[Fic] Final Fantasy XII //
Monday, 28 March 2016 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spindizzyQ: Do you literally just want Fran and Balthier platonically tucked up in bed reading?
A: Who DOESN'T want Fran and Balthier platonically tucked up in bed?!
Q: Susan, are you having intense feelings about Balthier wearing reading glasses?
A: N-no, not at all! *shifty eyes*
Q: Why no Fran icons?
A: I don't know but it's tragic.
Final Fantasy XII //
G | 418 words | Balthier, Fran | No spoilers | After a long day of derring-do, all Balthier wants to do is go to bed with a book.
An early night tucked up in a hotel bed with a gazetteer for Nalbina does not, perhaps, fit in with the ideal of the leading man. But honestly, with his ribs still tender from... Somewhat rough handling by another set of sky pirates (successfully fleeced, naturally), the idea of a night in bed with a glass of wine and a book sounds almost indecent.
Balthier rather expects that he's the only one who feels that way – until Fran lets herself into the room barely ten minutes after he said good night and starts to extricate herself from her armour. They are often enough at such close quarters that he fancies he can tell which parts of armour have been removed from the sound they make as she puts them down.
He doesn't look up until the other side of his bed dips; when he glances over his reading glasses, he finds that Fran has borrowed his spare nightshirt and is climbing into his bed with the manual for the new engine that Nono has been eyeing. Her long legs tangle across the bed, feet bumping against his before she settles into flexing them against the footboard. Her hair is a soft cloud around them, one that he brushes out of his face with a vaguely apologetic noise. Fran makes a vaguely pleased noise in response, and leans against his side.
"With your permission?" Balthier asks, shifting his arm; Fran permits him to wrap it around her shoulders, mindful of the bruises he can see where his shirt has slipped down her arm. He settles back against his pile of pillows, book in his lap, and Fran settles closer against his side. When he starts carding his fingers through her hair absent-mindedly, Fran reaches up and does the same to him – although her affection comes with more claws delicately scratching his scalp than he would dare. It's pleasant, especially after the day they've had; and soon Balthier finds himself nodding over his gazetteer. He tries to stay awake – he'd had vague ideas of planning their next job – but soon the book starts to slide out of his hand.
"Sleep," Fran says, voice amused. Hands slide his reading glasses off his face, and there is a click as they are set aside. "You may choose us a new path on the morrow."
And Balthier – leading man extraordinaire, dashing hero, feared sky pirate – curls against Fran's hip and lets her continue to pet him like a cat as he falls asleep.
A: Who DOESN'T want Fran and Balthier platonically tucked up in bed?!
Q: Susan, are you having intense feelings about Balthier wearing reading glasses?
A: N-no, not at all! *shifty eyes*
Q: Why no Fran icons?
A: I don't know but it's tragic.
Final Fantasy XII //
G | 418 words | Balthier, Fran | No spoilers | After a long day of derring-do, all Balthier wants to do is go to bed with a book.
An early night tucked up in a hotel bed with a gazetteer for Nalbina does not, perhaps, fit in with the ideal of the leading man. But honestly, with his ribs still tender from... Somewhat rough handling by another set of sky pirates (successfully fleeced, naturally), the idea of a night in bed with a glass of wine and a book sounds almost indecent.
Balthier rather expects that he's the only one who feels that way – until Fran lets herself into the room barely ten minutes after he said good night and starts to extricate herself from her armour. They are often enough at such close quarters that he fancies he can tell which parts of armour have been removed from the sound they make as she puts them down.
He doesn't look up until the other side of his bed dips; when he glances over his reading glasses, he finds that Fran has borrowed his spare nightshirt and is climbing into his bed with the manual for the new engine that Nono has been eyeing. Her long legs tangle across the bed, feet bumping against his before she settles into flexing them against the footboard. Her hair is a soft cloud around them, one that he brushes out of his face with a vaguely apologetic noise. Fran makes a vaguely pleased noise in response, and leans against his side.
"With your permission?" Balthier asks, shifting his arm; Fran permits him to wrap it around her shoulders, mindful of the bruises he can see where his shirt has slipped down her arm. He settles back against his pile of pillows, book in his lap, and Fran settles closer against his side. When he starts carding his fingers through her hair absent-mindedly, Fran reaches up and does the same to him – although her affection comes with more claws delicately scratching his scalp than he would dare. It's pleasant, especially after the day they've had; and soon Balthier finds himself nodding over his gazetteer. He tries to stay awake – he'd had vague ideas of planning their next job – but soon the book starts to slide out of his hand.
"Sleep," Fran says, voice amused. Hands slide his reading glasses off his face, and there is a click as they are set aside. "You may choose us a new path on the morrow."
And Balthier – leading man extraordinaire, dashing hero, feared sky pirate – curls against Fran's hip and lets her continue to pet him like a cat as he falls asleep.
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Date: 2016-03-31 02:41 am (UTC)