Diggy Diggy One-Shots(Yogs and Hatfilms)

Parvill (SFW)

TW: Fluff, blood mentioned

Title: Care

Hands curling periodically into fists, the action the epitome of the tension pulled tight across his shoulders, Strife looks with determination up the multitude of stone steps that make up Parv’s blood altar. Having to focus on keeping his breathing steady, Strife’s eyes glow pale green as sick worry swirls in his stomach - very much aware of the coppery tang to the scent of the musky castle around him, and the scarlet rivulets running over the main altar standing gaunt in front of one Alex Parvis.

“Alex.” The uncustomary use of his first name makes Parv turn, eyebrows raised and eyes clouded with magic. Thick, red blood traces the lines of his forearms and drips down off of his fingertips to land with soft ‘plink’ sounds on the altar steps. Looking down at the tense portrait of his friend and ally, Will Strife, Parv slowly descends the altar until he is only one step higher than the blonde CEO.

“You okay, Strife? You look tense!” Parv cocks his head to the side, a slight smile playing about his lips despite how his brow is furrowed in worry. Strife avoids his gaze, instead staring intently at the blood falling steadily from Parv’s arms like rose petals; focusing on why he had decided to confront Parv in the first place.

“You need to stop this now, Parvis.” Silence follows as Strife’s words sink in to Parv’s consciousness. The weak smile turns bitter, the frown turning from concerned to hurt, as Parv’s heart sinks and he feels his hands curl into fists of their own. Stepping slowly down another step so that he is at level-heading with Strife, Parv attempts to look straight into his so-called friend’s eyes only to have Strife continue to stare relentlessly at Parv’s blood-soaked forearms. “You’re going to end up doing more harm than good.” Strife continues, his voice borderline monotonous - not wanting to allow the terrific concern to show in his voice.

“Right. I see how it is.” This makes Strife look into Parv’s eyes, makes him feel the cruel dagger of Parv’s betrayed expression as it drives itself into his heart. Before Strife can explain himself, Parv has already started running that apparently unstoppable mouth. “What’s the matter, Will? Don’t like not being the most powerful? Realised that I’m not such a bumbling noob anymore?!” The volume of Parv’s voice begins to increase, his eyes boring into Strife’s own with furious anger that chills Strife. Instead of reacting calmly and aiming to quell some of his friend’s anger, Strife feels anger bubble and burn under his skin as he rolls his eyes and his voice adopts a condescending tone as he gives Parv a snappy retort.

“Oh, please. This isn’t about power, Parvis!” An eerie fluorescent glow begins to waver around Strife’s eyes, seeping out a little in his emotional state. “Do you ever think about what all this is doing to you?! What it’s doing to everything around you?!” Strife’s voice echoes off of the towering pillars nearby, off of the bleak stone walls that pale in comparison to the passionate, tense rage sparking between himself and Parv. The guitarist bares his teeth, a feral sound scraping in his throat as he steps even closer and presses his nose right up against Strife’s - invading his personal space with his anger and flashing fury.

“Then why do you care?!” Strife can smell the blood on Parv’s arms, can see the white-hot animosity in Parv’s dark eyes, can feel the puff of his harsh, impatient breaths against his chin and lips. Grabbing hold of the front of Parv’s t-shirt and pressing down the bile that rises when he feels the stick of warm blood splashed down it, Strife can see his own eyes reflected in the mirror of Parv’s when he hisses his reply.

“Because I care about you.” Strife doesn’t manage to see the sudden drop in the temperature of Parv’s glare as no sooner have the words been spat like venom from between his teeth, than Strife has released Parv’s t-shirt and pushed him back out of his personal bubble. Stunned by Strife’s words, Parv doesn’t stop himself from stumbling and falling back with a soft ‘oof’ onto the steps of the altar - staring wordless and cold after the stormy gait of the enraged CEO. Left with the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest, and the echo of Strife’s words pounding in his head, Parv takes a deep shuddering breath and pushes himself to his feet. Looking down at his arms the guitarist makes his way out of the base to go and wash himself off in the ocean before thinking to go after his friend.

A few moments later and Parv finds Strife upstairs, muttering darkly under his breath in a way that makes his voice like thunder, and rummaging through one of the many diamond chests of Parv’s sorting system. Sighing resignedly, Parv steps slowly forwards and snakes his arms around Strife’s chest - coming to rest his hands on the CEO’s chest and burying his face in Strife’s shoulder. The blonde businessman freezes, and Parv can feel his heart hammering in his chest under his hands. “Parvis?”

“I care about you, too,” Although Parv’s voice is muffled by the fact that his mouth is pressed against the smooth fabric of Strife’s waistcoat, the feel of tension leaving Strife’s body makes his lips curl with the satisfaction that Strife did indeed hear him. A sigh from Strife calms the both of them even further, and as Parv squeezes his arms gently to pull his friend closer, he feels his heart race when Strife leans back against him.

“Oh, Parvis.” Strife murmurs, shaking his head with amusement and blushing a little when Parv lifts his head with a scratch of stubble and brushes the tip of his nose against Strife’s temple affectionately. Once again he feels Strife freeze under his touch, followed by a quieter mutter of “Parv?” Silence follows, aside from the shift of fabric when Strife moves so that he can turn his head and make eye contact with Parv over his shoulder. A slither of tension snakes between them, pulling pale green to Strife’s cheeks and light pink to Parv’s when Strife’s verdant eyes flick from his own dark brown down to his lips and back again. Their first kiss is shaky and awkward thanks to positioning, and is little more than a brief brush of lips, but it still dazes Strife and when he pulls back to judge Parv’s reaction he finds the guitarist’s eyes still closed.

“Okay, well… that was nice…” Parv whispers when his eyes have reopened and found the unsure, iridescent orbs of Strife’s looking back at him. A huff of a laugh comes out of Strife’s nose, indignance painted across his features with the blush, as he turns in Parv’s arms and deliberately brushes his nose against Parv’s.

“I think we can probably do better than nice, Parvis,” Their second kiss is significantly better, despite the fact that Parv’s lips seem unable to stop smiling, and Strife is pretty sure his heart is trying to make its way into Parv’s chest through his own ribcage, and lasts a good deal longer than the first.