A Distance of Seven Inches [2/4]
Title: A Distance of Seven Inches / He’s trying. Really. [2/4]
Author: Me, Chibi.
Genre: Humour/Romance in strides.
Characters/Pairings: Hope’s point of view, more or less. HopexLightning + the FFXIII crew.
Rating/Warnings: PG more or less. They talk about sex, but nothing actually happens.
Summary: (For this part) Hope’s growth from 5’3”-5’5”, including Hope deciding that Lightning looked best in red, his 16th birthday, and finding himself kidnapped by a gaggle of women for the night.
Notes: UNKNOWN PLACEMENT IN PLOT AU. More notes at the end of the fic, as usual! (Also, it’s my headcanon that logically, Hope is the only character who can probably bake besides Serah.)
I think I should bring this up first and formost: I’m sorry for kind of recycling-ish yeah. I only realized later that the chorus of ‘what’s repeated. . . but couldn’t bear to change it.
Comments are luffed! <3
5’3” - That Red Dress.
Serah was absolutely beaming, a beautifully trailing dress of white that followed her and Snow at the end of the ceremony out of the hall. It wasn’t lavish, but the ceremony was sentimental and went off without a hitch, save for Snow being just a little hung-over from his bachelor party and getting the crap smacked out of him by an irate Lightning in heels. So yeah, everything was perfect, save for the small bruise under the groom’s right eye.
Speaking of Lightning, she was all he could see the entire time the priest spoke. Everyone ‘aww’-d and ‘ooh’-d and cried for Snow and Serah, and he did too when appropriate, but he kept looking at the Maid of Honour and all that leg.
(Why he failed to realize that Lightning had no qualms with showing leg during her entire journey in a leather mini skirt, who knows. Maybe it was something about being hunted down by the entire world.)
Taking Lightning’s scarily deep frown before the ceremony, Hope could assume she did not choose to a. be the neither maid of honour nor b. pick the dress. Her dress was a deep rose red, a contrast to the pale of her skin and the whitened salmon curls of hair twisted at her neckline. Tastefully cut to reveal only a hint of cleavage, the straps tied behind her neck like a halter while the back looped to practically show off a backbone so strong you could bounce a quarter off it. The skirt flowed beautifully like layers of petals, starting and ending at a slit that started mid thigh and never ended, to show off the tie-up black solid heels that made her probably three inches taller.
Which puts me right back at square one - seven inches shorter than her, Hope dully noted in the back of his mind.
So when the after party came around, everyone was having a good time - Lightning herself even seemed pretty cheerful, chatting with Vanille, in a fluorescently pink cocktail dress and Fang in a sleek strapless black. Hope himself was, of course, dressed for the occasion, in a black suit, vest and pale turquoise dress-shirt - though his hair had too much volume to stay slicked back for very long. Noticing him standing off to the side, Vanille took the liberty of skipping - how could she skip in heels? - over to him and dragging him over to their table.
“Aren’t you dashing tonight?” Fang laughed, clapping a hand on his back once he was within reach, pushing the poor boy forward. “I half expected you to come in your Dad’s suit or something.”
Hope grumbled embarrassedly. “I have my own suits . . .”
“And it suits you so well!” Vanille pinched his cheek, wiggling it appreciatively. Oh, how punny. Hope grimaced. No matter how tall he got, this wasn’t going to change. “Don’t you think, Lightning?”
Lightning shifted one leg over the other where she sat. (Revealing more leg, he couldn’t help but notice.) Rimming her wine glass, she half-smiled. “It does suit him.”
Hope looked at his feet. “Thanks,” he mumbled even quieter.
“Time to throw the bouquet!”
Vanille practically oozed excitement. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Fang willingly followed, so Vanille took it upon herself to take Lightning’s wrist into her hands and pull her along.
“No, I think I’ll sit this one out -“ Lightning began to say, reluctantly pulled out her seat with an awkward expression.
“No no! As the maid of honour, you especially have to try and catch the flowers!”
Was that a blush Hope noticed? Hmm. “I thought soldiers were brave enough for anything, Light?” he smirked. The teasing bravery he seemed to have acquired only lasted for about five seconds, before Lightning grabbed his wrist with her free hand and pulled him into the gaggle of women in the centre of the room.
“Wha-b-but I can’t catch the thing, I’m a boy!”
“You’re still a kid,” Lightning smirked, flicking his forehead. In the midst of dying of embarrassment stuck in the middle of a circle of giggling women, he felt his heart sank.
He was still a kid.
Lost in his minor throe of depression, he looked up only in time to be roughly the equivalent of backhanded with a bouquet of flowers. All he heard was a “Oh my god Hope, I’m so sorr-“ before tripping over someone’s skirt and full on hitting his head off the ground.
. . . . . .
“-ou awake?”
Hope blinked his eyes open. He was lying down, and ow, his head throbbed. He looked up, seeing salmon pink hair and red dress. He sat up quickly - too quickly. Vertigo took over for the moment, and Lightning took his shoulders and guided him back to laying on her lap.
“Vanille caught the bouquet awkwardly and ended up basically punching you in the face.”
“Ah, so that’s what happened.” Hope gave a dry laugh. Knocked out by the bride’s bouquet, that was a new one. “How pathetic can I get?”
“It’s not pathetic, it was an accident. And besides,” Lightning said evenly, brushing his bangs back with the tip of her fingers, “you looked very grown up tonight.”
Hope looked away and mumbled. “You look better.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she ditched her heels off to the side.
5’4” - 16th.
Worst. Birthday. Ever.
Hope didn’t really care that he had to go to school on his birthday, or that his dad was away on a trip. He was trying his best to be patient, really! But in over a year, he’d only grown about four inches.
“At this rate, I’ll be forty by the time I’m her height.” He sighed, unlocking the door to his house. He slipped his shoes off, tossed his bag to the side and -
“What the hell man, you’re not supposed to be home yet!”
Hope looked up sharply, seeing Snow holding a ladder that held Vanille up, who had colourful loops of decoration tape in her hands. To the side, Fang was in the middle of painting ‘Happy bi-‘ on a large white Canvas, Dajh on the side helpfully finger painting. Sazh poked his head out of the kitchen - is he wearing Mom’s apron? - with a bowl and mixing spoon in hand.
“Guys. . . ?”
“Uh. . . surprise!” Vanile beamed with an awkward smile. Serah came out of the kitchen too, with a tray of cookies.
“Ahh, Bartholomew told us you got off school at four!” She pouted, setting the tray down.
“I do usually, but today was a half day . . .” Hope was still too bewildered by the colourful tape and wrappings that now covered the front hall.
“Well it doesn’t matter that much, does it?” Came Lightning’s input from the living room - by the looks of it, she was wrestling with some navy blue wrapping paper. “We can just have the party half-decorated.” She gave up, it seems, and left the present where it was. Everyone left their posts, coming to greet Hope, who was still standing at the door.
“Happy 16th birthday!”
5’5” - Sleepover
So as to how he was roped into a girl’s only sleepover (“Va-jay-jays only,” Fang wagged her finger at Snow) Hope wasn’t sure. He found out later the real reason he was invited along, mid-evening at said sleepover.
“So let me get this straight,” Hope addressed Lightning’s kitchen full of women. (They had settled on Lightning’s place for the sleepover, because she had the most space.) Fang pulling ingredients from the fridge, Vanille sitting on the counter, Lightning taking out cooking ware and Serah next to her. “Out of all four of you, none of you can cook?”
He was answered by a round of nods. He grimaced. “R-really? I thought that was a girl thing though. . .”
“Think again, little chauvinist,” Fang tutted, closing the fridge and crossing her arms. “I can cook meat - that’s all. And Vanille -“
“Vegetarian, so I never cooked anything before in my life!” The ginger-haired girl piped in with a giggle.
“Serah, even you?” Hope turned to the younger Farron. Surely the most domesticated of them all would know something-
She shrugged. “Not especially. I can cook some things, but I’ve never really baked.”
His last, pleading gaze fell on Lightning, who scowled awkwardly. “I never needed to cook. I worked.” Serah held in her laughs for only a short time, before snorting.
“Sis always burns things to a crisp, or ends up full on setting them on fire,” She gasped breathlessly with laughter, “you should’ve seen it when we tried to barbeque -“
“Serah!!”
Hope couldn’t help a laugh. How like her, he mused. “So you guys - er, girls - want to make something?”
“Yeah!” Vanille beamed. “A cake! We were gonna for your birthday last month, but the guys were absolutely no help. So we decide to make it a sleepover, for fun!”
“Of course the guys were no help,” Fang scoffed confidently. “Snow’s a gorilla and Sazh can’t cook delicate things.”
Hope gave a wry smile. That explained Sazh in the apron back at his makeshift birthday party - he had the most cooking experience of them all. The boy really was the last option. “Okay, I know one recipe my mom gave me. I’ll show you guys . . .” Serah and Vanille whooped with praise, Fang smirked and punched his arm, while Lightning messed his hair.
The entire cooking process wasn’t too disastrous. Fang messed up the measurements originally, but Vanille deciding to pour all the flour into one bowl remedied that. By the second run, they got past the measuring stage, and astoundingly, Lightning managed to set the batter on fire. They gave up on a third try, since in a panic Serah had doused all the guests, and about ¾ of the kitchen with the fire extinguisher.
The whole process, Hope would subtly move next to Lightning’s side along the counter. (The other girls clearly noticed, always making space for him.) Still too short, he dismayed, finding her eyes a row above his even now. He was getting there, getting there. Patience is key, he told himself.
Regardless, at around 10 at night without eating anything but burnt cake batter, they ordered food and that was that. Sleeping arrangements were decided by then, too. Vanille and Fang took the couch in Lightning’s bedroom - the largest bedroom in the house - while Serah and Lightning took her bed. Hope, who was deliberating on giving some excuse to go home and not spend the night with a handful of women was commanded to the floor. Needless to say, to save what little testosterone he still had, Hope feigned tired and opted to his lump of blankets on the floor. Conversation, however, gravitated to Lightning’s bed where the girls sat at. A history of comradeship and disaster never stopped them from being girls, apparently.
“So we should play a game!” He heard Vanille suggest cheerily.
“What kind of game?” Lightning and Serah asked simultaneously.
“How ‘bout truth or dare? A classic.” He could hear the grin in Fang’s accent.
“Good idea! Okay, let’s have Serah go first. Truth or dare?”
Serah laughed good-naturedly. “Okay, truth.”
Vanille hummed for a minute. “Have you done it with Snow yet?”
“Vanille!!” He could imagine Lightning’s abhorred face. Beneath the blanket, Hope silently snickered.
“Mhmm.”
“Serah?!”
Poor Light. . . That didn’t stop him from continuing to smile into his pillow.
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Fang laughed. “Honestly, I thought he’d get you knocked up way quicker.”
Serah and Vanille laughed. Hope noted the absence of any sort of laughter from Lightning, who was probably scowling.
“Well, if you’re gonna make that kind of face, how ‘bout you then?” Fang teased. “Well, Lightning? You lost your big V yet?”
Vanille and Serah stopped laughing, seemingly interested in the answer. “I’m curious too, actually,” Serah realized aloud. “The only guys I ever see you with are the army buffs.”
Lightning scoffed. As to how much of a cover-up the action was, Hope couldn’t tell. But even facing away and buried in a blanket, he was all ears and then some.
She’s probably had some kind of boyfriend before, Hope mulled over sourly. Though. . .
“No, I haven’t.”
And there went a round of gasps. “You mean. . . not even after getting drunk? Like, really drunk?” Even Fang was surprised, and it took a lot to surprise Fang.
“Intercourse is only useful to procreate. I don’t plan on procreating.”
Somewhere deep inside, Hope felt shot down already.
“Besides,” Lightning continued to huff, though more of a grumble now, “Who would I do it with anyhow? I’ve always been single.”
Vanille, as usual, was all too cheery to answer that one. Fang caught her mid-sentence and slapped a hand on her mouth, Hope could assume, from the sound of it. “Who? Well there’s Hope of cou-“
“Excuse me?”
“WHAT.”
“Hope?! You were awake?!”
“Uh-”
Notes:
5'3" - I really have to get away from wedding fics. . . [/looks at PruHun fic]
5'4" - I wanted to do something general and I don't know why. That, and Hope had to get older somehow. And besides, I needed to save some length. . .
5'5" - STRANGE AS IT SOUNDS I HAD TO TAKE A GOOD TWENTY MINUTES TO CONTEMPLATE LIGHTNING'S VIRGINITY. And yeah. . . in my headcanon, actually, she's not a virgin. And I would've put that in, really, but I JUST DON'T KNOW WHO SHE WOULD'VE DONE THE HORIZONTAL BOOGALOO WITH. [/dies on the inside]
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