I.
There was something Cid didn't quite get about Shera. Actually, there was a lot he didn't understand. That was probably because he didn't bother to get to know her in the beginning. Now, he had all these personal holes to fill.
Cid was aware of Shera on the surface. She was slightly taller than the average woman, compact figured, long brown hair, calico-hazel eyes, and ambiguous facial features.
Facial features...mystery number one. Sometimes Cid caught himself squinting, trying to figure out where Shera was from.
"Hey ,uh, Shera?" He hung over her shoulder at the dining table while she was cutting matting with a precision knife.
"Hm?"
"You from Corel?" Cid remembered that Barret was from there. To her, his question was probably random, but it was always something he'd been meaning to ask.
"Mm…" Shera swept stray pieces of paper from the wood top with the side of her hand. She didn't say anything for an unnaturally long time.
"No, sir, I'm not." She chirped. Shera never got around to telling him the actual answer until a few years later. By then, they were married.
II.
The mix of textures on Cid's face was mesmerizing. His jaw was stiff and steady; cheeks covered in scratchy bristle. But, for whatever reason, his lips were soft. Shera was addicted to kissing him goodnight and wishing him well in the morning.
III.
"What is this damn thing?" Cid knew where every tool in his engineering room was, and what it did. This thing, though? Nothing. It almost looked like a giant pair of tweezers. The Captain turned it a few times in his hands and pressed the handles. It was rigid, old, and the already dark metal was blackened at the very tips.
"That? I forgot I left it here." Shera almost seemed embarrassed. "Those are tweezers."
"I kinda get that. I mean, what'r they for?" Cid tossed the tool back down in the rusted can he had plucked it up from.
"It's for glassblowing. I must have kept it on accident."
"What the hell are you doin' with tools for glassblowing?"
"Why, Captain," Shera's amused smirk was accompanied by a little jingly, reminiscent laugh "glassblowing was almost my profession."
IV.
Cid's nose crinkled and he scowled. The entire upstairs hallway smelled like nail polish. When he walked inside, he could still smell it over the stale odor of tobacco in his room.
V.
Shera was nervous even though Cid didn't plan for them to take off. His gloved hands were over hers, wrapped around the steering handles of the Tiny Bronco. When he felt she'd learned enough about the plane's bread and butter navigation parts (propeller, ailerons, rudder, elevators, blah blah blah), Cid decided to guide her on how to operate them.
He nudged his chin over her shoulder, and Shera shifted in his lap so he could see. One at a time, the Captain began to point out what each switch, lever, and control was on the inside. "Alright, you get a look at this here?" Shera slowly nodded and eyed the dial he was talking about. She could feel the vibration of Cid's voice from his neck to her shoulder.
"You keep n' eye on that. That's yer fuel gauge. N' that one over there is—"
"Oil pressure?" She knew a psi reader well.
"Yep." Cid was grinning. "The other is for oil temperature. Don't want the plane runnin' hot. That ain't never good."
Being taught by Cid was a strange experience, and Shera followed along as best she could while taking mental notes. The Captain was being uncharacteristically patient. Maybe because he was sharing something he knew by heart.
Sure, she never really got the hang of flying, but they both discovered that with a lesson or two, Shera could manage a well-made spear. Cid's patience carried over. When the time came, she got to tell him all she knew about honey bees.
VI.
Pillows and blankets were scattered all over the house, and the air was thick and warm with the smell of baking cookies. It was cold outside, but Shera was sweating under her winter sweater. Between minding the food, she was supposed to be the princess. Their designated dragon was making a mess of the stuffed animal moat in the living room. Three little girls were truly a labor of love.
When she finally made it back to the castle, their dragon was vanquished (exhausted and laying on his back on the rug in front of the TV), and their knights had moved on to something else. Shera sank down, shook all of the glitter out of her hair, and laid over Cid's chest.
"Next time you're dragon." He draped his arm over the small of her back.
"And you be princess?"
"I'm pretty enough, ain't I?"
Shera snorted.
VII.
She was only passing through the men's section as a short cut. Shera didn't intend to look through all the jackets, but she was thinking of Cid (as usual). He'd outgrown his flight jacket, and taking him shopping was always…stressful. They never got around to purchasing a new jacket for him the last time they were out.
This display was very nice, and the price tag didn't shoo her off. After referencing a notepad in her bag for Cid's size, she took one down and continued on her way.
VIII.
Cid knew it was always a good thing to be wary of when his partner was upset. They were two different individuals, and the way Shera expressed anger was drastically different. When Cid was angry, it was obvious. A raised voice, flushed face, cigarette sucked down to a crumbling stub in an instant. The Captain was known for being a fire breather.
It was mildly alarming how well Shera could sugar coat some of her molten emotions. She had a muted sort of anger that usually caught up, and bit him (hard) in the ass a day or two later. Every goddamn time.
Cid was sure that that aspect of her personality alluded to something he knew better than to ask about. Mystery number two. He discovered later it was defensive instincts…which, he felt alluded to something else. Cid didn't do any more digging beyond that.
IX.
She hoped he wouldn't mind if she used his soap. When she burrowed in bed for the night, it smelled as if he were there. But, Cid was miles and miles away. Shera really wished he wasn't.
X.
"So, what made ya get this tattoo on yer' back?" Cid tugged at the tie of her bath towel. He remembered sharing a conversation with her about her interests. The sticky hexagons and stylized bee between her shoulder blades had something to do with being a little wild when she was younger. And a required biology expedition? Something like that.
Shera pulled the comb from her wet hair and swatted his hand. If he pulled the towel away, she'd be cold. "It was an impulse." She awkwardly laughed. "I was away from home. I figured, why not? Can you believe my mother still doesn't even know I have it?"
Cid didn't know she had it until he caught her out one morning in a tank top.
"Y'know you've got a weird closet obsession, right, Shera?" That would explain all the god awful yellow.
"It's not weird. I don't think. I used to have a navel piercing. That was weird."
"Wha…?" What?
"My mother did know about that." Probably why she no longer had it.
XI.
They crept in with hands under each other's shirts, rushed breathing, and suggestively twined eyes. It was late, and they were tired, but finally, some time alone.
They got under the covers and kissing put them to sleep. Oh well.
XII.
Kind of goofy. Horrible sense of fashion (he was one to talk). Poor eyesight. Young, and over attentive.
That used to be the standard description off the top of his head. Cid continued the rest of his life with Shera under a different paradigm. If you asked him what he thought of her now, he would start the list off exactly the same. However, list had gotten longer, and the direction of the descriptions had changed.
Still goofy. Still wearing that fuckin' ugly sweater (she got a bigger, uglier one when she was pregnant for fuck's sake). She had been bumped up to a stronger prescription for her eyes in the past year. Still younger than him. Still a busy body, and a nag-note author to boot.
But, Shera was pretty damn sweet. And thoughtful. And she had such a beautiful face. And a smile that made his stomach churn on the regular. And she was strong, for reasons he swore not tell anyone else, and for reasons he was deeply ashamed of. And for a long time he was honored to be trusted with her secrets.
His list got too long one day, so he summed it up by saying she was his very best friend.