other youth considered it. "Fiiine." Soren sighed in relief. Ike was quite blatantly not happy about it but Soren had his blessings to leave, and that was all that mattered. If he hadn't agreed...if he had refused, then Soren would have stayed. He would have passed on the chance Commander Greil had offered and regretted it when something went wrong. Oh, something would go wrong, he knew it. He was a good tactician, better than most people his age, but he was not the best. He could be better. And he would rather burn in the depths of hell than live with the knowledge that his skills, or lack thereof, had been the weapon for Ike's downfall.
"Thank you, Ike." Soren carefully pulled his wrist out of Ike's grasp, regretting the warmth that went away with it. He was always so cold, and even that slight touch was enough to warm his entire body. He steadfastly refuse to even think about any other possible reasons for his reaction. "Can you go to sleep now?" He tucked the blankets around Ike, trapping the warm air.
"Mmm, no. One last thing," Ike said in his clearest voice since he began drinking.
"Hmm?"
Soren was prepared for another question, another extraction of a promise. He was expecting words, not his friend straining up to capture his lips with his own. It was so quick, so fleeting but there was enough pressure and time for Soren to register that yes, he was being kissed, and that yes, it was Ike. And my, Ike had surprisingly soft lips for someone who spent all of his time outdoors. Then Ike was gone and Soren was left staring blankly down at the boy on the bed. A very pleased looking boy. "....What was that?" He was surprised he could talk, much less sound coherent.
It was a lie to say that he hadn't thought about this before. Because he was a teenager and this was Ike. The most important person in his world. His universe. Ike, who had just kissed him with no warning. And who was blushing even as he grinned tiredly. "In case."
"...What?" He knew he was repeating himself. He knew he sounded stupid.
Ike's grin softened. "I promised you. 'Member?"
And oh goddess above, Soren did. He actually did. But all of this happened so long ago. Ike should have forgot, just like he forgot about their first meeting. Evidently not.
"Ike...we were children," he spoke past his rapidly beating heart and dry throat.
The drunken, smiling, beautiful boy shrugged. "Still a promise."
"But why now?"
"You're goin' ta Melior. Didn' want ta break my promise an' let someone get there before me." Ike said this as if it should have been obvious to Soren, which it wasn't because who expected their sixteen year old friend to act on a promise made six years ago and just kiss him?
"I..." Soren looked into Ike's face and could find nothing to say, except, "You can be such an idiot." He hoped Ike heard the fondness in his voice and not just the words.
Ike grinned. Yes, he had. "Gonna miss you, Soren," he whispered, his eyes finally falling shut.
Soren waited until he was sure Ike was asleep before he tentatively touched his fingers to his lips. He could still feel the warm pressure.
Ike was right; it was better as adults. Maybe, just maybe, Ike would want to do this again when he came back.