A/n: I realized that whenever I write Hope he's in the pre-FFXIII-2 period and I'm always putting him through the wringer. So, I present humor Hope! This story is set in a slightly alternate universe where Fang, Vanille and Lightning all stick around after those end credits roll. I hope you enjoy, and reviews are much appreciated!

"You're sure?"

Hope nodded, his eyes fixed on the woman in front of him. She stared at him with a bit of uncertainty, but her posture was confident and easy as it usually was. This told him that she was testing him.

Sure enough, at his answer, she smirked and picked up her lance from where it lay on the ground. He'd invited her out for the double purpose of training and telling her his news, and dropped the bomb as she stopped to fix her sandals. "Well, can't say I didn't see it coming. Good for you, kid," she said as warmly as she said anything.

He smiled, then stood to his full height beside her. His eyes darted from the ground, littered with rocks, to her calm profile. "Really? You don't think... it's weird?"

Fang shrugged, twirling her lance absently. "I'm not one to judge," she said now, taking long and even strides so that he had to walk almost double-time to keep up with her. Even though he'd grown taller over the years, he couldn't match her speed. She looked over her shoulder at him, and ever-blunt, she said, "Who can choose who they fall in love with?"

He blushed at her use of the word love. "I- I never said-"

Fang pivoted so that she was walking backwards, bent forward at the waist and levelled that smirk at him, along with a knowing glint in her eye. "You didn't have to, smooth guy."

His blush deepened. Why did he ever think to tell Fang first?

She backed off then, raising an eyebrow. She put her hands on her hips and jerked her head to the side, at an ugallu and its pack of gorgonopsids. "So, you got over the hard part of this, now, am I right? Now let's do the easy part and beat the tar out of something."

Still unable to look at her, he coughed, nodded, and fumbled for his boomerang.

He needed someone understanding next, so Sazh it was. Sazh had been nicer to him than he deserved as long as they'd known each other - maybe it was fatherly instinct. Sazh had proved himself a good listener too, staying silent throughout all of Hope's depressed talks and philisophical waxings. Hope imagined that Sazh would welcome this change of topic. They met at the stables outside of Sazh's house.

"Hold up," Sazh said now, actually holding up both gloved hands in the universal signal for stop. One hand held a brush used to groom chocobos, with which he stroked the feathers of Dajh's pet. The chocobo gave an impatient bleat, sensing Sazh's stopping. "You're not pullin' my leg, are you? You're serious?"

Hope furrowed his brow and nodded vigorously like a child. He'd learned to stop being one, slowly, but with Sazh he couldn't help slipping backwards a bit - he realized that he expected different from Sazh. He didn't think Sazh would question him. Was it so inconceivable?

He hoped he wasn't pouting on top of this all. It was just that he expected a different response from his long-time friend. He pulled his own brush through the feathers of the chocobo, trying to hide his disappointment.

Sazh didn't seem to notice, putting a hand to his chin and getting that look that Hope knew was his thinking face. "When'd you realize this?"

Hope's gaze darted from the chocobo's neck to Sazh's face. "A few weeks ago, I guess." He continued to stroke the chocobo, pulling away loose feathers. It made a low thrumming noise in its throat and its tail wagged.

"No kidding," Sazh murmured to himself upon receipt of this piece of information. "You tellin' her?"

He cleared his throat nervously and started tugging harder at the feathers beneath his brush. "Um. I'm not sure." Truthfully, he hadn't even thought about telling her. What would he say? How would she take it? "Do you think I should tell her?" he asked now, his own insecurity sounding transparent.

Sazh began to groom the chocobo again, apparently over the initial shock of Hope's news. He looked over the body of the giant bird at Hope. "Heck if I know. She's not exactly the easiest lady to figure out. You sure know how to pick 'em."

Hope's brain kicked into overdrive, imagining them sitting on the couch in his apartment, him telling her. She laughed in his face. She gave him the weirdest look and walked away, completely silent. She tossed water at him and told him to get out. The stress coming off of him became palpable, and Sazh watched this intensify with a worried look. Sazh tried to break Hope out of his thoughts, but his efforts were unsuccessful. Hope was lost in a sea of scenarios pulled from movies.

Suddenly, Hope was jerked back to reality as the chocobo cawed angrily and bit his forearm. "Augh! Sazh! Help!"

Sazh rushed around, taking Hope's arm in one hand and the chocobo's beak in the other. "Stop!" he reprimanded the chocobo, as it played tug of war with Hope's forearm. Finally, it let go.

Hope examined his forearm. Just a row of little red indents. He stared at his arm in mild disbelief. "What was that?"

Sazh looked pointedly at the ground. "I tried to stop you."

Hope followed Sazh's gaze to the ground. A large pile of yellow feathers lay gathered at his feet. He squeaked, "Oh."

The chocobo gave a grunt then, and Hope looked up into its eyes. After a second of silent communication, the chocobo snorted and ran off into the pasture, kicking up its discarded feathers. The large majority of them landed in Hope's hair.

After a moment of silence, Sazh shot a pitying glance his way and spoke up. "You sure got a way with the ladies."

Hope shut his eyes and delicately scrunched his nose at the spatter across his face.

Once he'd emptied his mouth of drink, the oaf began to laugh. "Good one, Hope!"

Hope looked around at the other restaurant patrons, whose collective attentions had been caught by Snow's obnoxiously loud laughing. I know, he rolled his eyes with them, and they seemed to let this go.

Serah whispered a reprimand at her husband and got up from her chair. She sat next to Hope and took a napkin to the - mercifully - white wine dripping from the point of his nose. "Sorry," she apologized for Snow. Hope just took the napkin from her and wiped his face himself as Snow belatedly realized the absence of Serah from his side.

"Hey, what gives?" Snow asked.

Serah put a hand to Hope's chest. "I fell for his boyish good looks," she teased, sticking her tongue out. Hope suddenly wished he'd told them each separately, and not in a place as public as a restaurant. Snow and Serah were too much to handle when they were together, not to mention when they were slightly buzzed. The better half of the couple spoke again - "And I don't think Hope was kidding."

Hope deposited the napkin on the tabletop as Snow shot forward in his seat, rattling the cutlery and drawing more stares. Being so ridiculously tall, Snow's legs barely fit beneath the table. "Hope, you were being serious? Really?"

Once upon a time, Hope would have shrunk back from Snow's over-enthusiasm for, well, everything. As a seasoned veteran though, he just gave Snow the flattest glare possible. "Yes, I was."

"Sis? For Shiva's sake, why?" Snow asked, even as he seemed to accept the truth of the matter. He sat back.

Insulted for her sister, Serah kicked her husband underneath the table. The yelp that came from Snow's mouth made it a little better that he'd been sprayed by the oaf's spit. Now, Serah's arms came around Hope in a hug. "What he means is that you have our blessing! I'd begun to think that she'd never find a guy. And especially not such a cute one! Tell us the second you tell her, okay?" She pulled back, and her smile was confident and sweet.

Hope paused. "Uh- um. I'm not sure I should."

Serah's frown was instant. The speed with which her expression changed was a bit scary. "Why wouldn't you?" she asked, in a way that he suspected that no matter what reason he gave her, it would be a wrong one.

He hazarded an answer anyway - the most obvious and probable one - "She might not like me back?"

Snow guffawed, a chunk of meat nearly falling out of his mouth, and Serah's frown turned into a frowning smile. Their reactions made his brow unstitch, maybe even hope for an of course she likes you, which would make sitting through this meal worth it.

What he got instead was Serah grabbing his bicep. Hope thought up a memo to himself: Serah gets touchy when she drinks. Her grip got tighter on his arm. "You can't let that stop you. Look, this is true love. Even if she won't accept you at first, you have to show her that you're worth it!"

What was all this love business? He hadn't told anyone he lo-

"That's how Snow and I started. I wouldn't give him the time of day when we first knew each other," Serah said now, in the fondest of voices. She took a sip of her wine matter-of-factly.

Hope's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. But he won me over," she smiled at her husband. In turn, Snow's mouth curved into a half-smile that could only be described as shit-eating.

"How'd he do that?" Hope asked, his voice cracking, embarassingly. Neither Serah nor Snow seemed to notice though, as she was leaving her seat to sit by Snow again, and he was giving her wolfish looks. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn't even notice when he muttered, disgusted, that he didn't want to know anymore.

He forked his dessert quickly into his mouth as Serah giggled too loud and fed Snow tiramisu.

"Excuse me, sir," their waiter approached, equal parts regretful and disgusted. "We're going to have to ask your party to leave. There have been complaints from several other customers."

Snow murmured that they would be more than happy to leave while scooping Serah up from her seat. She had the decency to blush and wave goodbye to Hope while Snow breezed out of the restaurant doors.

"Your bill," the waiter said, again sounding regretful.

Hope's head began to pound. Now he was out several thousand gil, knew way more about Snow and Serah's relationship than he had ever wanted, and he couldn't ever come to this restaurant again without burning to a crisp from humiliation.

Please, Alexander, let this go better than all the other times, Hope prayed silently as Vanille digested his news. He watched her profile carefully, her face a mask and her position never changing. Honestly, she was starting to scare him a bit. Vanille lived in a perpetual state of motion. Usually her calves were swinging as they sat on the edge of this ledge in their spot at the Yaschas Massif. She was also usually babbling, dispensing all the gossip she'd accumulated over the past week.

Just when he raised his hand to nudge her, she looked up at him. "I didn't know you felt that way," she said, strangely monotone. He felt on edge - his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. But it turned out that his body was prepared for the complete wrong thing, because she suddenly began to cry.

"Vanille! What's wrong?" he asked her urgently. His hands hovered around her, not sure what to do.

She really was crying, her eyelashes clumping into triangles and her eyebrows piquing together in a sorrowful way. "All this time... I thought it was me."

As her words sunk in, Hope felt a terrible guilt and dread creep through him. Vanille thought... he liked her? He had never even considered her that way. He thought that it was clear that their walks to the Yaschas Massif were completely nostalgic- and platonic! Had he done something that could be misconstrued? He paled. "Va- Vanille- I- I'm sorry," he stuttered. His hands folded awkwardly into his lap. "I- I- I had no idea."

"You still don't!" she cried, her voice trembling.

"What?" he cried back, suddenly nervous. Oh gods. What else could she possibly have to say?

His face was very suddenly in between Vanille's hands, and her green eyes were heart-stoppingly close to his. He desperately hoped she wouldn't do anything they'd both regret. "How," she said angrily, "how could you have told Fang before you told me?"

His brain skittered off in several directions, trying to decipher her meaning. His mouth fell open. Wha-

"Not that I didn't know already, of course," she said in her smarty-pants voice. She gave his cheek a solid pat - ow - and let him go. Her green eyes were mysteriously tear-free now.

"What," he said intelligently, still stunned.

She jumped up from her position at his side, dusting the seat of her skirt as she did so. He followed her with his eyes. She whipped around then, a loud jangle issuing from her clothes, and stabbed a finger at him. "That was payback for not telling me first, Hope Estheim!"

He stared at her. Then he turned back around, sighed, and his head fell into his hands. He tugged at his hair.

"I got you good, didn't I?" she asked him perkily, plopping down at his side again.

He shot her a dirty look.

"You told Snow before you told me!" she explained, crossing her arms over her chest.

Now he gave a small chuckle. "You're right. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation I was permanently scarred from that conversation," he said sarcastically.

She smiled.

He cast a glance at the setting sun, the sky streaked gorgeously with pink and purple. He kept his voice as gentle as possible for what he told her next. "Do something for me, will you? Keep smiling. It makes me happy- hey!" He rubbed his arm at the exact spot she had landed a punch.

She looked at her fist proudly. "Now we're even. And now let's plan how you'll confess to Light!"

Hope tugged uncomfortably at his new black tie in his kitchen, purchased just two days before in addition to the white dress shirt (with french cuffs, whatever that meant), cuff links and black slacks he wore. Vanille insisted on picking his outfit for tonight, and so his bank account had recently been depleted of several thousand more gil in addition to that disastrous, disgusting dinner with Snow and Serah. Serah had called the following morning with an apology, and had even driven by with a cake baked fresh this morning, insisting that it was Light's favourite dessert. Serah he forgave. Snow he would avoid for at least another week...

Sazh's contribution: Penelope the chocobo for a post-dinner ride on the beach. Hope offered Penelope the tomatoes he'd been growing on his balcony for two months as a peace offering for her slightly mottled coat of feathers. She seemed to fully forgive him, at least judging from her affectionate nudging after her belly was full of tomato. Now, she ran around the backyard he shared with his condo neighbour, probably tearing up grass.

Last but not least - Fang stopped by not twenty minutes ago, ate part of the main course when he went to change his clothes, and whistled at him appreciatively when he came out again. He promptly turned pink and kicked her out.

Now, he took out his only wineglasses from his cupboard, along with several plates. He set them on the counter, mind preoccupied with how he'd tell her.

Maybe over dessert? So that if she refused him, they wouldn't have to sit through an awkward dinner? Maybe on the beach? The colours of the sunset could hypnotize her or something. Oh, gods. What was he doing? Why had he let them all plant this idea in his head and then actually get him to follow through on it?

A knock sounded on his door. He glanced over at the clock - it was seven sharp - and knew that it had to be her. She was ever-punctual, solid as a rock. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to run a marathon, smoothed away imaginary wrinkles in his shirt, and strode over to the door.

"Hello," she greeted him.

He smiled a little shyly down at her. It was still weird being taller than her. "Hi, Light," he said quietly. He moved quickly out of the doorway and she entered easily, already having been over to Hope's place many times before.

"You cleaned," she said a little flatly, sitting in his now spotless living room. (He chuckled nervously.) "And you look nice," she added a little suspisciously, eyeing his tie.

He cleared his throat - it had closed up very quickly on seeing Light's outfit. She was rarely ever out of uniform, and if she was she never looked... quite like this. "You're one to talk," he joked back, evading. As soon as the words left his mouth he tensed, wondering if he should've said that.

Light looked down at herself, clad in a soft, loosely knit lavender shirt and white miniskirt. She gave a short laugh, much to Hope's relief. "Serah took me shopping. I know - I look ridiculous."

"I wouldn't say that," Hope objected, walking over to her with two glasses in his hands. Light accepted hers and took a gulp. Hope conjured a funny story from thin air and waved his hands a lot, fuelled by Light's attentive gaze and occasional half-second smile. When he was storied out, he stabbed a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Let's start dinner."

Light got up, set her glass down on the kitchen table, went directly to the oven and pulled out their entrees. He arrived too late to stop her. This wasn't good - she wasn't supposed to be doing anything! Given the number of times they'd made dinner together though, her actions weren't completely unprecedented... Still, he was supposed to be directing this date- dinner. Dinner. In his brain, he saw her sitting at the table just waiting to be taken by surprise at how delicious-looking-and-smelling his food was. Instead, she was plating the food, and turned to him with a neutral look on her face. "Hope. Sit."

Reluctantly, he sat. When she took her place across from him, he blurted, "You didn't have to do that, you know."

She shrugged, which caused the neckline of her shirt to slip a bit, exposing her collarbone. "You cooked," she explained. Her fork was already in her hand, and she speared one of her greens.

He smiled weakly. He ate distractedly, thinking that this did not set a good precedent for the rest of the evening.

And maybe it didn't, because the rest of their entrees were eaten in silence. He sat forward in his chair, on edge, looking up at her every ten seconds. She ate at a very measured pace, only giving a small smile every time they managed to catch each other's eyes. He guessed a smile was better than the weird looks or water to the face that he'd imagined...

They finished at the same time. He'd watched her, trying to match her so that she wouldn't feel she was going too slow or too fast (a tip from Vanille, which he figured couldn't hurt). He collected Light's plate quickly, and went to the cake that lay covered on the counter. "What do you say to some dessert?"

Her mouth pulled up at one corner. "Sure," she answered in her usual husky tone, and it could have been seductive if he wanted to think in that direction- too late. May I feed you your dessert? May I kiss the cream that has caught on the corner of your mouth? His brain shortwired and he ended up cutting a very crooked slice of cake for himself.

He slid her plate onto the table in front of her and armed her with a new fork. Her eyes trailed him as he went to sit again. He had just taken his first bite - and wow, Serah could open a bakery based on this one dessert - when Light spoke.

"Hope. What is all this?"

He gulped. She was taking the reins again, it seemed. He should bring it up himself, on his own time...

But a quick look up nixed that. Light had raised an eyebrow and was not eating the delicious cake. That, and her shirt had slid off her shoulder enough to display her glorious collarbone. With her looking mildly pissed but still beautiful, there was no way he was getting out of this. He cleared his throat. "Light, I asked you over this evening to do something... but- but not in you doing me a favour sort of way! As in, I want to do something... something involving you. Kind of way."

Gods, he was a complete idiot. Light's expression was flatout skeptical.

"What I wanted to do was tell you something. Uh. Um... how long have we known each other now?"

Light leant forward in her seat to rest her forearms on the table. Like she was some kind of interrogator. This brought her face about a foot and a half closer, so that he could see the baby blue in her eyes. "Six years," she answered sparsely, encouraging him to get to the point.

"Yes, six years. And, um, over that time, we've stayed pretty close, haven't we?" He leant forward too, allowing her a view of the deeper green in his eyes. One of his hands stayed resting on the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. His tie went forward with him, hitting the edge of the table.

Her eyes darted to the swinging of his tie, then back up. "Yes," she said, licking her lips.

He looked down at his wobbly cake wedge and chickened out. "S-so, I wanted to say thanks for everything you've done for me. You're... amazing."

Her brow furrowed, though he couldn't see, as he was still staring determinedly at his cake. It was when she spoke that he looked up. "Hope. Don't sell yourself short. You're amazing, too."

He looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. Had she really just said that? He felt a load of adrenalin hit his bloodstream. "Light?"

It might have been his imagination, but she seemed to soften. "What is it?"

He nibbled at his bottom lip. Then he moved his hand from its spot at his neck to rest on one of her hands. He found her eyes and stayed on them. "I love you," he told her. It came out without a stumble.

She closed her eyes. He felt himself shake, and wondered if it transmitted to her at all through their joined hands. But then her thumb moved, and it landed on his own. His heart felt the full effects of the adrenalin, then, and took off into a gallop. This was it. What would she say?

"I know," she said.

Hope was fully prepared for a gentle rejection, so at this, he did a full-body stutter. I know? What... what did that mean?

"Snow told me," she said now, and her face broke out into a smile, eyes twinkling the slightest bit.

Light's thumb was the only thing keeping him in place. "Snow what?" Hope's anger was boiling in mere seconds. He'd kill Snow. He'd kill him. Oh, what he wouldn't give for the ability to still summon Alexander... the moron had told her?

"He's still an idiot," she agreed.

"I'm going to kill him," he said, then cracked the knuckles of his free hand.

Light sat patiently at the other end of the table. Her thumb had started to moved in slow circles over Hope's skin.

When he'd calmed down, he realized a few things. His face heat up. "So you knew the whole time?"

Having nothing to hide, she said, "More or less."

"Which one? More, or less?" He tilted his head.

Her collarbone moved beneath her silken skin as she shrugged. "Less. I knew for sure when I saw you dressed like that." She stared pointedly at his tie.

He swallowed nothing, making his Adam's apple bob. "Oh."

She smiled again. She was doing a lot of that tonight, and it was taking him some getting used to. "Hope. You're forgetting something."

He looked up again, not even realizing his head had bowed. He imagined he looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights - eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. "What?"

She withdrew her hand from beneath his and said matter-of-factly, "If I love you back or not."

His mouth bent out of shape at the sight of her retreating hand. He knew it wasn't exactly a confession, but he'd figured her not throwing drink in his face was acceptance enough. He was back to stuttering - "O-oh."

She pushed out her chair and stood. She reached down and across the table then, and startled him as she took ahold of him by the tie, and pulled him to his feet. Taking control again. He was a discombobulated mess - almost hitting his knees, not knowing what to do with his hands - he only knew to keep his eyes on hers as he rose. She was certain in what she did, as always, intimidating even in her flimsy outfit. It was not her expression so much as the figure she cut. He almost collapsed when she tugged his face closer to hers. He clamped his lips tight and gulped, not knowing what to do.

What happened next was unexpected by them both - least of all Hope. What happened next was that he leant forward and kissed her.

She reacted by pulling him tighter by the tie, deepening their kiss. His hands found her face, ghosting over her cheeks and moving through her hair. One of her hands stayed firmly wrapped around his tie, the other fisted in his hair.

The thing that stopped them was not the need for air - it was a weird sort of squealing. They broke apart at the same moment and checked the kettle in tandem, even though there was no conceivable way it could be on and boiling water. It wasn't. Then a flash of pink at the window caught his eye.

He went quickly to the window and pushed it up in haste. Light had followed him and was at the window too, and now stared down at a sheepish collection of Serah (the pink he'd seen), Snow, Sazh, Fang and Vanille. Well, that description wasn't entirely accurate. Serah, Snow and Sazh were sheepish. Fang and Vanille were positively mischevious, grinning ear-to-ear.

Hope raised his eyebrows. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Kiss her some more," Fang said unapologetically.

Vanille pantomimed a tie around her neck. "You're welcome!" she exclaimed. Hope knew his lips were throbbing, so he figured a thanks was, in fact, due to Vanille sometime.

"Still gonna kill me, buddy?" Snow asked in a cocky fashion, arms pillowing his head.

Hope narrowed his eyes at the oaf, then looked to Light. She just nodded.

"You bet I will," he promised. Then, at a shout of indignation from Snow and some very impressed looks from everyone else, he slammed the window shut and closed the blinds.

"Nice," Light said appreciatively.

"Thanks," he said. And before he could sabotage himself, he closed the distance between them and kissed her again. If he could take the lead in anything, he was glad it could be this.

"I love you," she murmured to him between kisses.

He pulled back, and put his forehead to hers. Relieved, and so, so happy, he felt a laugh bubbling in his throat. "I know," he told her.