Setting: Moonflow, pre-canon.
Theme + Number: #31, "Games".
Warnings: Not-implied-at-all m/m/m relationship. Finally!
Summary: In Jecht and Auron have fun, and Braska doesn't get any. Yet.
In retrospect, Auron should have known better than to go anywhere near the Moonflow (or, for that matter, any body of water) when he knew full well that Jecht was in That Mood again. That Mood, so referred to by Auron after a particularly trying midnight watch, was when Jecht's boredom caused him to regress to his childhood and indulge in the most immature tricks Auron had ever seen.
For example: shoving Auron into the Moonflow.
He was laughing like a mad echo-bird when Auron surface, sputtering, a moonlily dangling from one ear. Auron was not amused. Much. He admitted to himself that he probably looked very funny. Later, he might even say so out loud. Still, he was wet. At least Jecht had grabbed his sword before sending him for an unscheduled swim, or Auron would probably have dropped it.
Jecht was still laughing. Auron wondered how he would like being unexpectedly shoved into a river by someone he had mistakenly thought he could trust.
That Mood brought out the immature not only in Jecht, but in everyone around him. At least, that was how Auron justified doing what he did next.
"Very funny," he griped, slogging out of the water to stand, dripping, on the bank. His boots were full of water, so he kicked them off. He resisted the urge to shake himself dry like a dog.
"It was!" Jecht returned. "You shoulda seen your face!"
"My sword?" said Auron, holding out a hand. Jecht was far too trusting: he handed Auron the hilt without a word, resting his hand on Auron's palm.
Yes, Auron reflected as Jecht landed in the water with a splash, it really was very funny.
"Auron, you bastard!" yelled Jecht as he came back up. "Can't you take a joke?"
Auron raised one eyebrow, an expression he knew Jecht hated. He said it made Auron look like a cranky schoolteacher. "Can't you?"
Jecht squirted a jet of water at Auron with his hands. It hit him in the face, and his eyebrow lowered, which had probably been Jecht's purpose. This meant war. His coat abandoned on the bank, Auron waded in to get his revenge.
"You know, I could have sworn my guardians were fully-grown adults, not children," Braska observed.
Auron looked up awkwardly from where Jecht was attempting to duck his head under the water. "I have no idea where you could have gotten that impression."
"Come to think of it, neither do I. What exactly are you doing?"
"Having fu--whoa!" Jecht had let go of Auron to answer, and Auron had taken advantage of it by sweeping Jecht's feet out from under him.
"That's not at all good for the moonlilies, you know."
Auron looked vaguely contrite; Jecht, when he stood up, less so. "Eh. They'll live."
"I can't take you two anywhere, can I? At least it's cheaper than last time we were here." Now Jecht looked contrite.
"He started it," Auron complained, and Jecht grinned brightly again. Braska wondered if that was why he'd said it.
"It was your fault!"
"How? I did nothing. You threw me in the water."
"You--" Jecht waved his hands in the air as if to indicate that not throwing Auron in the water would have been a crime. "You deserved it!"
Braska sighed, but he smiled as he did so. Yevon, he loved them, even if they sometimes made him feel old. Or mature, at least. "If you don't come out of there, we'll miss the shoopuf."
Splashing each other once more for good measure, they obeyed. Braska laughed. "The pair of you are a--" They were both soaking wet, clothes clinging to their bodies, hair tousled, water droplets trickling on their skin…Braska swallowed hard. "--sight," he managed eventually.
Auron bent to retrieve his coat from the ground. He had to be doing that on purpose, Braska decided, entranced by the way the sodden fabric of Auron's pants tightened as he bent over. He was barefoot. Logically, this should be nothing special, except that if Auron did not die with his boots on, it wouldn't be for lack of trying, and for him to be standing there barefoot in the middle of the day…Then he shrugged back into his coat, slung his sword over one shoulder and his boots over the other, said, "We'll miss the shoopuf," and sauntered off, looking a bit too studiously innocent to be true.
"I think I'm rubbing off on him," Jecht said, tilting his head back and stretching. Drops of water ran down his throat, and the tattoo on his chest shifted when he stretched. Neither did anything for Braska's ability to form a coherent thought. He winked. "Wait 'til we get to the other side," he suggested with a grin, then ran to catch up with Auron.
"I hate this place," Braska muttered when his higher mental functions returned. "I really, really do." He might be able to wait until they reached Guadosalam before jumping them. Maybe.
At this rate, he would have to finally start believing Auron's assertion that any one of Jecht's moods could be more dangerous than another.
In my universe (of which all these stories may be considered a part), Braska & co. journeyed as follows: they started in Bevelle, went through the temples in pretty much reverse order from the way Yuna did, then turned around in Besaid and came back. So stories can take place at the same location but two different times. Also, it was the only way the geography really made sense and I could stick to named places.