Title: Talk the Talk
Prompt: small talk (from fuzzyblankets)
Rating: T
Words: 2436
Commentary: This one is literally hot off the presses! After not updating Sunday, I figured I had to get this one in. This one's a three parter, all within the same night. The concept of this was fun to write. And Hope's in this one, too. Teehee. Well, I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!


1. STRAIGHT TALK

"Not your best colour," she told him.

He piqued an eyebrow at her as she came to stand behind him and frame them both in the mirror. "What's your opinion then, oh fashion-enlightened one?" he asked her.

Serah tip-toed, reached both arms over his shoulders and presented two different ties.

They had been invited to a formal dinner by Hope tonight. As rogue time travellers finding the graviton cores necessary to levitate the new world, they had attracted quite a lot of attention. Hope decided that now was as good a time as any to introduce them to the world and assure the public of "the legitimacy of your actions". Like you needed a reason other than avoiding imminent doom than to protect a planet.

Around Noel's neck was a white tie. Against the white of his dress shirt, it just wasn't doing it for her. In her hands she held a black tie and a deep blue tie. She held them up to dangle alongside his cheeks and over his shoulders.

He inched his eyebrows higher. He didn't bother to say what he was thinking.

Serah already knew what he was thinking. "It's a process. I need to see what would look best with the suit and with you," she explained. As she said this, she allowed her eyes to roam over him in his suit.

The suit had been provided by the Academy (surprise, surprise). One evening last week, when they'd visited Hope at the Academy headquarters, he'd sprung a tailor on them both. If this was a televised, formal dinner, they would definitely need to be wearing more impressive attire than what they always wore. Noel had crossed his arms - what did that mean? - to Hope's sure-sounding chuckle. That was when Serah explained formal events, dresses and suits, how these were gatherings of importance, when you saw people from the upper echelons of society and dressed your best to impress.

"You always look beautiful," he stated baldly, which had her blushing quick. Darting her gaze to Hope - who was smirking - and back to Noel, she accused him of flattery.

"Nope. You always do," he told her again, his gaze steady on her face.

Remembering this, her mouth quirked up at a corner.

Noel saw her from over his shoulder, reflected in the mirror still. "What's funny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She took a moment to assess the ties once more. The black was more formal, a classic match for the black suit and white shirt. But the blue was gorgeous, and now she saw that it brought out his eyes maliciously well. Noel was not the average guy, anyway. Blue it was. She laid it over his shoulder and whisked away the white tie.

His fingers came up to pull the blue tie from his shoulder. He eyed it like it was a puzzle.

After returning the ties to their places, she strode back over to him. "Here," she said, holding her arms out. She took the tie in both hands and looped it around his neck. Cross, under, over, up and around...

She tied it perfectly on her first try. Not bad. When she finished, adjusting the dimple at the tie's junction, Noel put his hands on her waist. He must have been nervous, because he wasn't the type to fish for compliments. "How do I look?"

Not looking up at him yet, she buttoned his suit jacket. She smoothed her hands over his chest. He looked very, very good. Despite never having worn one before, he could sure wear a suit.

She looked him in the eye. "Very handsome," she answered.

Noel's mouth seemed to shift to form a few different shapes before settling on a smile. He blew air out his nose amusedly, as if his looks were a joke. Then he looked down at her before him, clad in a column of black and white ending with a pair of shoes that could only be described as ankle-breakers. "You look beautiful," he told her.

She balanced her forearms on his shoulders. She leant into him. The shoes really helped bring her closer to his eye level. "Flatterer," she whispered.

He leant into her, too. Then he pressed his lips to hers. "Nope," he said, voice so sure as she recovered from his kiss, "You always look beautiful."


2. SMALL TALK

If she were ever to work for the Academy, she definitely wasn't applying to the Public Relations Department. The woman briefing them seemed more stressed than even Hope ever did.

The PR lady paced back and forth across the hallway. "The press is invited for only the first two hours of the event and will be escorted out after the speech Director Estheim gives. This is when he will introduce you with your pre-approved profiles - I trust you have read these over?"

They both barely had time to nod before she started again.

"He will give you both a clear lead-in. That is when you stand, approach the platform, andpleaseGodI'mbeggingyou, don't trip up the stairs. Then you each stand behind the podium and make your statements about your investment in the future and your absolute belief in the Academy. Miss Farron first, Mister Kreiss last. While you are standing at the podium, do not look into the lights. Do not speak too quickly. Do not fidget with your garments or hair. Is all of this clear, before we head in?"

Noel gave her a solid yes and Serah chirped her agreement.

"Good," the woman said, seeming to exhale all the air in her lungs out at once. Then, jerking her head toward the door, she walked into the ballroom.

Noel gave Serah an alluring smile. "Ready, Miss Farron?"

She bit her lip. Then she steeled herself. "Ready."

He pressed a light kiss to her temple. She grabbed his hand, squeezed, and let go in a heartbeat. They began to walk in together.

She could feel the scrutiny the second they entered. Cameramen and photographers lurked from behind their equipment all along the edges of the high-ceilinged room. Affluent older men and women turned to them, raking eyes quickly over their forms. Even some of the young Academy employees they knew fake whistled or hooted. One such employee walked over to them, fast.

"Whoa, you guys clean up good," a short blond by the name of Tino commented. He hit Noel in the shoulder - one, two - and shook Serah's hand with both of his.

"This guy's a moron," insisted another employee sauntering over. Serah saw a bit of swagger, obvious confidence from his easy good looks. He delivered as she expected - "He means to say that you look incredible," he told her, pumping her hand a bit too long. "Gareth," he said, smiling.

"Serah," she supplied. "This is Noel," she introduced fast, pulling her hand away in order to gesture at Noel.

"What's up, man," Gareth said, markedly less enthusiastic.

Noel smiled all the same. "Hey."

"Noel, Serah," Hope's voice came from beyond the little huddle, beckoning.

"Excuse us," Noel said lowly, extricating himself from the circle to start in Hope's direction. He took Serah's hand almost by reflex, and she closed her fingers around his instinctively.

Hope watched them approach with a growing smile on his face. It was then that Serah was reminded of Hope's earlier smirk, and she dropped Noel's hand, face heating up.

"Serah, Noel, these are the mayors of the municipalities lying just outside of Academia, Gwendolyn Strong and Derrick Jun," Hope said amicably. Serah noticed for the first time that Hope was clad in his Academy uniform, as ever, but without the weaponry. He'd taken off his gloves as well.

She smiled and shook hands with both strangers, as did Noel. "I did some reading - you both won your campaigns with landslide votes," she said.

They were both sufficiently buttered up from the looks on their faces. "How impressive," Gwendolyn crooned, "For a time traveller to know so."

"I try," she said, to much laughter.

"The reforms you implemented recently were impressive as well, Mr. Jun," Noel said suddenly.

Serah looked to Noel. Her jaw nearly dropped. She'd always thought him the type to avoid small talk, but she appeared to be wrong. As they bantered back and forth, she saw him easing into the conversation. Hope looked on, also surprised but pleased.

She wanted to take Noel's hand, run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to tell him that he was amazing for diving right into this unfamiliar world and that she loved him for it. He continued to astound her, always.

Hope began to speak to the mayors, and Noel turned back to her. He gave her a wink. She had to smile.


3. DIRTY TALK

After their speeches and what sounded like enthusiastic applause, the major press outlets were escorted out. Their PR agent for the night approached their table at a fast clip. Her heels had her tottering across the hardwood floor and her behind jerking from side to side in a way that reminded Serah (guiltily) of an ostrich.

"Okay, Serah, Noel, the media giants have left, but I want you both to be wary of private reporters that could be hanging around," she told them, gaze lighting between them. Her eyebrows were severe, as was the downturn of her lips. "Watch your actions, alright? Good job on your speeches earlier," she signed off, giving the backs of their chairs emphatic pats, then ran back through the crowd, clipboard close to her chest. Serah watched her retreat, and again thought that she herself could never go into Public Relations.

Noel mirrored her thoughts, saying, "She seems pretty stressed for this being such a nice night."

Serah turned to him, eyes landing first on his deep blue tie and following the silk up to his chin, his smile, the point of his nose and finally, his ever-blue eyes.

Strange enough, she realized he was right. Even though it was far removed from the rhythm of their days, there was an energy to this night that had lit them both up. Instead of exhausting them both like she expected, it invigorated them. "It is nice, isn't it?" she murmured.

He blinked, breath catching at her comment. She blinked right back. She could see that he was resisting the urge to kiss her. So she smiled a bit wider, letting some impishness curve her lips, too.

You want to kiss me and it's not going to happen, her smirk said.

Noel's gaze turned mildly cutting, but he piqued an eyebrow. You wicked girl.

She flashed her teeth at him, then turned back to the table fully. She picked up her fork - she had stopped in the middle of her slice of mousse-

And she dropped the fork again, barely managing to contain the clatter it made against her plate, because at that moment, Noel's hand landed on her knee beneath the table. She jerked her gaze over to him, intending to ask what he was doing, but was met with only his unconcerned profile. She saw that he was talking to another man at their table, nodding occasionally and making one or two word comments.

She had just picked up her fork again when his hand shifted. She felt his fingers pry past the layers of dress surrounding her legs. Soon enough, she was shakily forking dessert into her mouth as his fingers met with her bare skin. And he was still talking to that random patron like nothing else was going on.

Beneath the tablecloth, his fingers travelled up the inside of her thigh. Her throat was gradually drying itself out, so she took frequent sips of water from her glass. Her eyes darted all over the room, just waiting for them to be caught. But she couldn't - just couldn't - tell him to stop. His fingers inched up agonizingly slowly, punishing her. She sat very, very still. She finished her mousse and licked her lips, feeling the burning trail left in the wake of his fingers.

You are mine.

The stranger Noel was talking to bid him goodbye and Noel returned it normally enough. It was then that his gaze settled briefly on hers. He had his own glass in hand, and keeping his eyes locked on her, took a sip of his water and gulped it down, Adam's apple bobbing.

She wanted to shift so, so badly in her seat. But all she could do was watch Noel lean closer to her and feel his fingers move beneath her dress and to the edge of her panties.

"I want you," he said into her ear.

She felt tingles shoot up her spine and her hands grow slick with sweat. She tried to think of something quick and witty, but all she could think was that his breath was moving past her bare shoulder and his hair was tickling her neck and his hand was gripping her thigh possessively.

His other hand rose to brush through the curls of her hair - surely everyone could see - but on he went, whispering words into her ear. His voice was positively sultry. "Any chance I could have you?"

Her breath, held up until now, came gushing out involuntarily. She stared at the handle of her spoon. Not trusting her voice, she nodded once.

She could practically feel his smile against her skin. "I'll be waiting," he told her. The tablecloth rustled as he pulled away, standing. After a few handshakes and waves, he was walking across the marble floors and disappearing up the elevators.

After letting her breathing settle again, Serah cast a furtive glance across the whole of the room. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. She adjusted her dress and stood, feeling shaky in her high heels. She continued though, pushing her chair back into place, smiling and nodding at the occupants of the table she was now vacating. She began to stride across the floor, trying not to follow the exact path Noel had carved through the crowd.

Just then, her instincts told her she was being watched. She whipped her gaze over her shoulder.

Through the shining jewellery and flowing dresses and starched suits, Hope was staring right at her. And he was grinning. There was never really any doubt in his mind, was there?

So she did the only thing she knew to do. She stuck her tongue out at him, then hurried up to the man waiting for her.