Prompt/Title: Speechless
Pairing: Basch fon Ronsenburg and Penelo; Final Fantasy XII
Summary: He forgets about said wounds on purpose and he says it is because he is terrible at White Magick. That isn't true, he merely hates the thought of his skin mending itself back together as all he is reminded of is the cruelty of the Imperial Mages that could making healing such a painful experience.
AN: Oneshot. Basically just fluff because I didn't want to write smut today.
I have role played this pairing for over a year with an unbelievably talented Basch role player and this is sort of a celebratory post/gift to them.
He just finishes setting up his tent when he notices her presence behind him. He isn't sure how long she had been there, or why she was here approaching him at all. He straightens and turns, now standing tall over her and he wonders if perhaps he is intimating. She smiles though and so he decides that it must not be so.
She is a mixture of features of people he once knew and in the last three months of knowing her it has been hard to look her way. She is the image of her mother, as were two of her brothers. Flaxen hair that he remembers as shoulder-length and flowing is on this girl bunched up into two stiff braids. The blue eyes are brighter and she is curved, soft and so very short. Her brothers were his friends, pupils, brothers in arms. She is still a mystery to him.
They share a smile, the silence is both deafening and comforting. He is at ease with her, but so very frightened by her. Vaan is a walking reminder, but she is more like a pleasant ghost. A mixture of so much sorrow but she is just so bright. She even kills hoards of beasts with a sunny disposition.
"I came to check on you." She says, as though it is the most important thing to her in the world. As though he means something to her, to others. Whenever she speaks to him, Gods, even looks at him, he gets this feeling and it is so frustrating for him to feel because it makes him think things about her that he shouldn't. It has been two years since he has felt deserving of any worth, and over two years before he has felt the other feeling he feels now.
"I am fine, you need not do so. This tent was just merely stiff." His eyes have been trailing her curves and yes, he did just say stiff. He blesses the fates that these shorts are still extremely baggy right now.
She laughs, airy, and it floats around them. Everything is silent and he wonders why they are so alone. He wonders how long they will be alone because he needs someone to interrupt them so that he doesn't do something he will regret.
"You were injured. I wanted to check that you were okay. We can't have our fearless knight falling in battle. Who would I have to talk to?" She smiles and indicates the poorly bandaged wound on his arm, the poorly bandaged wound he forgot to heal when they settled down to camp. He forgets about said wounds on purpose and he says it is because he is terrible at White Magick. That isn't true, he merely hates the thought of his skin mending itself back together as all he is reminded of is the cruelty of the Imperial Mages that could making healing such a painful experience.
Without a reply from him, she takes his hand and leads them into the tent. She sits and indicates him to do so and he does. They sit opposite each other in silence for minutes, and he wonders why she said that she wouldn't have anyone to talk to if he wasn't there as he never speaks anyway. He listens and she talks. He speaks when she prods him to and to be honest, most of their time spent together is spent with her smiling at him the way she is smiling now, and him trying to distract himself from thinking of other things her pretty mouth could do to him. No wonder the gods despise him when he has thoughts like this.
Without any warning, she sits ups and grabs his injured arm. He goes to speak, to tell her to not bother herself with wasting Mist on him but she smiles up at him and he is damn speechless again. "I know you don't like doing it," she says and he is again blown away. "I'm going to be as gentle as possible, okay? It's not going to hurt you." She stares into his eyes with complete sincerity and he can't deny her this. So he nods and lets her pull away the bandaging that was once a spare shirt. She tuts and sighs and he is ashamed that he didn't fix it himself, ashamed that he is making her waste her time on him.
When she finally removes bandaging, she frowns and he hates himself for making her do so. He wants her to be always smiling. She starts to talk about how she is going to heal it, as though she is talking through the process but all he can focus on is her moving mouth that is still frowning. It stops moving and he realises it is quiet again. He really should have been listening but he nods his head anyway, hoping that she didn't say to him 'we are going to have to chop it off, are you okay with that, Basch?' She smiles as though she believes him to be confused and she lifts her hands to cover his injury. For the first time, he looks down to it and sees that it is red and inflamed but somehow clean. Did she clean it? he wonders. Really, when around her he seems to take nothing in and it is possible she has done so even though there is no clean cloth or potions near them.
Her spare hand slips around his own. It's meant to be comforting, supportive but he is just full of thought about how soft it is, how it fits into his grasp so perfectly even though it is dwarfed by his own hand. He is interrupted from his thoughts when a warm white light bleeds out of her other hand and his arm is warmed. There is no pain, no discomfort. Just warmth and a tingling sensation. It lasts mere moments and he feels like a child for being so stupid about this, but it is a fear that never seems to go away and this is not the first time she has come to him for this reason. She always heals him, and he repays her for it by constantly being at her side in battle, even though she is not his Princess and he has no duty to her. No formal duty anyway.
He is about to thank her when she moves closer and lays her lips on his. He is dreaming, he must be because she is kissing him, and she only does so in his dreams. It is innocent and soft and he is dazed to the heavens because this is happening and she prompted it. It doesn't stay innocent for long as he feels her tongue seeking entrance against his closed lips, and that is all it takes to break his resolve. His once injured arm slips around her small frame and she is pulled onto his lap. She mews as he opens his mouth to her, gods he is simply breaking because of this woman.
It is all a dance of tongues and roaming hands until she pulls away to look at him. He worries that she will leave, run away because of what she has just done but instead a soft hand comes up to his face, brushing his hair off of his temple and into his usual style. The hand hesitates over the crude scar that mares his face, tracing it, and he knows she is wishing she could heal that too. His arm tighten around her middle and she is pulled back to reality.
She smiles to him again and he just can't take it any more. He moves his head to rest into the crook of her neck, nuzzling it happily and her giggle like pure sunshine. He laughs too because it is infectious. "Penelo," That is all he can do, all he can muster. A soft murmur of her name against her skin.
"Yes, Basch." There is no question, just acknowledgement. There is still mirth in her voice but it sobers as she idly brings a hand up to thread into his hair.
"You truly want for this?" His word catch against his throat and all he can feel is worry and self hatred because she is wasting herself on him. "There is my age, my status, that it be none existing as I am meant to be a dead man. You are young and whole and could do so much-" He is cut off by a hand resting under his chin, a hand that slowly lifts his face from her neck so that she can meet his gaze again.
"I would not be here if I didn't want this." She gives him that smile again and he is lost in her again. She unwinds the hand from his hair and brings both hands to his shoulders, softly pushing him back and he knows what it is she wants. He lays down, taking her with him as his arm is still wrapped tightly around her waist. She settles on top of him and she is a soft, comforting weight. They do nothing more than lay there, for he will not force anything from her that she doesn't want. Her hands roam and he squeezes his arm around her waist when her touches make him shiver, whilst his free hand fiddles with the end of a soft braid.
The spell is broken by Balthier, who calls to all that their food for the night is finally ready to eat. There is a shout of anger from the Lady Ashe, the chef of tonight's meal who did not seem to appreciate the sarcasm present in the pirate's tone when he made his announcement. Basch groans heavy and closes his eyes, too tired and content to move. A playful tap on his nose makes him open them again. Penelo is the only thing insight, giving him that smile. His smile he decides, because he hopes she only smiles like that for him. He kisses her again, an unspoken question of if this is going to happen again. She kisses him back and he is sure he knows her answer.
They cut it short on hearing Vaan's whine and he helps her stand and smooths out her braid that he fiddled with. They walk out to meet the others as though nothing has happened between them, saying that Penelo merely just healed his arm. Only Fran seems to suspect something, but from the look her and Penelo exchange, it is doubtful the Viera will go off blabbing about what she knows. They eat as a group and Penelo sits at his side with more glances are exchanged than normal. When watches are discussed, Fran voices that he could swap with her as he needs rest from his injury. He doesn't miss the fact that he now has first watch with flaxen haired young woman he had just been holding in his tent, and he doesn't miss her smile to him either.
