Chapter 7: Toes
Pair: ArturTethys
NOTES: I don't really have a foot fetish, since my pinky toe looks kind of retarded and it's one of the few parts of me that I think is ugly. But, in a strange way, it seemed kind of right for Artur to have a foot fetish, what with all his subservient, bordering-on-maso behavior and disposition towards domme-ish chicks like Lute and Tethys. Go figure.
Also, this happens to be only the second het I've really written in my pseudo-"intelligent" era. (The last time was in the sixth grade, and I didn't know what the hell I was doing. You'd die if you saw it. I swear. It was MarySue-based-off-May-from-Pokemon paired with OOC British!Marth, with some FE3 character picked at complete random thrown in. If memory serves me it was Chainey, who wasn't all that cool anyway.)
Tethys spun her scarf about one last time, and asked the young monk watching her, "What do you think?"
"Wonderful, Miss Tethys," said Artur, "wonderful."
"Now let's see you try it," said the dancer. "Come on, up on your feet."
"D-Do I have to?!" stammered the monk as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him up.
"Step-two-three-four, step-two-three-four," she chanted. "Put your legs into it, Artur! Now twirl, and... there we go. You've got it."
Artur looked down, down at his plain white robes next to her graceful costume, and stopped moving. He wasn't the type to dance, at least not alongside such a woman as her. She was of a different world than he, and the world of chaste study collided with that of the floating superficiality of dance.
Feet met awkwardly with wooden stage, and the boy crashed facedown onto the ground. "Oww!"
"Artur! Oh, and you were doing so well, too." Tethys's hands were on her hips, and she stared down at Artur with disappointment.
"Um... I'm sorry. I'm just not in the mood for dancing today, Tethys." He dusted himself off and returned to his seat on the log.
"Hm. Well, if you're not going to dance with me, at least make yourself useful."
Artur looked up at Tethys. "I'm sure your feet must be tired."
"Excellent idea, Artur." She sat down on the grass in front of him and swung her feet onto his lap. "Get these old feet back into shape, then."
"Ah... all right..." he mumbled. He peeled off her silk dancer shoes and took a look at them. "Red seems to be your color, Tethys," he said with a chuckle, noting her choice of toenail polish. It matched her hair, her clothes, her scarf, her lipstick... it even made her autumn-leaf eyes look a more vibrant color.
"So I've been told. Could you pass me that towel over there?" she called, interrupting his thoughts. Upon its receipt, he wet it with his canteen and started cleaning between her toes.
"Dancers like you should take better care of their feet," said Artur. A miffed glance sent his way caused him to retrace his words. "I-I didn't mean to say they smelled bad, or were ugly or anything... I meant that you couldn't dance without them, so you should look after them."
"well, if you're suggesting such a thing, why don't you take on the task?"
Artur blushed. "You mean... be your personal foot-washer? I don't know about that..."
"Oh, come on. It's such a good idea. And you've certainly got a knack for it. If I can't make you be a dancer, then I'll just have to have you help me."
"Ahh... if you insist..." His protesting tone masked the fact that he knew, like the dancing he feigned clumsiness at, he would come to enjoy his new job.
