This is my attempt to write for KQ because lack of fandom and stories for them make me sad. My original OTP~.
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Type-0 or any of its characters, they remain the respective property of Square Enix and I make no profit.
It started with tutoring sessions in the library; Queen would take them right to the back of the bookshelves with the excuse that it was quieter there and therefore easier to concentrate. But King has seen how she manages to work in all kinds of environments, even when Nine and Sice begin bickering over who is the stronger one; he suspects she's self-conscious about being seen alone with Class Zero's number thirteen.
Amidst books and scattered notes on the table, she teaches him; unlike some whom she has taught before, she finds no complaints in him. He listens intently to her every word, paying her his constant attention. But sometimes she questions whether his attention is on her teaching or her. Insecurity rises, and hiding the faint blush on her cheeks, Queen turns sharply away from him to continue with the lesson; had she not turned, she might have caught the subtle upturning of his lips into a smile.
...
Despite her many hours of extra study, somehow she finds herself again in the same place, going over the same material. One would have expected King's grades to rise, especially with Queen as his tutor. In fact, she begins to question how his grades have started slipping. However much classroom lectures did bore him, his grades had never fallen this low. Her curiosity is piqued when King only looks a little too happy to see her every time in the back corner of the library.
...
"You… startle me," she confesses one time during their break.
"…In what way?"
His quiet, but deep voice is only loud enough for her to hear.
"Why me?"
She has already put together the pieces; he had known it was only a matter of time.
"Does there need to be a reason?" he responds calmly. "Contrary to your belief, sometimes there is no answer."
The quickening beat of her heart is enough to tell her that this is a puzzle that cannot be solved by logic.
"You think too much, you know that?"
And when his fingers slide over hers, she lets her mind go, just this once.
...
When he is subjected to more supplementary tutoring, the two share a knowing look; one that is only for the other to see. He is aware, and even she knows that his current grades belie his true knowledge; he consistently performs perfectly in all of her practice tests.
She has no objections to going over the same material over and over; for she knows now that he comes not to be taught, but to listen to the sound of her voice. As she teaches, his fingers reach out to play with strands of her dark hair. She inhales sharply upon the contact, prompting him to halt his fingers' dance. Had it been anyone else, her glare might have been more scolding; but she realises that she can't stay mad at him, as her look softens into a smile and she allows him to continue.
...
His fingers reach out to touch her cheek, prompting her to flinch though not as sharply as she once did. When she turns to face him, his hand lingers there, his thumb stroking her cheek in small circles. Again, she can't fight the growing blush on her cheeks.
Her eyes trace the features of his face; from his cool, yet gentle eyes to the defining lines of his chin. She finds herself enraptured, for reasons unknown; she desperately wants to be free of his charm, but at the same time she doesn't want to push him away anymore.
His fingers skip over her glasses, removing them from her face. Immediately she feels vulnerable, trying harder to maintain those walls she has always kept around herself. But it's been done, and she's already let him in too close.
She's fighting a losing battle, and they are both well aware of that. The last of her walls come down when their noses touch. And all her insecurities fall away the moment his lips press against hers.
He feels so warm, so inviting; she can't help but melt into him, closing her eyes in quiet surrender as she lets him in, the closest she's ever been to someone. How he managed to break down her walls in a way no one else was able to, she doesn't know; but the way he makes her feel is something new, something foreign to her. And all she wants is to lose herself in him.
Tentatively, she holds a palm to his cheek, supporting herself against his kiss. His lips are soft, crushing hers in a way that is light, but gentle. When they finally pull away, she can't help but finger her lips, tingling with the taste of him. She looks up, and she sees something different in him now; even his eyes seem softer than usual.
Neither of them speak, for it seems that their eyes do most of the talking. And the unspoken words between them are more than enough. It takes a small smile from Queen and her fingers clasping over his for them both to realise what – and who – they have.