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The genasi’s blue scales glint in the light of the full moon as he dances across the rooftops with practiced ease, approaching with a speed Fitzroy could never match so far above the city. Steel glints before it clashes against steel, Fitzroy only barely able to raise his sword to block in time. His cloak trails behind him in the wind as their eyes meet over their crossed blades, and the genasi’s dark hair tries to break free from the high ponytail it is trapped in.
“Hello, Fitz” the hero says with a dangerous grin spreading over his handsome face. Fitzroy’s knees go a little weak at the sound of his name in that low and raspy voice.
“Argo”, Fitzroy greets back and then knocks the genasi’s blade to the side enough for him to safely take a step back, out of immediate reach of his adversary. Argo recovers quickly, effortlessly moving back into perfect form and waiting with the tip of his blade pointing at Fitzroy. He has always been an excellent fighter, fast and elegant. Fitzroy has watched him pass his fencing classes with a mixture of jealousy, admiration and the need to one-up him, back when they still went to school together.
“So, care to share your evil villain monologue?” Argo asks and Fitzroy laughs, makes it sound as evil as possible to cover for the fact that no, he does not care to share his evil plans with Argo at the moment. He doesn’t really have an evil plan, to be completely honest; villainy has been coming kinda slow lately and this standoff is mostly to keep his bosses off his back; he can’t afford not to at least pretend to be following some devious scheme if he wants to still make rent this month.
You could of course take his selfish attempt to lure Argo out onto the rooftops in the middle of the night on a full moon as scheming, if you wanted. The fact that these are the circumstances under which Argo looks his most mysteriously beautiful has been taken into careful consideration and the time and location have been chosen solely to give Fitzroy a chance to admire the attractiveness of his enemy.
Not that Fitzroy would want to take it this way or explain this particular scheme to Argo. Not that taking it this way would make a lot of sense, since this is definitely not what had been going through Fitzroy’s head when he started committing random minor acts of villainy to attract attention, and dropping hints about where he would be tonight.
“I think I would prefer to just do away with you without revealing my evil machinations” Fitzroy lies and charges. Argo sidesteps quickly and deflects Fitzroy’s blade with his own sword before spinning around and immediately counterattacking. They trade blows in quick succession, an elegant yet taxing dance steeped with the familiarity of countless other fights, both in the service of the kingdom of Marshold and before they graduated as hero and villain respectively, when they used to spar on the training fields of Wiggenstaff’s and provide each other with helpful pointers disguised as teasing jabs about each other’s swordplay. Fitzroy would never admit it, but he really enjoys his fights with Argo for the memories they stir up and the chance to reminisce in their good old school days.
Fitzroy had never planned to become Argo’s enemy, and he thinks it came as a surprise to both of them when they came face to face for the first time on the first day of their new jobs in the kingdom of Marshold. He appreciates it though, because it means he still gets to see Argo pretty regularly, even if they don’t really talk a lot anymore. At least not outside of work and heroic speeches or villainous monologues. Having to fight each other on the regular means Fitzroy doesn’t have to give up on his little to huge crush from villain school and can continue to secretly pine after the man who used to be his best friend.
Fitzroy tries his best not to pay too close attention to the movement of Argo’s muscles as he takes swing after swing, but the sleeveless shirt makes it kind of hard to focus on anything else. Looking at Argo’s face isn’t any better, because he seems to genuinely enjoy the fights as well. His eyes are shining brightly and despite the exhaustion beginning to show on his face, his lips are parted in a wide grin underneath that stupid moustache that everyone at Wiggenstaff’s was sure he wouldn’t keep, but that he never shaved off in all the time that Fitzroy has known him. He looks absolutely gorgeous.
Argo must catch him looking at his face, because the next time their blades cross and their faces come closer for just a second, Argo simply winks at him, and it catches Fitzroy so off guard that he isn’t fast enough to react when Argo withdraws his sword only to bring it back down onto Fitzroy’s blade hard enough to knock it out of his grip.
“Dang it!” Fitzroy almost-curses as he overbalances and loses his footing on the uneven rooftop. Inevitably he goes down, unable to reach his sword before it slides down over the tiles and over the edge of the roof and falls into the street below.
Argo is above him immediately, sword pointed at Fitzroy’s face and still the same wide grin on his lips as before. They are both panting, catching their breaths and locking eyes, and damn, if Argo isn’t the most attractive being Fitzroy has ever seen in his life.
“Watch your step” Argo quips and Fitzroy can only answer with a dirty look.
“Not all of us have grown up thieving and stealing across rooftops”
“And not all of us are professional villains now”
“Villains with standards and style”
“Oh yes, very graceful, the way you just went down”
“F-fudge you!” Fitzroy tries, and when it doesn’t have the intended impact, adds “you- butt…cheek”
Argo barks out a laugh. “Good to know you still can’t cruse for shit”
“Yeah yeah, rub it under my nose, won’t you?”
Argo switches his sword into his non-dominant hand and holds out his sword hand for Fitzroy to grab. Fitzroy recognises his chance immediately, and a devious grin sneaks onto his face. As he reaches for Argo’s hand, he suddenly lurches forward and tackles Argo’s legs instead, causing Argo to lose his balance and drop his sword in surprise. With a metallic clang it follows Fitzroy’s into the street below.
Argo is only half surprised by Fitzroy’s unfair tactics though, and is quick to find his footing again. By the time Fitzroy is back to his feet Argo has regained his balance as well and is ready to face Fitzroy’s attack. That is less than ideal. Whereas they are pretty evenly matched in sword fighting, Fitzroy can’t deny that when it comes to hand-to-hand, Argo is a lot more proficient than him. If he doesn’t have the element of surprise, he is very unlikely to best Argo in an unarmed fight.
Not that that is going to stop him from trying, mind you. He does have an evil scheme to defend after all.
“Come on, Fitz, why don’t you just give up? I’d hate to hurt your pretty face in this”
Fitzroy hides his blush behind a laugh that comes out a lot more breathless than intended. It’s mostly the exhaustion from the fight, of course, and has nothing to do with Argo’s comment about his face.
“You’d better worry about your pretty face!” Fitzroy finally retorts and welp, that sounded a lot flirtier than he meant it to.
“You think my face is pretty?” Argo asks innocently, and for a moment, Fitzroy isn’t sure if Argo’s making fun of him or if he really wants to know, because it’s a stupid thing to ask seriously in this situation, but he sounds genuine and this is Argo they’re talking about. If there is anyone who genuinely worries about his opponent’s opinion of him during a fight it’s going to be Argonaut Keene, because he has always been sweet and insecure like that.
Either way, Fitzroy doesn’t get the chance to think of an answer, to decide whether he should lie or tell him that yes, his face is very pretty, even in spite - or maybe even because - of his stupid moustache. He doesn’t get the time to decide because Argo suddenly charges him and with a few simple but very effective movements grabs him and pushes him against the wall of the adjacent building, which looms over the roof they’re currently standing on.
“Gotcha” Argo grins, but Fitzroy can’t find any words to answer. He is paralysed by the closeness of Argo’s body, transfixed by the sight of Argo’s face right in front of his own. He swallows heavily and keeps staring, at fine scales shining in the moonlight, at dark hair that has come free of the ponytail and is now hanging loosely over Argo’s forehead. At his lips, blueish like the rest of his skin, and Fitzroy remembers the first time he felt the desire to try and kiss those lips, years ago in their dorm room at Wiggenstaff’s, back when he still had every intention of becoming a knight. The feeling is exactly the same now as it was then, except that maybe now he wants it even more.
Their eyes meet when Fitzroy finally tears his gaze away from Argo’s lips and for a second, they just stare at each other. Argo’s eyes are a mirror of Fitzroy’s own; he sees the same desires, the same insecurities, the same fears reflected in them as he has carried in his heart for years now. Fitzroy thinks he has never seen Argo’s eyes as clearly as he does now.
And when his mind finally catches up, Fitzroy lurches forward, breaking free from the grip he’s only now realising Argo has loosened long ago, and he presses his lips against Argo’s firmly. Argo shakes out of their shared trance as well, catching Fitzroy in his arms instead and kissing back like he needs it, like it’s oxygen and he’s been suffocating, like he’s wanted it as long and as much as Fitzroy has.
Argo kisses the same way Fitzroy does, with hands and teeth and all his soul.
“I do think your face is pretty” Fitzroy eventually breaks away to say between kisses, breathless and smiling embarrassingly wide. “Very pretty, in fact”
It’s his little laugh, more than his blush that is lost in the general flush of making out anyway, that tells Fitzroy that Argo is at least a little flustered at that. Fitzroy finds it very endearing.
“Well, I think your face is very pretty too” Argo answers, and then kisses Fitzroy again.