Work Text:
“Alright! Let’s move out!!” Two claps of the hands that somehow still manage a booming volume even through the thickness of winter combat gloves. But he’d expect nothing less from the old man. “Grab all the ammo we got left! Take as many firearms as you can carry!”
Ribelio watches Captain Gasperi continue to shout out orders as the rest of SOLID-7’s members immediately scatter to prepare for the upcoming battle as quickly as possible. Like a well-oiled machine, they move in tandem with each other without wasting a single second, and Ribelio knows what would take a normal OCT unit ten minutes to get done, they’ll do it in two.
He can feel the sharpness of his smirk soften to a smile now that no one’s looking at him. He could watch these guys forever. Like a beautiful dance or a marvel of nature. Before, he couldn’t really appreciate being able to witness their sound efficiency and unspoken comradery again after so long. But now, in this handful of heartbeats within the quiet mountain snowscape, he can take it all in at his leisure, knowing that this incredible strength of theirs is here to support him and his selfish wants 110%.
“Ribelio.”
Perhaps he had been too caught up in the moment, if he didn’t even register the crunch of footsteps in the snow until someone was nearly in front of him. The smile quickly falls as his head turns in surprise to lock eyes with Luca approaching him. After a beat his gaze flickers down to notice what’s in the other’s arms as he’s walking up. An open canteen of water in one hand, and a soft cloth in the other.
“Hold still,” Luca is saying as he dumps a splash of liquid over the material before clipping the carbineer of the canteen back onto his belt. “…What’s with the deer in headlights look?” he asks with a wry smile, and it isn’t until Luca is reaching out with both hands to cup one side of his face and press the dampened cloth to the corner of his forehead that Ribelio remembers the blood on him.
Of course, with the speech he just gave and the freezing winter air, the flow of it from the scar at his forehead had long since stopped, the thick line of it down the right side of his face already dried and beginning to crack against his chilled skin. Even the pain from his bloodshot eye had ebbed to almost nothing, not that it bothered him very much in the first place compared to what else his body has gone through.
But the water is ice cold against his skin, and despite himself he flinches when it makes contact. That startles a chuckle under Luca’s breath, no doubt seeing the humor of reacting to something as harmless as cold water when Ribelio hadn’t so much as blinked from the blood pouring down his skull. Ribelio might’ve laughed too if he wasn’t so mortified, and he can’t remember the last time he actually felt heat rise to his cheeks.
“I can do it myself—” he starts to protest, grabbing at Luca’s wrist to move away the hand cradling his face, but he only makes it as far as a few inches down when Luca abruptly tightens his grip on the side of the neck instead.
“Just hold still.” He says. Demands. The low timber edges on anger and some other emotion Ribelio can’t quite pinpoint. The smile is gone. Luca’s eyebrows furrowed so slightly the only reason Ribelio can tell is due to their close proximity. And yet his expression is largely unreadable, in that particular way Luca normally carries himself as a prim and proper military man.
But his touch is what gives him away. Though he’s not exactly tipping over into the realm of choking, for the average person this would be strong enough to leave behind a bruise, and Ribelio honestly can’t tell if Luca actively knows something like this wouldn’t even make him wince, or if he’s exhibiting an actual lack of restraint.
That’s where he feels it all. The frustration, the relief, the sadness, the joy, the helplessness. Ribelio sees it in his eyes, too. They burn with everything he won’t—can’t—express openly for one reason or another. Because of his pride? The time and place? Or just pure uncertainty? Ribelio can relate to that, he thinks, and wonders what Luca is seeing in his eyes staring right back.
That’s what keeps Ribelio still. He can’t look away from that unwavering gaze.
It seems like once Luca feels the tension in Ribelio easing, his hand holding the damp cloth starts moving again. He starts by wiping away at the starburst gash at Ribelio’s forehead until it’s perfectly pristine once more, and slowly continues downward, paying careful attention to rubbing every last bit of dried blood from his eyebrow, the creases around and below his eyelid, before finishing off with a hard scrub at his cheek. They both stand there in silence as he does so, Luca’s amber orbs tracking the progression of his task, while Ribelio watches with his open left eye the gentle focus in that line of sight.
“…You have a plan, right?”
The question comes in the middle of Luca using the dry portion of the cloth to wipe away at any lingering dampness from Ribelio’s face, breaking the quiet so abruptly, and without so much as a glance away from his work, that Ribelio needs a moment for his brain to catch up to form a response.
But once it does, he finds his mouth pulling into another teasing smirk, “What, you think I’d pick a fight with a Great Devil without a plan?”
“Other than punching really hard?” Luca shoots back almost immediately, mirroring the other’s grin. “Yeah, I do.”
The corner of Ribelio’s lips pull a little wider with a quick huff from his nose in the closest he ever gets to laughing, “Well…that’s one facet of it,” he has to admit. “But I’ve got another trick up my sleeve. Just gotta take a few to make sure I can do it.”
There’s the briefest of flickers in Luca’s gaze. Something like worry, probably. But his absent smile still lingers, and at last he withdraws his hands away from Ribelio’s face and takes a half-step back to give it a final onceover.
“…Your eye’s still red,” he muses partly to himself with a frown, and before Ribelio can brush it off by saying it’s fine, it doesn’t bother him, Luca adds, “Tilt your head back for a second.”
Blinking in some surprise, Ribelio watches him throw the cloth over his shoulder to hang there and free up a hand to grab at his canteen again. Using his teeth, he pulls his left hand free of its glove, then shoves it into a pocket before looking back up at Ribelio.
“What’s the hold up?” Luca asks with a faint glare, “Come on. Head back.” He snaps his newly bared fingers like he’s ordering an animal, and Ribelio can practically hear a vein pop as he opens his mouth to retort—
But all thought process screeches to an abrupt halt as Ribelio feels the hot touch of skin-on-skin contact. Luca doesn’t wait for further delay in reaching out with his left hand to hold the side of Ribelio’s face and force a backwards tilt himself. Ribelio doesn’t resist the motion in the slightest. His mind feels as blank as a sheet of paper, completely overcome by a sensation he hasn’t felt in so, so long.
He’d almost forgotten what it was like. And maybe it’s just his winter chilled skin making Luca’s hand give off an unbelievable amount of warmth in contrast, but it’s horrifyingly comforting all the same. Like a dream too good to be true. And yet if he could, he’d melt completely into that touch. Let go of all his fears and anxieties. Forget everything that’s happened up to this point. Pretend nothing’s changed, and that he’s only come back from one incredibly long, terribly exhausting assignment overseas.
And then it’s over all too quickly. Luca guides Ribelio’s face closer, there’s another splash of cold water directly into his right eye this time, and it burns like a motherfucker, but it’s not enough to make Ribelio recoil out of Luca’s human grasp.
No, instead Luca lets him go of his own accord, and Ribelio quickly straightens up and rubs at his stinging eyeball while muttering a few swears under his breath for good measure. If his other eye feels moist and glossy it’s only a reactionary effect from his right.
“…There.” He hears Luca say with an air of finality, another crunch of snow as the other takes a half-step back, and when Ribelio’s vision clears he can see Luca smiling faintly at him, not looking away even as he slips his glove back on. The sight makes something in Ribelio’s chest ache.
Ribelio is the first to look away, and he pretends there’s something to adjust at the shocker on his wrist.
“…Thanks…” he mutters to the metal fastener.
Before he can hear a response from Luca, however, Gasperi’s voice rings out loud and crisp once more, calling out to the both of them. Their heads turn towards the same direction as he approaches, and in the background the rest of SOLID-7 are making their way deeper into the forest and up the hill, weapons and bags of ammo in tow.
“Ready to head out?” Gasperi asks, adjusting the strap of his gun over his shoulder.
Ribelio looks down again at his wrist, and he flexes his fingers absently, feeling every muscle and nerve ending underneath his skin go from taut to slack to taut again. The grip he still has around the shocking mechanism loosens, and then he brings his attention back to Gasperi and Luca in front of him.
“Go on ahead and help out Noel’s group,” he says evenly. “I’ll catch up in a bit. There’s something I have to make sure of first.”
Gasperi nods in understanding, “Alright. We’ll set the stage for you,” he adds with a grin, and it’s contagious enough for Ribelio to smirk back.
The older man turns and starts trudging through the snow to follow after the rest of the team, while Luca lingers behind. He stares at Ribelio for a moment with an unreadable expression, before it softens to a slight smile. Though it somehow carries very little mirth.
“…Feels weird not needing to tell you to be careful out there.”
Ribelio can feel his smirk fade, and a melancholy feeling settles at the pit of his stomach.
“…Yeah.” All he can do is agree, but he meets Luca’s gaze head-on. A part of him wonders if this’ll be the last time they ever talk like this, but he swiftly pushes that fear down as deep as it’ll go. It won’t do him any good in the long run. So instead, he forces his best confident smile, “But it’ll be alright.” He holds a fist out. “I’ve got you watching my back, after all.”
That draws out a huff of a laugh from Luca. Every time he smiles Ribelio realizes how much he’s missed being in its presence.
After taking a step forward, Luca brings up his own clenched hand, and bumps it against Ribelio’s knuckles. “And I won’t be looking away.”
Ribelio’s smirk widens a fraction, and Luca’s the one to push off from their one point of contact to turn and start trailing after Gasperi’s boot prints, jogging to catch up. Ribelio watches his retreating form for as long as he’s able to, until he can’t see him anymore through the trees. Ribelio then takes a deep breath, and it comes out as a visible fog from his mouth.
Alone with nothing but the howling mountain wind as his company, he still feels a warm imprint at his right cheek.