notes: these are the seven pieces i submitted for manda-chan's "fakiru week" over on devianart. a prompt was given for each day of the week, and are listed as the titles. they are all oneshots and are in no way related to each other, except they are all fakir/ahiru. :D the entire week was a total blast and i had so much fun! hope you enjoy these.
i own nothing.

Blue

Leaning against the window, Fakir's eyes skimmed over the crinkled pages in his hands with a stern expression. He was never much of an editor, but for this story he had to be absolutely certain there were no mistakes. Just one slip-up could affect the entire ending, and he'll be damned if he let anything like that happen.

Turning to the second page, Fakir made sure to read each sentence at least twice, no matter how repetitive and boring it may have been. It was definitely the right bird. He definitely made sure to state that the results would specifically be permanent.

But as far as he could tell, there were no mistakes. Sure, perhaps if that were the case then it would have been blatantly noticeable the moment she stepped out of the lake's edge, but the teen still just had to reiterate himself.

It had already been several hours since he first breathed life into the story. It was a long plan in the running—and so far, it seemed that everything went smoothly. Ahiru was human again. She could walk, talk, laugh, pout, and she wasn't turning back.

As soon as he once again read over the ink-stained pages, Fakir's attention was taken by the loud clattering taking up the kitchen in the floor below. He rolled his eyes—no doubt in his mind that the noises were being caused by the redhead—and pushed himself off the window ledge to make his way downstairs.

As he neared down the hallway, only more noises reached his ears. Damn it, if she was so hungry she should have just told him. She should still be getting used to having her human form back after years of being a duck, after all. If Ahiru was a klutz beforehand…

Making a mental note to go ahead and burn the story in his hands while he was down there, Fakir blinked at the sight of the girl struggling to hold up a pot of water. He sighed, stepping towards her while placing the stack of papers over on the table. "Here, idiot, don't go around making a mess out of—"

And that was when he belatedly noticed her choice of attire. His eyes widened, and he took a step back to hide the rising blush from his face. "You—what the hell are you wearing?"

He watched as Ahiru turned to him, confusion settling in her brows. "What I'm…?" Her gaze dropped down to her front, clothing buttoned up along the middle and fingers just barely able to reach the very opening of the sleeves. The bottom of the cloth only just reached her legs, giving the absolute minimal covering of her lower body. It was one of the jackets issued to male students of the academy—quite oversized on her, and for good reason. It was his.

"Why are you still wearing that?" he interrogated. "I thought Charon gave you a dress." Or rather, in the days before writing her back, Fakir went out into town with the man and picked out a set of clothing that looked suitable for her human form, of which Charon immediately paid for. The teen gave her a glare, wondering why she didn't put that on instead.

And Ahiru shot him a pout, leaning over to put the pot of water over on the counter before turning to him, arms crossed indignantly over her torso. "The dress is too small for me, and besides, it's winter! Why'd you have to change me back when it was freezing outside, and even when I was still swimming in the lake, you big jerk?"

Fakir felt himself stiffen at her answer.

…It was definitely something he had forgotten to take into account. For the past few weeks, he had been too engrossed in creating the story to even think about something as unimportant as the current weather.

So once he had finally gathered enough confidence that he could pull off the transformation, he did so almost immediately that prior day. With him sitting on the docks, and her bobbing along the water's edge of a lake that was fit to freeze over in mere days.

Several minutes later, he was blushing like mad, wrapping his blue uniform jacket around the shivering girl as she clung to his shirt and bit his head off in confusion and shock at why she was suddenly exposed to the chilling atmosphere in bare skin.

…He made sure Charon left the dress at the foot of her bed that morning. But now there she was, still wearing that same covering and crossing her arms with a huff. What did she mean it didn't fit?

Face fuming a deep red, Fakir pointed accusingly at the girl. "Don't be stupid, just—change into something else, moron!" Seeing her only barely covered by something of his own was…he had to concentrate on not squirming uncomfortably.

She only gave him a frown, lips pursing out. "There's nothing else for me to wear! …Besides, it's warm." And as if to accentuate that statement, she wrapped her arms stubbornly around herself, creasing the folds all across the front as Fakir stood there trying to figure out if he needed to clean that blue jacket as soon as possible or never wash it again.

End