Heartbeat

Fire Emblem Awakening (c) Nintendo.

The blanket is thin, and ineffective since it's covering the mattress instead, but it's alright because they're warm enough. They're far too warm in fact, breaths heaving and sweat trickling across the dunes of their bodies. Under a full moon, tiny crescents rise upon his shoulder blades, his spine, the small of his back, while they shift and move in rhythm, obeying a gravity of their own making.

He can hear her force her moans into the lines of his shoulder, and as much as he wants to tell her 'it's okay', he knows how she thinks it would be far too inconsiderate to everyone else.

So he raises his head, smiling at her glazed toffee-brown eyes, framed by long pink strands of hair clinging to the side of her face. (She cannot possibly know that at this moment, even the simple movement of blinking makes him so profoundly happy that she's allowed him to see it.) He moves quickly, gracefully, despite the fire coursing through an entire network of half pain, half pleasure spread across his senses. Her half-muffled cry is taken whole into his mouth, like the best kind of confection. In his tangled head (and heart), she is sweet and salty, warm and soft. Or not – a hiss escapes him when her nails accidentally scrape sharply across his back.

("…I'm sorry…" Her voice comes out strange, not quite her calm, determined tone, but shaky with restrained need and now some concern.

The pain has already faded. He nudges the tip of her nose gingerly with his own. "Not… your fault, love."

She smiles beguilingly. "Proud of yourself, are you?"

He chuckles. "You've no idea." Bending his head, he kisses those red lips over and over, as if he might steal her smile if he tries hard enough.)

By the gods, he can feel her in his blood. It would be madness to deny this sudden, but welcome, addition to his very soul.

And after a collection of wild, unthinking moments – when he had had no idea whether it was up or down, when the world had been nothing but her heat, her gasps and sighs, unintelligible whimpers and moistened limbs wrapped and writhing around his muscles and sinews – everything goes mercifully slack. He feels her fingers languidly slide through his orange locks, brushing against the back of his sticky neck. He has only enough energy left to press his lips against her chest, one kiss for each gradually slowing heartbeat.

When she laughs softly, he can feel it under his cheek. "You're getting heavy, dear."

"It's your cooking," he says, not yet ready to take the hint. Instead he kisses her again, letting the tip of his tongue stroke a little against her salt-tanged skin.

To his pleasure, she trembles although her reply doesn't give it away. "Should I put you on a no-cake diet then?"

That gets him to raise himself on his elbows. In the dimness, he can see her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You wouldn't."

"…well," She glides her hand across the nape of his neck, settling onto his cheek. Her laugh is gentle, teasing. "I can't help but think of my husband's health."

He raises an eyebrow, but smirks. "Says the woman who threatened to have Minerva chew me to pieces in her wedding vows."

She grins up at him from the thin mattress. "Now, dear, that's only in drastic moments."

"Can't get any more drastic than having no cake," he replies, although he gets up (rather reluctantly), and pulls the rather damp blanket from under them, tossing it to the ground. She willingly obliges him when he reaches out and pulls her towards him again. Her soft curves fit in his arms, and her legs slip into place between his.

They lie quiet for a long while, listening to each other breathe, feeling each other move in unhurried degrees. She wipes the sweat away from the temple of his head with one hand, not the least bit perturbed. He keeps brushing his mouth against her forehead, up and down, eyes closed. When she murmurs about how hot the night is, he wordlessly reaches over to push her long, slick cape of hair off her back so she might be cooler. It doesn't occur to him that he defeats the purpose by wrapping the same arm back around her (not that she complains).

He's more preoccupied with the notion that he seems to be made for her; the thought fills his heart to the swelling point.

"…love."

"Hmm?" When he just gives her a purposeful kiss, bottom lip against a thin eyebrow, she laughs quietly. "One day, Gaius, you'll have to learn the full phrase."

He smirks, though the ensuing yawn from her makes it grow into a smile. "Time for bed, I see."

"…if you… I could still…" She's interrupted by his chuckle.

"I'm not that much of a dog."

She smiles up at him. "I didn't mind." The smile gets a bit bigger as her hand slides dangerously across his chest and abdomen, sweeping up to rest directly on his hipbone. "I thought you knew."

He gazes at her for a minute, as if his brain isn't sure of what to do. Then without warning, so abruptly it makes her squeak a bit, he rolls her onto her back and smirks.

"Careful. I didn't say I wasn't a complete hound."

She stares back boldly, cheeks flaming crimson against the rest of her pale skin, hair tousled and her smile every bit as enticing as he could want. He can feel her shiver beneath him nonetheless. "I'm counting on your heart of gold."

For that, he kisses her harder than he normally would, licking and sucking on her upper lip like a sugared cherry. The sounds she makes, mixes of mewled syllables, has him move onto her bottom lip so he can hear more. He can feel her heart pound against her chest and takes pleasure in how it mirrors his own.

Finally though, he draws back to let them both breathe, and when she catches enough air, she laughs.

"What happened to bedtime?"

"You started it." He leans back down, resting his forehead against hers, taking in the sight of those beautiful eyes he prays he will never forget, no matter how much time passes. It sobers him, how much this woman has changed his life, and just how much he would do to keep her safe.

"…you know I'd do anything for you. Right?"

She smiles. "Even give up sweets?"

"…even that."

That sincere answer makes her pause, the smile settling into seriousness. "…I would never ask you to give up something so precious. Not unless it was a matter of life and death."

He raises his head a little, just to lean into the palm she's settled against the side of his face. "I know." Yet she doesn't smile back; her brows furrow suddenly. "…what is it?"

"…the thought of you dying." Her eyes are pained, and it hurts him to see that sorrow. "I've seen many things… but I don't think I could bear that."

He inhales deeply. "…I won't make promises I can't keep, Cherche. Not to you. But I'll say this much," He kisses her again, as gently as he can manage. "After you said yes, I promised I'd do my best to live. So I could protect you as long as possible." The sight of her looking worried is more than he can take, so he plasters a smirk on his lips, brushing his knuckles back and forth along her jawline, trying to soothe her in some way. "I'm a thief, love. We make it a point not to get caught. Or killed."

As usual, she sees through his efforts to lighten her thoughts. But all she does is wrap her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He closes his eyes, feels the nape of her neck with his nose and mouth, and returns her embrace tightly.

He means what he said to her: he wants to live, so fiercely it can still take him by surprise, so he can build a life with her, see her become as strong a mother as she is a warrior and woman, so they can raise their eventual son together. But he'll never tell her just how willingly he would die if such a sacrifice meant she would live. The strangest thing is they both know she also feels the same way about him.

Thus, all they can do is just hold each other, trusting in the kinds of people that they are – the kinds who would fight tooth and nail to come back and listen to each other's heartbeats at the end of the day.

A little time passes before he pulls away again. She's calmer now, more like her usual self. As much as he'd like to take up where they'd left off, he can see that her eyes aren't just glazed over by his attentions – that is unmistakeably sleepiness written across her face.

"It'll be dawn in a few hours. We should get some rest."

She nods without hesitation this time, and they shuffle back into each other's arms, sleep beginning to steal over them. Gaius has just enough presence of mind left to grope on the ground for his cape, throwing it over them in place of their abandoned blanket.

And just as she is beginning to drop into sleep, she drowsily feels him kiss the top of her head, dimly hears him whisper something.

"Love you."

She smiles. It's still not the whole sentence, but it will do.

.

End.

.

A/N: (aaargh awkward point of view transitions arggh wow such a lack of plot aaaargh)

I have very little clue what the sleeping arrangements are like with Chrom's army. I know you've got bath tents for men and women, and a mess tent to eat in. Then you have the barracks which would make sense for single soldiers, but do the married ones then get a bigger… tent? Yurt? Cantonment? (thank you Google) I keep picturing everyone in their own individual yurt-like structures, pitched quite close to one another.

(Which explains Cherche's concern. Though why she worries I'm not sure – they're too exhausted from fighting to make love most of the time anyway so most of the camp would probably grin knowingly at other people first, rather than her and Gaius. Besides, they're hardly the loudest couple. That might be Virion and Sully. And I wouldn't be surprised if Vaike is inappropriately 'omg can you not I'm tryin' to sleep here you jerk' loud because Maribelle would probably rock his world. I'm just sayin'.

…look you have your headcanons, I have mine.)

I loved Gaius and Cherche's support conversations. From A to S, I loved his reactions and her reactions and their entire chemistry, and if it results in crappy writing like this, then well… SO BE IT. I'M SORRY.

…thank you for reading this far as well as any corrections or critique you may have. :D