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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Bridge
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Squall/Fujin
Warnings: Sap
Rating: G
Summary: What would be a barrier for others simply makes them closer. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fated_children.
The potion tastes bitter in Fujin's mouth. She turns to throw one to Squall, too, stopping for a moment to watch him push his hair out of his face, watch him gain control over his quick breathing before he tips his head back and pours the potion into his mouth, grimacing like it's some nasty medicine that he hates, but has to take. She watches him straighten up a little as, for now, the potion wards off the ache of his muscles.
He nods slightly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Still without saying a word, they both sling their packs down on the ground and sit down, stretching out their legs. After a moment, he takes his jacket off, dumping it on the ground, before moving closer. She can feel the heat of his skin through her clothes as their arms press together.
"How far?"
She hauls her backpack over to her and slips a hand into the back pocket for the map, tugging it out and spreading it out over their knees. Her finger instinctively trails the distance they've come, translating it from squares on the map into miles.
"TWENTY MILES."
He nods again, leaning back against a convenient stone and closing his eyes. He won't be still for long, she knows. In just a few minutes, he'll stand up and pace around slowly, warding off the stiffness that stopping brings to their muscles.
When he gets up, she does, too, only a little reluctantly. And when he picks up his pack, securing his jacket to it quickly, she returns the map to her bag and picks it up, too, letting him adjust the straps to sit more comfortably on her shoulders. And with another brief smile and a look of acknowledgement, they go on.
They've stopped for the night and put the tent up before Squall really speaks again, appreciative of the quiet they can build between them -- not a wall, but a bridge -- and reluctant to break it. But he does, as she crawls into the big sleeping bag with him and he puts his arm around her. "You don't hate it, do you?"
There are lots of things she'd hate. The SeeD ball, for one thing, dancing and twirling on his arm. But this? No.
"NO."
"Good," he says, relaxing a little, and she welcomes the relaxation, crawling closer to him.
She'll ache in the morning, she knows, and his hands will quickly -- roughly -- massage the stiffness in both of them away, and there'll be another potion, and a tough march. She doesn't mind. She -- she even likes it, being so close to him, with nobody else to interfere.
"Well," he whispers, after a moment, "good night."
He brushes his lips over hers softly and then closes his eyes. Carefully, she reaches up to ease her eyepatch off and lay it out of the way beside them. Then she closes her eyes, too, and lets herself fall asleep.
Pairing: Squall/Fujin
Warnings: Sap
Rating: G
Summary: What would be a barrier for others simply makes them closer. For
fated_children.The potion tastes bitter in Fujin's mouth. She turns to throw one to Squall, too, stopping for a moment to watch him push his hair out of his face, watch him gain control over his quick breathing before he tips his head back and pours the potion into his mouth, grimacing like it's some nasty medicine that he hates, but has to take. She watches him straighten up a little as, for now, the potion wards off the ache of his muscles.
He nods slightly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Still without saying a word, they both sling their packs down on the ground and sit down, stretching out their legs. After a moment, he takes his jacket off, dumping it on the ground, before moving closer. She can feel the heat of his skin through her clothes as their arms press together.
"How far?"
She hauls her backpack over to her and slips a hand into the back pocket for the map, tugging it out and spreading it out over their knees. Her finger instinctively trails the distance they've come, translating it from squares on the map into miles.
"TWENTY MILES."
He nods again, leaning back against a convenient stone and closing his eyes. He won't be still for long, she knows. In just a few minutes, he'll stand up and pace around slowly, warding off the stiffness that stopping brings to their muscles.
When he gets up, she does, too, only a little reluctantly. And when he picks up his pack, securing his jacket to it quickly, she returns the map to her bag and picks it up, too, letting him adjust the straps to sit more comfortably on her shoulders. And with another brief smile and a look of acknowledgement, they go on.
They've stopped for the night and put the tent up before Squall really speaks again, appreciative of the quiet they can build between them -- not a wall, but a bridge -- and reluctant to break it. But he does, as she crawls into the big sleeping bag with him and he puts his arm around her. "You don't hate it, do you?"
There are lots of things she'd hate. The SeeD ball, for one thing, dancing and twirling on his arm. But this? No.
"NO."
"Good," he says, relaxing a little, and she welcomes the relaxation, crawling closer to him.
She'll ache in the morning, she knows, and his hands will quickly -- roughly -- massage the stiffness in both of them away, and there'll be another potion, and a tough march. She doesn't mind. She -- she even likes it, being so close to him, with nobody else to interfere.
"Well," he whispers, after a moment, "good night."
He brushes his lips over hers softly and then closes his eyes. Carefully, she reaches up to ease her eyepatch off and lay it out of the way beside them. Then she closes her eyes, too, and lets herself fall asleep.