fic: ffvii, cid/shera, pg. for la_lonelyangel
Final Fantasy Ficathon Masterlist here, in case anyone's interested. Here be my entry.
(nicotine) jitters
fandom: final fantasy vii
rating: pg
pairing: cid/shera
disclaimer: Characters and game owned by Square. Don't sue kthnx.
words: ~1,900
notes: Written for la_lonelyangel in the ff_drabble FF Ficathon that I organized this year. She requested angst-free Cid/Shera where Cid finally tells Shera he loves her. I wanted to be original and yet keep them in-character and I hope you're happy with how it turned out.
His hands did not shake.
Really, they didn't. The cup fell over completely on it's own. When she brought the washcloth to his thigh to dry the lukewarm droplets of tea, he didn't hastily stand up because he was afraid of her touch. Because Cid Highwind wasn't. Couldn't be.
Shera looked at him, frowning a bit and then wiped the spilt tea off the table silently, without asking.
Cid cursed. Then again, and for the third time simply because the second curse was supposed to come out as an apology. But Cid Highwind didn't do apologies very well. At all.
He was annoyed. He hadn't had a cup of tea for weeks without something happening to it. Usually it just lost its warmth because when he tried to drink it, it was too hot and then he got lost in his thoughts and when he snapped out of them, the tea was cold.
--
Last week the shaking had begun.
He told himself they were just the nerves, the building of the new ship wasn't easy and it was frustrating to go over his blueprints, realize a mistake and then go over them again, endlessly, until every single detail was just right. One has to be a perfectionist when it comes to these things. Machinery isn't easy, building it, operating it.
He could ask for her help, she was capable of more than he often admitted to himself, but it'd simply be too nerve wrecking to have her around all the time. Shera had never been a problem in the sense that her behavior never made him angry or irritated, but the fact was that when she was there, it was really difficult to focus on anything but her.
For such a quiet, small woman, she had a presence that amazed him from time to time.
Because, and this he definitely knew, you don't live with someone for years without ending up feeling something for them. The feeling can be hate, it can be love, it can be a strange mix of the two with some co-dependency thrown in, but there has to be something.
Though, if Cid was completely honest with himself, there had always been something there. The first time they'd worked together, she'd been the same and yet a bit different. Reserved, intelligent, but always surprising in the little things she did. The slightly teasing tone when she'd called him Captain and the small grin she sometimes wore, when he'd said something completely inappropriate.
He still saw that person in her but less often than he would've liked. Over the years, they'd had discussions about all the dramatic things and he'd confessed he wasn't angry at her anymore and that he appreciated her a lot. She had smiled and said she would stay.
And that she had. The longer she did, the more frustrated he was becoming.
A small voice in his head asked him what exactly he was waiting for. She would not make the first move because she shouldn't have to. It was him who owed her an apology for all the times he'd snapped at her for no reason, all the times he hadn't said "Please" or "Thank you".
--
Cid stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, messy, short dirty blond hair sticking out in different directions and black circles around the blue eyes. True, he hadn't got much sleep lately. Things keeping him up too late. Nerves. Shera.
Or rather, thoughts of Shera, but he wasn't thinking about thinking those thoughts because that was just insane. And if his hands were shaking, it wasn't because he was anxious. It wasn't because everything before had mounted up to this, this exhausting reality of not being able to tell her that he truly, truly---
"What is the matter with you lately?" her voice asked from the door frame of the bathroom. "You broke a cup last week, you left the table without touching your tea yesterday and look what just happened, you could've been burned by the liquid."
"The tea wasn't hot anymore," he said and began ferociously washing his hands for absolutely no reason. While he rinsed them under running water, she took a few steps closer and suddenly the bathroom shrunk, he could feel it. She closed the tab and looked at him, frowning.
"Cid." Her voice was more demanding than it had ever been and he let out an exaggerated sigh.
"I'm worried."
He felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "It's just the fuckin' cigarettes. In case you haven't noticed, I smoke around three packs a day. We smokers get that. Nicotine jitters, s'all."
He looked in the mirror again and saw her staring back at him. "Right," she said in the tone that suggested she had given up and walked away, out of the bathroom. He slumped his shoulders and closed his eyes.
Great. Just fantastic. Well friggin' handled, that situation. He needed a smoke. Or twenty.
--
He avoided her for the rest of the day, spending a lot of time outdoors, browsing weaponry at the local shop, anything just so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. Cid was afraid of his eyes letting her know too much. The fear was silly, absurd, and he admitted that, but he just couldn't. Not yet. Because it had to be just right.
Yes, timing was the key.
A little voice inside his head asked him if he hadn't been waiting for the right time for years now and how the time really wasn't going to come unless he did what he ought to do. That stupid little voice rattled him from time to time and most of the time he managed to ignore it. Even when it spoke the most utter truth. Especially then.
--
In the evening he opened the bathroom door and found her there, combing her hair, staring blankly at the mirror. She turned her head towards him as she heard him enter.
"Evening," she said, smiling a small smile.
Attitude was the key, he reminded of himself. Attitude. Appearance. Just don't let it show.
"I, ahh, didn't realize you were here. I'll just be outside until you're done." He turned to leave because by Cetra, he could not look at her. She looked prettier than usual tonight.
He heard foot steps behind him, her hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around because he just didn't have the strength to shrug her hand off.
"If there is something you need to tell me," she began, but he shook his head hastily.
"There's nothing." He looked down, staring at the few inches of floor between their feet. At least she wasn't unbearably close. He could only handle so much.
"There is," she said quietly. He looked at her face and turned his gaze back on the floor after seeing the concern in her eyes.
A small voice in his head told him this was absolutely ridiculous. There he was, 37 years old and behaving like a flustered teenager. He quickly brushed the back of his palm against his cheek. Good, no flush. At least.
Then he let out some strange, quiet grunt, almost by accident. He looked at her, feeling the words maybe just reach the back of his throat, desperate to come out, very soon now.
”Fine, don't tell me.” She walked past him, adjusting her glasses. Then, pausing at the door, she continued, ”Maybe you'll tell me in the morning.”
Right, he decided. In the morning.
--
The next morning there was no real sense of things having built up to the situation. To Cid, it really did feel like just another morning. He was able to drink his tea and even if he wasn't hungry, he could still force down a sandwich.
Overall, everything was going well.
One problem remained, though. He hadn't prepared a speech. He had no opening for the three very simple words he was going to say. There was no build-up. Just a punchline and he really, really hoped he wasn't going to the butt of the joke this morning.
Weren't there supposed to be great words, shouldn't he wax poetic about his feelings? Romance, flowers, dramatic gestures, the things all love heroes did.
That was not Cid Highwind. But perhaps that was just what she wanted, in the end. Grandure when it came to love.
And so he gave up. He had no spirit to fight for things such as these, he could not make her stay and he could not change her mind. And the more he watched her busy herself around the kitchen, finally settling down to drink her own cup of tea, the more convinced he became that she was here not because of devotion and how she felt toward him, but rather because of obligation. She still felt like she was just paying off a debt.
Because he saved her life.
Obligation. Nothing more.
She twirled a spoon in her cup and then raised it to her lips, taking a hesitant sip. He watched her sadly as she winced and placed the cup down again.
”Needs some milk,” she commented, as if talking to herself and stood up to get the milk from the refrigerator.
She walked there as she usually did, firm steps that only made apologetic sounds, if any. Her hip pushed a napkin off the table as she walked past.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice until she too had noticed it. They both reached down and instead of awkwardly bumping heads, they both just looked at each other.
Shera was knelt down with one knee against the floor and she stared up at him in silence. The moment was tiny, the fridge humming in the backround and the moment was tiny but it was there, so he had to.
”I love you,” he said hoarsely, almost casually and then reached down completely to pick up the napkin. He looked away from her face and folded the napkin neatly on the table.
Surprised at this and the uncharacteristic napkin folding, Shera's gaze followed his hands and then she stood up, looking uncertain about everything and anything.
Cid swallowed nervously, still afraid to meet her eyes, afraid of rejection because he had waited so long and maybe it had all been wrong, an awfully wrong moment he had chosen to say it and maybe--
Then a small, smooth hand grazed his jaw, turning his head toward her. He swallowed again and stood up. The hand landed on his shoulder and moved to his neck, and he was following the hand's movement more than her face and then.
Then he found he was kissing her smile, a smile that melted into something just as happy but softer. He kissed her until they were both breathless.
Pulling away, yet refusing to leave his arms, Shera adjusted her glasses with a small smile on her face.
”Well,” she said.
”Yes,” he replied and pulled her close. They stayed like that, her head against his chest for a long while and he just held her there and nothing else was needed. Rays of sun reached his eyes through the window and later they were taken away by a cloud that slided to cover the sun.
Shera let out a sigh and took his hand in hers. ”Do you want to take the day off?” she asked quietly against the fabric of his coat.
”Yes,” he answered and she lead him outside, where he kissed her again because he wanted to.
The best of moments in his life. Pure and light like the feeling inside him. She kissed him back.
(nicotine) jitters
fandom: final fantasy vii
rating: pg
pairing: cid/shera
disclaimer: Characters and game owned by Square. Don't sue kthnx.
words: ~1,900
notes: Written for la_lonelyangel in the ff_drabble FF Ficathon that I organized this year. She requested angst-free Cid/Shera where Cid finally tells Shera he loves her. I wanted to be original and yet keep them in-character and I hope you're happy with how it turned out.
His hands did not shake.
Really, they didn't. The cup fell over completely on it's own. When she brought the washcloth to his thigh to dry the lukewarm droplets of tea, he didn't hastily stand up because he was afraid of her touch. Because Cid Highwind wasn't. Couldn't be.
Shera looked at him, frowning a bit and then wiped the spilt tea off the table silently, without asking.
Cid cursed. Then again, and for the third time simply because the second curse was supposed to come out as an apology. But Cid Highwind didn't do apologies very well. At all.
He was annoyed. He hadn't had a cup of tea for weeks without something happening to it. Usually it just lost its warmth because when he tried to drink it, it was too hot and then he got lost in his thoughts and when he snapped out of them, the tea was cold.
--
Last week the shaking had begun.
He told himself they were just the nerves, the building of the new ship wasn't easy and it was frustrating to go over his blueprints, realize a mistake and then go over them again, endlessly, until every single detail was just right. One has to be a perfectionist when it comes to these things. Machinery isn't easy, building it, operating it.
He could ask for her help, she was capable of more than he often admitted to himself, but it'd simply be too nerve wrecking to have her around all the time. Shera had never been a problem in the sense that her behavior never made him angry or irritated, but the fact was that when she was there, it was really difficult to focus on anything but her.
For such a quiet, small woman, she had a presence that amazed him from time to time.
Because, and this he definitely knew, you don't live with someone for years without ending up feeling something for them. The feeling can be hate, it can be love, it can be a strange mix of the two with some co-dependency thrown in, but there has to be something.
Though, if Cid was completely honest with himself, there had always been something there. The first time they'd worked together, she'd been the same and yet a bit different. Reserved, intelligent, but always surprising in the little things she did. The slightly teasing tone when she'd called him Captain and the small grin she sometimes wore, when he'd said something completely inappropriate.
He still saw that person in her but less often than he would've liked. Over the years, they'd had discussions about all the dramatic things and he'd confessed he wasn't angry at her anymore and that he appreciated her a lot. She had smiled and said she would stay.
And that she had. The longer she did, the more frustrated he was becoming.
A small voice in his head asked him what exactly he was waiting for. She would not make the first move because she shouldn't have to. It was him who owed her an apology for all the times he'd snapped at her for no reason, all the times he hadn't said "Please" or "Thank you".
--
Cid stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, messy, short dirty blond hair sticking out in different directions and black circles around the blue eyes. True, he hadn't got much sleep lately. Things keeping him up too late. Nerves. Shera.
Or rather, thoughts of Shera, but he wasn't thinking about thinking those thoughts because that was just insane. And if his hands were shaking, it wasn't because he was anxious. It wasn't because everything before had mounted up to this, this exhausting reality of not being able to tell her that he truly, truly---
"What is the matter with you lately?" her voice asked from the door frame of the bathroom. "You broke a cup last week, you left the table without touching your tea yesterday and look what just happened, you could've been burned by the liquid."
"The tea wasn't hot anymore," he said and began ferociously washing his hands for absolutely no reason. While he rinsed them under running water, she took a few steps closer and suddenly the bathroom shrunk, he could feel it. She closed the tab and looked at him, frowning.
"Cid." Her voice was more demanding than it had ever been and he let out an exaggerated sigh.
"I'm worried."
He felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "It's just the fuckin' cigarettes. In case you haven't noticed, I smoke around three packs a day. We smokers get that. Nicotine jitters, s'all."
He looked in the mirror again and saw her staring back at him. "Right," she said in the tone that suggested she had given up and walked away, out of the bathroom. He slumped his shoulders and closed his eyes.
Great. Just fantastic. Well friggin' handled, that situation. He needed a smoke. Or twenty.
--
He avoided her for the rest of the day, spending a lot of time outdoors, browsing weaponry at the local shop, anything just so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. Cid was afraid of his eyes letting her know too much. The fear was silly, absurd, and he admitted that, but he just couldn't. Not yet. Because it had to be just right.
Yes, timing was the key.
A little voice inside his head asked him if he hadn't been waiting for the right time for years now and how the time really wasn't going to come unless he did what he ought to do. That stupid little voice rattled him from time to time and most of the time he managed to ignore it. Even when it spoke the most utter truth. Especially then.
--
In the evening he opened the bathroom door and found her there, combing her hair, staring blankly at the mirror. She turned her head towards him as she heard him enter.
"Evening," she said, smiling a small smile.
Attitude was the key, he reminded of himself. Attitude. Appearance. Just don't let it show.
"I, ahh, didn't realize you were here. I'll just be outside until you're done." He turned to leave because by Cetra, he could not look at her. She looked prettier than usual tonight.
He heard foot steps behind him, her hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around because he just didn't have the strength to shrug her hand off.
"If there is something you need to tell me," she began, but he shook his head hastily.
"There's nothing." He looked down, staring at the few inches of floor between their feet. At least she wasn't unbearably close. He could only handle so much.
"There is," she said quietly. He looked at her face and turned his gaze back on the floor after seeing the concern in her eyes.
A small voice in his head told him this was absolutely ridiculous. There he was, 37 years old and behaving like a flustered teenager. He quickly brushed the back of his palm against his cheek. Good, no flush. At least.
Then he let out some strange, quiet grunt, almost by accident. He looked at her, feeling the words maybe just reach the back of his throat, desperate to come out, very soon now.
”Fine, don't tell me.” She walked past him, adjusting her glasses. Then, pausing at the door, she continued, ”Maybe you'll tell me in the morning.”
Right, he decided. In the morning.
--
The next morning there was no real sense of things having built up to the situation. To Cid, it really did feel like just another morning. He was able to drink his tea and even if he wasn't hungry, he could still force down a sandwich.
Overall, everything was going well.
One problem remained, though. He hadn't prepared a speech. He had no opening for the three very simple words he was going to say. There was no build-up. Just a punchline and he really, really hoped he wasn't going to the butt of the joke this morning.
Weren't there supposed to be great words, shouldn't he wax poetic about his feelings? Romance, flowers, dramatic gestures, the things all love heroes did.
That was not Cid Highwind. But perhaps that was just what she wanted, in the end. Grandure when it came to love.
And so he gave up. He had no spirit to fight for things such as these, he could not make her stay and he could not change her mind. And the more he watched her busy herself around the kitchen, finally settling down to drink her own cup of tea, the more convinced he became that she was here not because of devotion and how she felt toward him, but rather because of obligation. She still felt like she was just paying off a debt.
Because he saved her life.
Obligation. Nothing more.
She twirled a spoon in her cup and then raised it to her lips, taking a hesitant sip. He watched her sadly as she winced and placed the cup down again.
”Needs some milk,” she commented, as if talking to herself and stood up to get the milk from the refrigerator.
She walked there as she usually did, firm steps that only made apologetic sounds, if any. Her hip pushed a napkin off the table as she walked past.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice until she too had noticed it. They both reached down and instead of awkwardly bumping heads, they both just looked at each other.
Shera was knelt down with one knee against the floor and she stared up at him in silence. The moment was tiny, the fridge humming in the backround and the moment was tiny but it was there, so he had to.
”I love you,” he said hoarsely, almost casually and then reached down completely to pick up the napkin. He looked away from her face and folded the napkin neatly on the table.
Surprised at this and the uncharacteristic napkin folding, Shera's gaze followed his hands and then she stood up, looking uncertain about everything and anything.
Cid swallowed nervously, still afraid to meet her eyes, afraid of rejection because he had waited so long and maybe it had all been wrong, an awfully wrong moment he had chosen to say it and maybe--
Then a small, smooth hand grazed his jaw, turning his head toward her. He swallowed again and stood up. The hand landed on his shoulder and moved to his neck, and he was following the hand's movement more than her face and then.
Then he found he was kissing her smile, a smile that melted into something just as happy but softer. He kissed her until they were both breathless.
Pulling away, yet refusing to leave his arms, Shera adjusted her glasses with a small smile on her face.
”Well,” she said.
”Yes,” he replied and pulled her close. They stayed like that, her head against his chest for a long while and he just held her there and nothing else was needed. Rays of sun reached his eyes through the window and later they were taken away by a cloud that slided to cover the sun.
Shera let out a sigh and took his hand in hers. ”Do you want to take the day off?” she asked quietly against the fabric of his coat.
”Yes,” he answered and she lead him outside, where he kissed her again because he wanted to.
The best of moments in his life. Pure and light like the feeling inside him. She kissed him back.