Sexy men monthly AU where Polnareff is dressed as a cute angel (in white lace lingerie with cute feathered wings and a halo) and Avdol's dressed as a sexy devil (in leather booty shorts, heeled black boots, fake horns and yellow contact lenses, with his locs down). They're posing together in some VERY naughty poses...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Water Boiling on the Seafloor
While travelling via submarine to Egypt, Polnareff has a little chat with Avdol about the whole "faking his death" thing.
Word count: 2,453
Pairings: Jean Pierre Polnareff/Mohammed Avdol (platonic, but could be read as romantic)
Tags: Angst, Reconciliation, Survivor's Guilt
Never in a million years did Polnareff think that hunting down the man with two right hands would lead to him travelling to Egypt in a god damn submarine. Hell, he didn't think that he'd ever ride a submarine, period. Then again, he never would have thought that his friends would lie to him about one of them dying, so maybe he just wasn't cut out to be a fortune teller.
Unlike the man sitting directly across from him.
Polnareff maintained a glare sharper than Chariot's rapier on Avdol, who was casually chatting with Kakyoin in a language he didn't understand. Japanese, probably? Who knew. He was tired, damn tired, the bags under his eyes were probably bigger than his hair, but the frustration swimming around in his skull forced him to stay awake. All of the joyous relief that Avdol's alive, he's alive and well, I didn't get him killed on my path to revenge had fizzled out, the baffled excitement about getting to ride in a submarine now buried deeper in the back of his mind than they currently were in the ocean. Avdol had been alive the whole time, and not once did he ever stop to think, "maybe I should tell Polnareff that I'm okay?" Or worse yet, that he did stop to think that, but decided against it. Sure, the group had said that it was to keep him from accidentally revealing to the enemy that Avdol was alive and recovering, but he could keep a secret just fine where it mattered! He'd played along with Jotaro's "Qtaro" plan back in that old ghost town, hadn't he?
On top of all that, what was the point of Avdol pretending to be his own father once they got to the island? The place was abandoned, that was the whole point of going there. All pretenses should have been dropped by then. So why keep up the act? And not just Avdol, why did everyone play along too? Even Jotaro "I have the emotional intelligence of a pot of boiling water" Kujo? To guilt trip him?
Real classy there, guys, Polnareff thought, snorting out his nose.
He folded his arms and shifted in his seat, still staring daggers at the seemingly oblivious Avdol (or maybe he was just messing with him again, who knew). The submarine was surprisingly comfy, at least for how comfy a submarine could be. Though stuck stationary on the floor, the chairs were cushioned and spaced out far enough that no one invaded anyone else's personal bubble. It had plenty of amenities; including a fridge, coffee maker, and even a telephone. Circular windows lined the walls, giving a breathtaking view of the ocean floor. Polnareff probably would have been ogling out of it alongside Jotaro—or at least questioning the grumpy teenager on his sudden interest with all the different types of aquatic life—but unfortunately, he was in no mood to sightsee.
"...wouldn't you agree, Polnareff?"
Polnareff's low scowl shot up into a slightly more neutral (but still clearly irritated) expression when he heard Avdol say his name. Avdol and Kakyoin were staring back at him from the other end of the table with expectant looks on their faces, Avdol's more of a warm smile and Kakyoin's more of a smug grin. If the conversation had shifted back to English at some point, Polnareff hadn't been paying enough attention to notice. He didn't even have the slightest idea what they were talking about. Nor was he in any mood to join in with them.
With a long sigh, Polnareff shrugged and rested his forehead on the base of his hand, wrist bent. "Sure," he mumbled out.
Just as soon as Polnareff's eyes began to flutter shut, he heard Kakyoin's distinct stifled chuckles through the white noise of the submarine's engine.
That was the last straw.
Polnareff's fierce glower came back in full force as shot up from his seat, slamming his hands down on the table. The resulting BOOM! echoed throughout the submarine, catching the attention of everyone else aboard. Avdol and Kakyoin both jumped in their seats, their previously affable expressions startled clean off their faces, Jotaro momentarily glanced in his direction, and Mr. Joestar, who was using the telephone, frowned at him and put his hand on the phone's speaker.
"Polnareff! Keep it down, would you? This is a serious phone call!" Mr. Joestar's lecture was somewhere between his usual gravelly yell and a hushed whisper through gritted teeth.
Usually, Polnareff tried to look Mr. Joestar head on when he addressed him, if only to respect his elders. Now, though, he couldn't find it within himself to do so. However, hearing Mr. Joestar's stern tone brought him back to reality. They were this close to reaching Egypt, the last thing they needed now was to start fighting with each other.
That being said, Polnareff knew he was going to blow a gasket if he stayed with the group for any longer.
"I have to go to the bathroom," he lied.
Polnareff turned on his heels and marched down the hall towards the other end of the submarine. The sound of his footsteps clanging against the metal floor filled the air. Was there even a bathroom back there? Even if there was, even if he had to go, there was no way in hell Polnareff was using it. Even if Avdol had bought the submarine yesterday brand new, Polnareff knew that with his luck the toilet seat would be made out of live shrimp or something like that.
Eventually, Polnareff stopped somewhere in the middle of the submarine's long, narrow hallway. He leaned against the wall, putting his weight on his shoulder rather than the side of his face to avoid messing with his hair. His muscles felt tense, like a bunch of rubber bands stretched to their limits. Somewhere behind him, he vaguely heard everyone else speak amongst themselves in a hushed tone. Probably discussing the next way they'd lie to him, he figured.
Then, he heard another set of footsteps creep down the hallway, approaching him. Not Kakyoin's, he could tell from the stride. Not Mr. Joestar's, Polnareff could still faintly hear him on the phone back in the room. Not Jotaro's, he more wouldn't have had a reason to follow him. That left only...
"You seem irritable," Avdol commented.
(To read the rest of the fic, check it out on AO3!)
