Chapter Text
Laguna's body was bloodied and bruised from top to bottom. The power of Kuja's healing had greatly lessened the severity of his greater wounds, but due to the drainage holy magics takes on the messenger, they resorted to manually patching out the smaller injuries.
“Everytime I take my eyes off of you, you're always getting yourself into trouble,” Kuja scolded, gently holding Laguna's thigh before patting a wet towel on his collarbone. “Hold still.”
“I-I know, I know... I'm sorry.” The man can't deny his lack of perception, but he usually makes sure to come back unharmed. Usually. This obviously wasn't the case. Taking on one... No, two... Three king-sized behemoths by yourself is never a good idea, especially if you weren't intending to fight them in the first place. Or if you run low on ammo. “I mean... At least we got food,” he chuckled sheepishly.
With contempt, Kuja sighed and muttered to himself in an unfamiliar language. Laguna gulped in concern and regretted saying what he said.
Silence loomed over the two for a while, occasionally broken by the splashes of water from the messenger's towel and short exclamations of pain from the man.
“You are but an angel that lusts to fly into the heavens,” the messenger finally spoke, lightly dabbing the towel on the man's chest. “What on Gaia would you do if your wings were to finally melt?”
An angel? Kuja had never called him an angel before. To them, it was a title reserved to only a few deserving characters who earned it in their own world before coming here. The messenger was one of them. Sure, Laguna was called an angel as an emphasis for his recklessness, but he just... Can't seem to get over his partner referring Laguna Loire as what Kuja is. After all, he himself was just a gun-wielding journalist in a growing world of dying gods, ravage beasts and especially everything in between. There were no Genomes or Half-Lunarians or Cetras in Laguna's world, and there were no stories told about them either.
Laguna felt water trickle down his forehead. He shook his head before realizing he was still being cleaned up. Lavender eyes stare from the sudden shake, and the man anxiously apologizes to the messenger for the abruptness before letting them continue.
With all of the fuck-ups and mess-ups he's done, Laguna's grateful Kuja has a surprising amount of patience for him. Then again, he's gotten used to the messenger's snarks and theatrics pretty quickly. Makes them even, no?