Disclaimer: Everything mentioned herein is the intellectual property of Asaph Fipke, Nerd Corps Entertainment, Cartoon Network, YTV etc. Not trying to make a profit here, obviously.
Summary: Because no matter how badass the Dark Ace tries to be, he'll always have a soft spot for his Master Cyclonis.
Notes: Cyclonis fanfic that can't decide whether it's serious or notStarted off as a crackfic premise and it spawned this. I'm really sorry. Crit welcome.
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Good Morning Starshine
She wakes up alone in her room, like she has every single day of every single year. It's cold and dark, and she stares blindly at the dark ceiling before sitting up slowly. This is her time, and just for an these handful of instants she doesn't have to have to deal with the utter incompet –
"There you are, Master Cyclonis."
– ence of her soldiers. She presses her lips together. The Dark Ace, of course. She knows that voice, and besides, no one else would dare. She pulls her nightgown tighter around her.
"What is it?" What she really means is: what's gone wrong this time? She tangles her fingers in the bed sheets. She resists grinding her teeth, but only just. She'll save that for when no one is looking.
"You haven't been eating properly," he says promptly, like the soldier he is. She does look up at him then. Blinks, despite herself.
"Is that an apron?"
He nods, matter-of-fact. "Of course. I wouldn't dirty my uniform with food stains."
"And what's that you're holding in your hand?"
He glances down, almost as if he's forgotten that he was holding a plate. He sets the plate down on the table by the door. "I made you an omelet," he says with his habitual frown.
She looks at him and he meets her eyes for a second before averting them to the floor in proper deference. She thinks she might be getting a migraine. "Could you give me a moment?" She asks, more testily than she really means.
His arm is half-up in an automatic salute, but he stops mid-movement. "Do you swear you'll eat it?" She can't help her incredulous look, and then he adds, a little strangled, "master."
"Yes I – " I am not a child that needs to be pampered and doted upon, and her fists clench in the bed sheets again, but she swallows that pride. "I promise. Now leave."
"I will be back to make sure you kept your word," but this time he does finish the salute. This time he turns smartly on his heel and goes.
She waits until the echoes of the echoes of his footsteps have died in the hall before sliding her feet out from under the covers. She easily ignores the shocking cold of the floor as she walks across the room. The Dark Ace has finally learned to cook. Maybe she smiles at that thought; maybe she doesn't.