"You've gotta come out sometime, honey."
She hated when he used that 'I am being patient because you are a fragile, delicate little flower' tone.
"That's what you think," she shouted through the door. And as an afterthought, she added, "And don't call me honey, either!"
"What should I call you, then?" He was laughing again, but anything was better than that condescending tone. "Baby? Sweetheart? Darling?"
"I think I just threw up in my mouth." She made a disgusted face. "I have a name, you know." Angrily, she twisted the shower taps, pleased to find that the rushing water drowned out his voice. She checked the lock on the door just to be safe before disrobing and stepping into the shower and adjusting the shower curtain.
With the hot water pounding down on her back, she could almost forget about Gippal and his odd, unexpected shift from trusted friend to lusting friend. He'd never given her any reason in the past to think that he thought of her as anything more than Cid's daughter, or Brother's kid sister. And now he wanted to stick his tongue in her mouth and stick his fingers...well, it didn't bear thinking about. Still, he obviously knew what he was doing in that respect.
Irritated with herself for allowing herself to think of Gippal - Gippal, of all people! - in a sexual light, she scrubbed shampoo viciously through her hair, working up a lather. The soap stung her eyes, but she could suffer through it if it meant taking her mind off of Gippal. Especially the shirtless Gippal, with the sexy voice and the teasing laugh, and the...
She growled her irritation, rinsing conditioner from her hair, and turning off the taps.
"Don't be an idiot," she whispered to herself.
"Who's an idiot?" His voice was much too close.
She jumped in surprise, bare feet sliding in the slick tub. An arm thrust through the shower curtain, wrapping around her and yanking her back against his chest, the shower curtain still between them. His arm slid against her wet stomach, and she shoved at his arm.
"All right?"
"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of me and get out of my bathroom!" She jumped away when he let go of her, wondering how she was going to get to her towel when he was waiting right there.
"Want a towel?" He handed one through the gap at one end of the shower. "I didn't look, I promise. I was a good boy."
She snorted. "This must be some use of the word 'good' of which I was not previously aware. You broke into my bathroom!"
"But I saved you from falling."
"Which I wouldn't have done if you hadn't startled me by breaking into my bathroom!" She wrapped the towel around herself, holding it firmly. Now if she could only get out of the shower without any further incidents. Warily, she pushed the shower curtain away, peeking out at him. And immediately wished she hadn't. Because he was leaning against the door with a towel wrapped around his lean hips, his bare chest looking absolutely delicious. She stepped back, closed the shower curtain, and pressed her hands over her eyes. This wasn't going to do at all.
"I don't suppose this means you wanna shower with me?"
"No," she hissed back, gritting her teeth. She was just going to have to avoid looking at his chest. Or thinking about it. Touching it was right out.
She sighed, stepping gingerly out of the tub, taking care to keep the towel from riding up her thighs.
"You're blocking the door," she said patiently.
"So I've noticed."
"Could you move?" She frowned. "Please," she added, a little more kindly.
"Gotta pay the toll first, honey."
"Toll?" she asked sweetly.
"A kiss," he replied. And she was just certain that his usual smile had definitely crossed the line from grin to smirk.
"But I've only got a towel on!"
"So've I."
That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. But he'd taken hold of her shoulders with both hands, gently pulling her towards him, and she didn't dare look down to see if his towel had stayed in place. He tucked her up against that fantastic chest, and his hands fell to her waist, holding her there. She couldn't look at him, wouldn't take her eyes away from his throat. She was trying to look through him rather than at him, and she was failing miserably.
"Come on. Just a little one, I promise."
She wasn't stupid enough to believe him. That would be tantamount to suicide…or seduction, more likely. But still she tilted her face up to his.
He didn't kiss her right away. His fingers touched her cheek, tucking a wet lock of hair behind her ear. Then his bristly cheek touched hers and his lips brushed hers so gently she thought maybe she'd imagined it. He pulled just a little away, and she followed, rocking up onto her toes. It was the reaction he'd hoped for, she realized upon hearing his muffled chuckle. But then his lips were on hers again, and she forgot all about whether or not she was playing right into his hands.
Eventually his fingers began creeping under her towel, and she broke the kiss with a little gasp. She pushed away from him, glaring, irritated that he'd managed to break down her resolutions to keep him at arms' length.
"God, Gippal, at least shave first." She made a face and turned her back on him, pleased to see the mirror was still fogged up. He wouldn't be able to see her blush. "It's like kissing a cactuar."
"Did I scratch you?" He rubbed his palm over his jaw, gauging the length of his stubble. "Lemme see."
"No!" She jerked away from him, scooting around him to the now-abandoned door. "I'm fine. I'm going to go get dressed."
"All right," he let her go, a little amused over her odd behavior. "I'm going to take a quick shower, then. No peeking." He closed the door behind her, clicking the lock.
Annoyed, Rikku rummaged through her dresser, searching for the least-revealing outfit she possessed. She'd briefly considered picking the lock on the bathroom door just because he'd told her not to peek, but she decided he'd be more amused than irritated, and there was the distinct possibility that he'd take it as some sort of invitation.
She'd just finished twisting her still-damp hair into a braid when the door opened and he emerged in a towel.
"Sorry, left my clothes out here." His smile belied his apology. He wasn't sorry at all. She ignored him.
"Nice outfit, kid." He looked her over. "Haven't seen that one in years."
She flushed guiltily, certain that he knew exactly what had motivated her to don the old orange shirt (which was admittedly a little tight in the bust, now) and a pair of relatively modest shorts. It was the most concealing outfit she possessed.
"It's not gonna work, you know."
"No idea what you're talking about. Sorry." She feigned interest in choosing socks.
"Covering up like that," he gestured, and his towel slipped a little. "Not gonna stop me."
She swallowed heavily. "Maybe I just like this outfit, okay?"
"Whatever you say, kid," he laughed, retrieving his clothes. He looked at them distastefully. "Man, I'm gonna have to get a change of clothes today."
"But Djose's so far!" she protested.
"Naw, I'm just gonna stop by my house really quick."
"Your…house?" She echoed.
"Yeah, just down the street a little. It's not exactly a secret or anything, I just don't get out here too often, since Djose's my primary residence." He flicked a speck of mud off his boots.
"You have a house?"
"It's more of a cottage, really. Small."
"On Bikanel?"
"Yeah. I'm Al Bhed, aren't I? Why shouldn't I have a house here?"
"Then why the hell didn't you stay there last night!"
"Because I wanted to sleep with you."
Rikku's fingers curled, clutching fiercely at thing air, and he had the feeling that she itched to get them around his throat. Seething, she stomped off towards the kitchen, rummaging through and slamming drawers, creating a racket the likes of which he had never heard from her before. Finally, she found what she was searching for – a rolling pin.
"Get out."
"But I've only got a towel on!" Somehow, that line sounded familiar to him.
"Don't care." She pointed to the door. "Out!"
"But-"
"Out!" She brandished the rolling pin menacingly. Gippal thought she looked adorable, cheeks flushed with righteous indignation, arms akimbo, chest heaving in that too-tight shirt.
"Okay, okay," he shuffled towards the door, keeping a tight grip on the towel. Bikanel got some nasty sandstorms, and he'd be damned if he was going to be caught bare-assed in the middle of one. She followed behind him, lips pursed angrily. "I'm gonna go change, kid. Be right back." He dropped a kiss atop her head, and she shrieked her irritation.
"Out, out, out!" She aimed a swing at his rear, missing by a hair.
"Watch it!" He called, laughing.
"The next one won't miss!"
"All right, I'm going!" He turned back to grin at her one last time, standing on her front porch, oblivious to the people on the street around him, staring curiously. "See you in a few."
She slammed the door in his face.
- -
It took some work getting back in, but he had the benefit of surprise and all the skill of a master thief. He wasn't stupid enough to try for the front door – he went around the house to the bathroom window, easing it carefully up, and sliding silently through it. He could hear her in the kitchen, talking to herself. It was an interesting, amusing little habit she'd picked up.
"I'm gonna kill him," she was saying, and Gippal had no doubt she was referring to him. He peeked around the corner, watching her slide into a kitchen chair, resting her head on her folded arms.
"He'll be gone and I'll finally be happy. At least this whole 'relationship' nonsense will go away." She made a sound midway between a snort and a giggle. "If he's dead, Pops'll probably assign me to Djose. Might be fun to have something to do again." Her fingers drifted across the table aimlessly, and she sighed. "I might miss his butt, though. Maybe I could convince Pops to have a statue commissioned, or something. At least it wouldn't try to put its tongue in my mouth."
Despite the undeniable fact that she seemed to be plotting his untimely demise, Gippal couldn't help being thrilled to discover that she admired his butt. But, then, years of repressed desire might've skewed his priorities a little. He decided it would be a good time to make his appearance…before she got to the actual planning phase.
"Sorry it took so long, kid. It seems I got locked out."
She jumped, gasping a little. Her face went alternately red and white.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to know you think my butt is so fantastic that you want it immortalized." He grinned. "So what're you up to?"
"Contemplating homicide." She glared.
"So I heard." He grinned. "It tends to work better if your mark doesn't know he's gonna get it, though. So what say you we go to Kilika?"
"Kilika? Why?"
"Why not? Give you an excuse to try out that new hover. Long as I get to come, too, of course."
She'd forgotten about his birthday gift to her. She hadn't even seen it yet, she'd been so preoccupied with Gippal and his constant touchy-feely behavior.
"What do you say? We'll take the hover to the ferry, and the ferry to Kilika. I'll take you to a nice birthday lunch."
It seemed relatively harmless to her. And she really, really, really wanted to try out that hover.
"Just between you and me, it's relatively difficult to seduce women in public. And Kilika's about as public as it gets."
And that clinched it.
- -
Next thing she knew, she was climbing on her very own hover, cranking up the engine, thrilling at the soft whirr of the machine. Gippal climbed on behind her, hands firmly on her hips.
"Just for the record, I'm pushing you off if you make one move I don't like."
"Oh, you'll like it, I promise," he purred in her ear.
"Watch those hands!" She hit the gas, and the hover shot over the dunes. He held on, fingers stroking the bare flesh revealed between the top of her shorts and the bottom of that damned too-tight too-small shirt.
"You're gonna overshoot the ferry."
He sounded so damn calm when she was about to jump out of her skin. It was just maddening. She veered to the right, easing off the gas as they approached the beach. They eased the hover up the cargo ramp, parked it, and headed towards the front of the ferry.
The water was calm and blue, and the trip to Kilika was short. They didn't allow hovers in the port city, so she had to leave it parked at the docks until they were ready to leave.
Kilika had expanded a great deal in the post-Sin years. With Sin no longer around to destroy it time and time again, Kilika prospered and grew. It had become a bustling town with hundreds of shops, restaurants, and apartment complexes. The wooden buildings stacked high with intricate mazes of stairs and bridges. It was both daunting and fascinating.
They ate in a small café overlooking the water. Rikku picked at her food, watching the fishermen outside, hauling in their nets. The tide was getting rough, and their tiny boats were getting tossed around. Several had started back to shore.
"Why're they doing that?" she asked. "They could catch more fish. There's still plenty of daylight."
"Not for long," Gippal replied. "Storm's coming."
"What?" she gasped.
He took a bite of his sandwich, choosing his words before speaking. "Water's getting choppy. They're seasoned enough that they know a brewing storm when they see it."
"We've gotta get to the ferry! We've gotta get back to Bikanel!" She shot up, tossing a few bills on the table to cover their lunch. He caught her wrist, pulling her back down into the chair.
"Ferry'll be docked, too, kid. We're stuck in Kilika for the time being."
"Stuck?" she asked weakly. "But…I don't have enough money on me for a hotel room!"
"S'ok." He finished off his sandwich. "I got an apartment here."
"I am not staying in an apartment alone with you!"
He just smiled. "What other options have you got?"
It was sprinkling by the time he was quite finished with his dessert. And by the time they'd made it to the ferry dock – just to make absolutely certain the ferries weren't running – it had turned into a full-blown freezing rain. Lightening crackled in the air, and Rikku tried not to wince at every thunderclap. She was wet, cold, and miserable…so much so that she was almost glad when Gippal fumbled his keys out of his sodden pockets, unlocking the door. He held it open for her, and she trudged in, yanking off her boots. She didn't want to get his carpet soaked.
She heard the snick of the lock, and turned around. He was working the buttons of his shirt, and he looked just a little too pleased at the current turn of events.
"Rule number one," he teased, flinging the shirt across the room. It landed on the tile in the kitchen with a wet plop. "Lots and lots of touching."
- -
AN: I can't make any promises as to when I will next update this story. A family friend, whom I have known since childhood, recently died in a car crash. It was a big shock to me and my father, even more so to his family. He was just twenty-two. Needless to say, I am not feeling exceptionally creative right now. I ask for your patience.