"Fang!"

She grunted, only half aware of the voice calling out. She Shifted uncomfortably before rolling over and trying to nuzzle deeper into the covers, the sudden feeling of cold clinging to her skin. She half-consciously let out a low whine; it was never this cold in the mornings any other time. What had changed? She reached her hand out as if to grab hold of something, but only hit empty air.

"Fang!"

The voice this time was sharper, more urgent, and her eyes shot open as the early morning fog lifted from her mind and pieces began to fit together. Vanille. Vanille wasn't in bed and that's why it was colder than usual and now she was calling for her like there was something wrong and that meant that there probably was something wrong and that was bad. She threw off the blanket and jumped out of bed, stumbling slightly in her haste. She made to rush out the door, only to stop short in the doorframe at the sight of the red haired girl standing right in front of her looking none too pleased.

"Vanille!" Fang's panic had died down upon seeing that the girl was not visibly hurt, but she still held some measure of concern. Typically, Vanille was happy and had at least a small smile on her face, even in the morning. But instead, she was upset; not angry, per se – Vanille had a very hard time pulling off anger – but more so disappointed, and Fang hated it whenever she was disappointed. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Vanille answered by holding out one of her light pink shirts for the older woman to see, frowning – although Fang would personally describe it as more of a pout. The article of clothing didn't appear clean, which was strange, because Vanille always did laundry over the weekend; it was wrinkled and mussed, but more strangely, it was covered in dark brown strands. "Fang," Vanille stated, putting just enough emphasis on the name for Fang to know that she was in trouble, "you're shedding."

Fang paused for a moment as the information sunk in. Once the statement registered completely, she groaned and rolled her eyes. "Goddammit, Vanille, don't do that! And here I thought there was actually something wrong!"

One of Vanille's hands dropped from the shirt and became a tightly clenched fist at her side as she stamped her foot somewhat childishly. "Fang, this is something wrong!" she replied, trying very hard to assert herself in a way that would make Fang take her seriously. In fact, Fang actually did start to feel a little bad for dismissing the issue so casually – not because she was actually intimidated by the shorter woman, but because she looked so upset over an issue as trivial as clothes. "I just washed and ironed this shirt last weekend!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. That sounded rude." Fang said hastily, holding up her hands in a show of apology to make nice. Vanille was already upset, which was bad enough – being yelled at on top of that just made her felt worse. "'S not like it's really something I can control, though…" She continued with an awkward shrug of her shoulders. "It's spring. It's getting warmer. Gotta get rid of the winter coat, y'know?"

"Oh, I know, but…" Vanille trailed off, looking at the shirt in her hands, obviously distraught. Now Fang, despite obviously not intending to get hair on Vanille's shirt, felt guilty. While it wasn't completely her fault, the entire issue fell on her shoulders at the end of the day and she was to blame. "This is one of my best shirts…" The red haired girl lamented, lowering her gaze to the floor. "I know it's not really your fault and I really can't get mad at you…I'm sorry, Fang."

"Hey, now." Fang moved instinctively towards her, taking her chin lightly and bringing her line of sight back up. "It's alright; you don't have anything to be sorry for. If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing here." The brunette hesitated a moment, fighting a minor inner battle, before sighing in defeat as she lost to herself. "And…to make up for it, while you're gone today, I'll clean up for you. Including the laundry."

Vanille's jade eyes widened and she pulled back from Fang, shaking her head. "No! No, Fang, you don't have to do that… Really, it's fine!" It was no secret that Fang, growing up under more…feral conditions, was not a fan of cleaning. While she was fully capable and knew how to clean, she hated tidying up of any kind.

"Well, that's just too bad, 'cuz I'm gonna do it anyway." Fang replied with a shrug of dismissal. It was also no secret that once Fang said she was going to do something, it would take nothing short of a stampede of rampaging bulls to dissuade her. She was by no means untruthful, and she took her word very seriously.

Vanille thought to attempt to assure Fang once more that that wasn't necessary and that she had overreacted over the issue, but the words died in her throat. Instead, the shirt fell from her grip and she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Fang's neck. Fang, not expecting the sudden attack, let out a surprised yelp and stumbled back slightly while trying to catch her.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Once Fang had steadied herself by leaning against the doorframe, she started laughing a light-hearted grin. "Easy there, Vanille! Might end up getting hair all over you."

Vanille responded by nuzzling into the crook of Fang's neck.

-x-

AN: So this is a little story idea I started for myself, originally. Don't ask me where the original idea came from; I don't remember. I started writing this as an attempt to one, get myself back into writing, and two, make myself feel better after a bout of depression. Then I said, "Eh, why not?" and decided to post it on here so I could get some feedback on my writing to make sure I'm not too rusty. Also, let's face it, the Final Fantasy XIII Archives have a severe lack of Fanille works.

So feel free to tell me what you think. All forms of criticisms are accepted. Until next time.