AN: I wrote this as a challenge entry for the "Quite the Couple" community on Live Journal. The challenge was the recent 'First line song lyric' and my prompt was the first four lines of the amazing song "Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol. I got pretty good feedback on the community, so I thought I'd offer this piece up to a wider audience.

If anyone is hesitant about the genre, I only called in 'angst' because someone else suggested it was lol. I don't personally like angst but I don't have anything better to qualify this as sooo... Please enjoy :)

Grab, Hold

By: SoapAndTIW

I find a map and draw a straight line over rivers, farms, and state lines; the distance from me to where you'd be – it's only finger lengths that I see.

"Another."

The glass in my hand is light again. You'd think it'd stop surprising me, five empty glasses later, but that shit keeps sneaking up on me.

How many times have I traced the routes from Djose to Luca, Kilika, , Guadosalam – all the places she's been in the last two weeks, full of people that have gotten to touch her, talk to her? The text and ink on my ratty atlas is beginning to rub away, and my fingers haven't been clean in days.

Listen to me. Spira, I need that drink.

"Heh, you sure about that boss? You're drinkin' like a fish tonight."

My one sluggish eye lifts slowly; it probably looked cool and dramatic to the other goons at the broken, debris-covered table. The machina balancing one leg keep catching my eye – one "slip" of my foot and there goes that shit.

"Pour it." I smell the liquor on my own breath.

"You a'right boss? Oy muug mega cred." The kid, Selryam, starts chuckling, like the sight of me sloshed is the most entertaining thing he's ever seen.

"How about, when it's your business, you'll be the first to know, vilgan."

That shut 'em up. The kid awkwardly tilts the bottle, wrist teetering. The other guys have all whipped their heads in any direction that doesn't involve my face, studying the ceiling, analyzing the broken table's wood whirls.

She's ruined me.

I used to be the stud, the ladies' man, the guy whose arm they wanted to hang off. I had every girl, and then found new ones, and then revisited the best of the babes. I thought it could be that way for the rest of my life.

And then Rikku. And then Rikku and her goddamn smile, that mouth that undid me, and that body I'd slay the desert for.

Yah, she's ruined me. And all after only one night; a night that is somehow fresh in my mind weeks later, as she's off sailing with that cousin of hers, miles away.

The melting ice and alcohol puts weight back in my glass. I resist the urge to down it, but still swallow half in one gulp, the 130 proof burnin' my throat.

They're talking about machina now; they've pushed me out of the conversation, too scared of my mood swing, and my cool, dramatic glare to look toward me or address me. The haze in my vision makes everything matte, and accentuates the glare of the one measly light bulb off our glasses and the sweat on their faces.

Maybe it's just because I'm very sloshed, but it's too much to take in.

I'm not a graceful drunk, and the alcohol does nothin' for my pride, so I keep the glare on 'stun-mode', just so nobody gets the bright idea of tryin' to "help me". The only help I need ain't available at the hands of some machina grease-monkeys.

Holding every doorframe that I pass, I manage to get to the massive front entryway of my temple, leaning heavily on it so that it gives way, stubbornly, to the night outside. The air rushes in to hit me in the face, shocking me into a very brief clarity. It's cool, and sucks me out into it, leaving the door ajar.

I always thought I'd be emotionally self-sufficient; I learned a long time ago that it's way easier to handle your own crap than trying to rely on someone else. My mother was the last person I really trusted myself to; coincidentally, she's also the last woman I truly liked.

Until Cid's girl moseyed back into my life -- with her retarded ponytail and bird's nest of braids, and that functionless, confusing, sexy, mouthwatering excuse for an everyday-outfit.

Two weeks ago, the Gullwings' entourage landed outside of Djose on their charity tour of philanthropic, goodwill visits. In the wake of Vegnagun's destruction, Spira is finally quiet, and they're takin' the time to revisit all the places they've hooked up, checking up on all the messes they've fixed. I'm pretty sure their intended destination was Moonflow, considerin' they got a hypello on board, but they couldn't stay away completely: I'm too good-looking.

Yuna was the same as ever, and I've learned not to expect much from Paine. The Lady Yuna was gracious, asking how business was, offering to lend a hand around the temple, though I'm really not sure what some summoner-turned-treasure hunter can do with a piece of machina. It was like Vegnagun hadn't happened, remindin' me of their prior visits when they just wanted to go digging, to make their fortune in the beast-filled sands of Bikanel.

But Rikku wasn't the same. From the minute she walked in behind her cousin, I could tell; when I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering back to her every ten seconds, I knew somethin' had changed. She'd watched me, her eyes a little darker, heavy with thought; it seemed completely wrong on Cid's girl. I kept noticin' all afternoon, every time I turned away from Yuna's tendency to drone, and Paine's pissed-off looks. I noticed when somehow Yuna and Paine were distracted by Nhadala and Yzak, that it felt like she'd cornered me, and in the way that a really nasty beast corners somethin' tasty. I joked, and she was ready this time, managing to hold on to her blushing and ready with her own retorts – even if they were kinda lame.

It was hard to miss when it was suddenly more quiet than I was used to Djose being – on account of us somehow ending up in the empty hallway where all of our bedrooms had been set up. I wasn't nervous being alone with her. Nope, I had a stranger reaction than that. For whatever reason, I was feeling excited, with the blood pumping behind my ears, rushing through me in a way that made me wonder if I was running on electricity. Our conversation never got more interesting than what new machina projects I was working on, and whether or not I had buried the hatchet with her pops (umm, no), and if I ever thought about packing up from Djose and going Home. These were conversations we'd had before, even if only once or twice. I was excited over something that at first glance was actually pretty dull.

Until I noticed how she'd really changed, when I was being straddled on my bed, trying to touch every inch of her half-naked body without letting her kiss steal away my last coherent thoughts – my thoughts that included 'what the fuck is going on, and why is it so fan-fuckin'-tastic?'

Ruined. Absolutely fuckin' ruined. It ain't right.

I don't know when I reached the end of the bridge between Moonflow and Djose, but my first instinct when my hand brushed the stone was to kneel – as slowly and carefully as drunkenly possible – and press my face into the sandstone, letting it cool my overheated skin. …But then I teetered to one side and less than gracefully ended up layin' in the dust. This just ain't my night.

When did this happen? When did I become the poor sap, the pansy pinin' after the unattainable hot girl? Except that in my case, she was very reachable – I got a solid groping session under my belt after all.

I don't think foreplay has ever been as painful as it was with her. Every time my hands got hold of new skin, or took off more clothes, my chest tightened and my heart slammed into my ribs, like it was pullin' a jail break. It hurt. Touching her hurt. But ya know what they say: baby made it hurt so good.

We were so close. I don't know what I was really anticipatin' when I had her in my bed. Sex is great, but it's a common commodity… Frankly, I don't need to work for it. Never have. When I get a girl in bed, it's routine. It might be very enjoyable business, but it's routine all the same.

Rikku was not in my playbook.

Since we were kids, Rikku has always been the girl right in fronta' me that I overlooked. Not because she didn't have everything that a girl I wanted had, but because I valued my livelihood. First Cid, then girlfriends, then Cid… then Sin. Then Vegnagun. And then now. I've been so used to Rikku bein' an untouchable presence that she was never in the cards for me.

But then I'd dream; I've dreamed since I was 14. I had this and that girl in the waking world – in reality –, but when I slept, I had her. It wasn't a chick dream, with the roses and harps. And it wasn't just lust either, makin' me wake up very uncomfortably. But it was somehow always right. My dreams have always supplied me with what I wanted that wasn't available to me when I was awake.

It felt like my dreams, when she was in my arms, kissin' me clumsily, provin' to me without words that she'd been savin' all this for a while, not wastin' it on any old douche along the way. She waited for this, for me. I couldn't really believe it; well frankly, I don't think it registered until after she was hurryin' out the door, to avoid that cousin of hers comin' in and finding us BOTH in uncompromising positions. Nobody's ever looked at me the way she did when she threw one more glance at me, half out my door. I've never seen so much regret, except in my mirror.

We'll have time. I gotta go… meanie.

We were so close. Not to making love, or fucking, or havin' a one time fling that we'd feel awkward about for the rest of our lives.

We were so close… to just bein' close.

And here I am, waxin' romantical on the floor, in the dust, on some bridge, inebriated and wishing she would just show up, abandon her good-will visits, and face with me whatever Pandora's box we've accidentally, willingly opened.

I'd even settle for bein' picked up and put down in her warm arms, with her obnoxious feathers makin' me sneeze and her rough orange scarf scratching my chin. I could live with that.

I want that.

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Hope you enjoyed :)