Massive amounts of love and appreciation to Staci and Belle. You are my muses.
Disclaimer: dood, fanfiction. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and the characters and universes therein are the property of Disney and Square Enix. I receive no remuneration for this work; it is a parody and as such utilizes the Fair Use clause of the Copyright Act.
The first thing I'm aware of upon awakening is a weight on my chest. It's solid, kind of heavy, and it's holding me down. Fight-or-flight kicks in immediately and I can feel the quick jolt of adrenaline thrilling in my veins, but the fog of sleep clears before I can react and I realize that the warm weight is not a threat, not even remotely. At least, not in its current slumbering state. It's quiet, at ease, breathing slow and steady and deep. It's just… I sigh, trying to steady my quivering heart. It's just Cloud.
Only, not "just."
Cloud could never be "just" anything.
I tuck my chin down to gaze at the mess of soft blond spikes, hoping the sudden hike in my heart rate and the change in my breathing won't cause him to stir. He's on his side next to me, pressed up close, one arm draped heavily across my ribs and the other forearm trapped beneath the small of my back, and his cheek is resting over my heart. One of his knees is bent to press into my thigh, and he's laying like dead weight on my arm stretched out beneath him, and it's…surprisingly comfortable. I'm not used to waking up with someone. Somehow…this feels right.
I close my eyes, and thoughts slowly begin to filter into my head, memories of low murmurs and deep, hungry kisses, of touches that tried to be gentle and were perfect despite the trying… A slow, pleasant burn begins to crawl through me, heating me from the inside out, and I can feel my heart beat a little harder in remembrance. I try to calm myself again; I don't want him waking just yet, and if he's as light a sleeper as I am…
Despite my best intentions, the rhythm of Cloud's breathing begins to change, picks up in speed for a moment and becomes more shallow, and his lips part to release a little sigh.
I wonder what he's going to do when he's awake enough to remember.
Soon enough, the hand on my side, fingers tucked in on themselves against my ribs, tenses almost imperceptibly and then relaxes. He draws it over my chest, back towards his body instinctively, and I try to ignore the way my skin tingles pleasurably in its wake. He shifts slightly against my shoulder, his hair tickling my chin. He's more than a little awake now. The sleep-quiet breathing has become completely silent, and I can tell he's measuring the pattern of my own breaths, the beat of my heart beneath his cheek and his curled-up fist. He knows I'm awake, too.
Seconds tick by in silence, and neither of us move. I can't tell what he's thinking, but he hasn't moved away yet, and that's…nice. Here in the morning after, now that we're both awake to appreciate it…the fact that he didn't leave in the middle of the night, that he's still here and not shying away…it's reassuring. I don't want him to go.
I don't know how to tell him that.
Eventually, he uncurls his hand and presses it flat against my chest, using it to push himself back a little. I let him go, arch my back just enough for him to pull his arm out from beneath me, and he props himself up on that elbow. His knee is still touching my thigh, and his palm is still resting over my heart, and he doesn't move any further away. That's reassuring, too.
He finally lifts his head, and I watch his ocean-blue eyes track up my chest and throat and settle on my eyes. His gaze is still sleepy, partially obscured by messy blond bangs, but it's coherent and solemn and searching nonetheless.
He's looking for some sign of regret.
He's not going to find one.
I try to collect my thoughts, try to come up with something meaningful to say, because somehow I feel I should say something…but the words, meaningful or not, never get a chance to form on my tongue. Something in Cloud's expression calms that need, and I remain silent.
It feels like slow motion, the way his lips part just a little, and even as I realize I'm staring at their soft, tempting curves and try to correct myself by bringing my eyes back to his, I find I'm not the only one caught off guard. Without a word, he bends to touch his lips to mine, soft and slow and thoughtful, testing in a way, and somehow I can taste everything he means to say in that kiss. I can feel what he wants and doesn't want, what he fears and what he craves, and all the uncertainties and imperfections buried deep inside that make him who he is. All the things that keep him from being who he wants to be. All the broken pieces I want to help him mend.
I'm not used to waking up with someone.
I think, as he curves his hand around the side of my neck and deepens the kiss and I welcome him in because somehow he's far more important than air right now, that maybe…maybe it's something I could get used to.