Title: That Voodoo That You Do
Series: Fire Emblem 10
Summary: Wherein Ike fights dirty and Soren always has a plan.
Rating: PG-13, quite.
Author's Note: This was done for the current 52_flavours, 22 ) Charisma: a form of voodoo. The title actually appears in a number of lyrics, interestingly enough. (Everything from Salt 'n Pepper to Ella Fitzgerald)
It was their sixth month at home, and things had long settled to normalcy. After such a long, concentrated effort of war, mundane tasks such as finding cattle were both refreshing and a strange juxtaposition. Nightfall was near to the fortress of Greil's Mercenaries, their once and former home where they had come to rest.. As he read off the last of the report, Soren lighted the candlewicks before the letters disappeared into the darkness.
"So have we finished here?" Ike said.
"Hmm. The Bilson group wanted our help. They're reasonably well off and it would be useful to have them in our debt."
"You've always got a plan, Soren," Ike chuckled.
"Of course," Soren said.
Ike yawned and ran his fingers through his hair. "We can meet them in the morning. It's far too late now."
"Go to bed. I'll finish everything here and add it to the morning reports. You look tired."
"I am a little tired," Ike admitted.
Soren waved him off and returned to his work. He straightened the papers. He filed them, methodically placing them into their leather case they were made of gold, and not mere paper that could easily be rewritten. When Soren had finished with this task, he pulled out the ledger to begin taking stock. He mentally checked off the Nightly Report from his mind. However, Ike remained, still standing as if he needed Soren's leave to return to his quarters.
"Was there something else you needed?" Soren said.
"Come to bed," Ike said.
Soren shook his head. "I still have work to do."
It was entirely the wrong answer. Ike started his offensive. First he undid the catch of the red cloak that hung about his shoulders, then he undid the buckle on his belt. The belt hung there, loose at his hips as he began to undo the straps of his shoulder guard.
"There's the Bilson meeting in the morning I have to prepare for," Soren said, but his voice was shakier, "And the regular ledger entries to finish, and the restocking of the kitchen—"
"It can wait," Ike said.
The shoulder guard was removed and placed on the floor. Now, Ike made short work of his leather armor and pulled the blue tunic over his head. Ike's muscles glistened in the candlelight.
Soren attempted to focus on the papers, but his eyes kept straying up. His campaign of defense via ignoring was failing miserably. Both Ike and he knew that this was a battle he was not about to win.
Ike's hands were at his trousers and he had already begun to pull them down, but his progress was painfully slow. Soren's eyes flitted back to where Ike's hands were. A trail of blue hair showed at his abdomen, leading down lower.
Soren took a long, shaky breath. He set aside his quill.
"Lock the door," Soren said, his voice throaty and horse, "I'll help you with the rest."
Upon returning to their fortress, one of the first things Soren had done was have a cot installed in his office. This had been before he and Ike had found their feelings for each other, and the original purpose was so Soren could get more work done – but the thought of this, this was still there, deep before they even were more than a hopeless ache at the back of Soren's throat.
Soren always had a plan.