Warning: joke fic, attempt at humor, and little editing


Serah is Vanille's friend, and you're sometimes friends because of that. This means you're nice enough when you see each other without your mutual link, and you're under the pretense of good friends when Vanille does happen to be around.

That's why you're happy enough to talk to Serah like you really know her when Vanille's invited herself (and subsequently you for reasons that include being the only one with a car but not enough gas money for more than one trip) to Serah's house for a celebration of the end of summer.

You told her you'd rather grieve for it, but she just laughed, and Serah gave that little giggle you always hear from her.

But that's why you're stripped down to your swim suit, hanging on the edge of a pool and talking lazily about work with two girls who haven't seen a day of work in their lives.

"Do they really ever go to your manager?" Serah asks, resting with her hand on the edge of the pool opposite you. Her baby face's open with curiosity and disbelief, and her mouth makes an O when you just shrug.

"Sometimes, but food service gets shit like that all the time so Lebreau don't do much-"

"One time she almost got fired, though! Tell her about the woman with the wig, Fang." Vanille laughs and twirls in the water, arms coming up and then splashing down dangerously close to you. You turn away from her so the water don't get in your eyes, and she's right there on your arm when you turn back.

Vanille's got a fascination with customers that give you shit, and she hates when you shrug her off as nosy. She keeps on you until you give, but you're both smiling when you finally cave. You never don't cave, not for Vanille.

But you're not there yet so you jerk your head away from her with the workings of a smile and say, "Interrupting. Rude." Her cheeks puff up, and she's scowling. "You know it better than me by now anyway. You tell it." She hmphsand splashes you, and you sputter a bit and slid away from her, looking offended.

"Jesus, Serah do you see what I go through with her?" you say, pushing off the wall and away from Vanille. "Downright abusive, she is."

Vanille blows a raspberry behind you and rolls her eyes. "Whateverrrr." she huffs, all long and drawn out. "You know I'm the best you've ever had!" she smiles and laughs.

"Oh no, I don't think so. I bet you Serah'd treat me better. Bet you she wouldn't whine or nag or hit me or nothing." you say and then pause. "You know what, Serah you're my sister now. Forget Vanille." You smile at her and she laughs and goes a bit red. You swim toward her slowly, and you can hear Vanille's offended gasp, and you know she's coming after you without even looking.

The sliding glass door to the house opens, and a copy of Serah, years older, walks out and looks right at you.

You feel hands on your shoulders and then all you see is the blue of the water and the pink and white of Serah's suit, and suddenly all the air's gone from around you and you got nothing to breath.

When you come back up, you're sputtering for real, and you can't see for chlorine, but you can hear Vanille laughing, and that's enough for you to grab for her. She squeals when you snatch her by the suit, and you're still half blind when you say, "Dunk me, will you!" and throw yourself up on her shoulders.

She surfaces, all coughs and complaints, and you just smirk. "You just remember that next time." She just whines and laughs a little more, gliding to the wall to catch her breath.

By this time you've got your sight back and your memory too, and you look over to where Serah's—mom?—copy is, standing in just a towel. She's staring at the three of you, wet as you are, and Serah looks like she's trying to work out an introduction between her laughter.

"Friends?" the copy asks when Serah holds up one finger for a moment, and she just nods, still trying to catch her breath. Vanille is smiling, throwing Serah eyebrows like they've got some joke between the two of them, and that quiets Serah down quick enough. She colors a bit, probably from the laughter, and clears her throat.

"Ahem," she starts. "These are my friends Vanille and Fang." she says, looking up to her copy, who looks only vaguely interested, more watchful than intent. "Vanille, you know Lightning." Vanille nods and waves, something the copy returns. "But, uh, Fang, this is my sister, Lightning."

"Oh." you say, looking her up and down. You open your mouth again and ask, "So she ain't your mom?"

o

And that's how you meet Lightning Farron.

She's two years older than you, a junior in college, and she's got a career lined up in front of her with the military. She's also got a nice car and a family that can afford to slip her a bit of cash if she's running low, andshe's got two full scholarships so she don't even have to worry about tuition.

But as much as you get to feeling pangs of jealousy for what she's got, you don't think rich military girl with the big house when you think about her. No, when you hear the name Lightning Farron, all you can think is total babe.

You weren't wrong when you thought she was Serah with some years. She's got all of Serah's features with the definition that comes with being outta highschool. Sharp face, long lashes, toned everything, and that's not even counting her curves.

You may have been staring.

You may have been caught staring.

You try not to worry about that, though, because it only landed you a few too hard elbows from Vanille, and if Lightning or Serah could tell, they didn't let on. You're not sure, but you know without a doubt that you'll never see Lightning Farron again, so it's not a big deal even if everyone there fucking knew.

o

Lightning Farron reappears in your life exactly thirteen days later.

She strides into your workplace, impassive as you last saw her, with a gym bag under her arm, a sports uniform that reads Thunders, and sweat across her brow. You're not on cash register, and you're thankful for it because "Hi, welcome to Starbucks," isn't as suave an entrance as you need to recover from the way you're gaping now or the way you were gaping then.

Your mop and bucket aren't doing much for you either, though, so you shut your trap and scoot over into a corner just as soon as you realize you're staring—again.She hasn't even looked your way yet, and as the surprise at seeing her again fades, you get the sense to hope she won't, not with you like you are now.

She don't let it on if she has, but you're cautious anyway, pushing the mop particularly hard against a brown stain—oh god, you hope that's coffee—near the bathroom door and only stealing quick glances toward the register every few seconds.

She's brief, quick, and she doesn't make small talk aside from a comment about the weather until her order's come back: a large coffee, black. Something figures about that, military tough and all, and you watch as she turns and think to yourself, oh no, there she goes.

Despite your nametag and your apron and your black slacks, there's a part of you that wants nothing more than for her to see you and stop for a chat, see you and want to give you the time of day. That same part of you is also responsible for making you imagine her naked and writhing, and that gives you pause.

Besides, you know it's probably best not to talk to her anyway. No telling why she's over in your store, but it's probably some one-time thing anyway, so, this time for real, you won't have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of Serah's hot older sister ever again because you won't see her ever again.

Except she doesn't go. She takes the seat closest to the door, and begins sipping on her coffee like it isn't hot like the sun, and you think, oh no, now I have to talk to her.

And maybe you don't haveto talk to her, but she's got a large coffee and there's no way the two of you could ever not notice each other while she drinks the whole damn thing. And if you notice each but don't say anything, she's gonna think you're the biggest pussy to ever exist. Never mind you still got that part of you nagging to either talk to her or strip her.

So you mop at the stain a few more times, look over your shoulder twice more, and when you think you've got a good enough opener, you take a deep breath and walk over to her, your mop and bucket left over by the brown stain in the corner.

"So," you say, and she looks up, alert at once and graceful enough not to spew that mouthful of coffee all over the table for you to clean up. "Didn't think I'd see you again so quick." Or ever, really. "What're you doing around here?"

She swallows, pauses, and then really looks at you, eyes up and down until she's stuck on your face. "Oh." She says, "You're Serah's friend. Fang, right?"

You're off to a good start if she remembers you, and you smile for it. No reason you can't be funny and score some points with her even if you are at work. Yeah, you got this. "Got a knock to the head since I last saw ya?" you ask because how could anyone forget your gorgeous face so soon? "Dangers of playing…" Shit wait, what did she play again?

"Soccer." she tells helpfully you when you stall for just a second too long. Oh. That's right. One of her scholarships was for sports, soccer specifically. "And no—you just look different without the bathing suit." She takes another long sip of coffee.

You grin and tell her, "I recognized you without the towel."

She laughs at that, quiet, low, and then smiles. She doesn't even look at you when she says, "I wasn't looking as hard."

Suddenly you're eleven and your best friend has just found out you still play house with Vanille. There's a moment of oh god and then one of oh no where your face turns redder than hell and you feel your guts knot with embarrassment.

Lightning Farron saw you staring, and she just called you out on it, and suddenly all you want to do is go crawl in the ground somewhere.

For her part, she looks pleased as can be, eyes closed, smile intact, and sipping like she didn't just carve up your pride and serve it back to you in little pieces.

You shouldn't be so embarrassed. You shouldn't fucking care if she saw because when have you ever cared about something like this? But there you are, red in the face and frozen right to the spot, and you are so fucking embarrassed.

She doesn't even need to look to know you're floundering. "I, uh," you try, but you're not sure what you should say to make this any better. "Haha, yeah I guess." You spout whatever comes to mind and she just laughs a little. She's just delighted.

"Right. Anyway, Fang," she says, and there's something mighty intimidating in the way she's looking at you now, smiling at you now. Your heart starts up like there's gonna be another attack, but she just rises from her seat, smooth as silk, and says, "It was nice talking to you, but I should get going."

You take a step back so she can walk by you, but she stops before the door and turns to look over her shoulder at you. "I'll see you Tuesday after practice." And then she walks out the door before you figure out what that means or even how to talk. You watch her pull out of the parking lot, and behind you, you hear Gadot whistle and call, "Talk about crash and burn!"

He doesn't even know the half of it.

o

Vanille's on the living room floor with a science book spread out in front of her, a pencil hanging from her teeth, and her cell phone held just above the text when you come home and fall face first into the sofa. She knows that's her cue to come over, and you hear her stop typing away after a second, and then you hear footsteps She climbs on top of you, laid right over you, and asks what's wrong.

You tell her, "Work." but it's all muffled into the cigarette burned cushions so it comes out like worf. She hums, arms folded across your shoulder blades, and then you feel her chin press into the base of your neck.

"That all?" she asks because you can't get nothing past her keen nose for gossip. Sometimes you got the feeling more than sisterly love is at work when she wants to know how your day went, but then you remember you'd be nursing your wounded pride with a tub of ice cream and a marathon of The Walking Dead if she weren't here, so you wiggle and swat at where you can reach her so she'll get off you.

When she does, you turn over so you're face up instead—and damn, you're like one of them psyche-ward patients, and Vanille's your doctor who you're gonna spill all your dirty little secrets to—and she lays her head on your stomach and rubs your upper arm a bit, and goddammit, you feel a little better for it. About as better as you can feel about being such a dumbass anyway.

You sigh deep and tell her about it, and she laughs a bit but mostly keeps it to herself, and you're thankful for that you guess. And when you're done, she just smiles at you and tells you not to worry too much about what Lightning Farron thinks because Lightning Farron is just Serah's older sister and what does she matter anyway.

"She doesn't," you agree, but that doesn't help that she's a total babe and you are continuously making yourself look worse and worse in her eyes. Probably keep doing it too, if she's actually coming back on Tuesday.

"So what's it matter?" she asks happily, and you know she finds the whole thing a little silly, but you're not quite to that point yet because you still get a little red thinking about it so you tell her, "I dunno," Nothing but sarcasm in your tone. "She's hot."

Vanille stops rubbing your arm at that, and suddenly she's looking at you funny and you can't tell if she's shocked or horrified. And then all you can think is, oh no, now Serah's gonna know because there's scant any secrets between the two of them even when it comes to you.

If Serah knows then Lightning might hear, and how is it even possible to make such a series of bad first impressions, Jesus Christ.

So you tack on quick, "And Serah is not allowed to know that, you hear me?" and try not to sound so thoroughly exhausted from all the embarrassment. God, you feel like your ten again, hiding your crushes because no one's allowed to find out.

Vanille squints a bit and then gets this real thoughtful expression. "So…" she asks, carefully. "Do you like Lightning? Like, like like her or just—" You push yourself up onto your elbows and cover her mouth before she can finish, somehow going red again for it.

"No." you say firmly, and her expression softens some. "I met her twice, jeez." You drop your hand away from her mouth, sigh, and fall back onto the couch. "Just can't believe how fucking stupid I sound is all." And you couldn't be any more truthful.

She looks pleased enough by that, but you can't figure out why. "Good!" she announces. "Those don't last anyway! Relationships that really do are with people you've known a while. Closer to you." She grins far too broadly.

You let out a breath of disbelief. "And when'd you become the expert?" you ask, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same. "Last time I checked you were still riding the single train."

She puffs up like she does when you make a jab at her. "Hey!" she says, slapping you lightly, and you don't even pretend it hurts for once. "You are mean!"

You just laugh a little and goddammit okay so this was all kind of silly, and you guess it doesn't fucking matter whether you're choking in front of Lightning Farron. Not like anything's ever going to happen anyway. She's probably not even gay.

Yeah, you think, smiling at Vanille, it's not like you're ruining your chances at anything because there are no chances.

Lightning Farron isn't even gay.

o

You find out thirteen days later that Lightning Farron is very gay.

You're at Serah's to prove a point: you don't give a shit what Lightning Farron thinks of you. And you're doing pretty good too—least until you catch snippets of Serah and Vanille's conversation.

You're laid out across the sofa with the papers for a second job (librarian—Serah was thrilled to hear it was close to her and Vanille's highschool), and Vanille and Serah are spread across the floor, Vanille dolling up Serah like she's trying to impress.

Serah keeps trying to pull you into the conversation, but your application's got your full attention until you hear the words Lightning and girlfriend in the same sentence. You perk up immediately.

"What?" you ask, and both of them look over at you a little surprised.

Vanille repeats your question back to you, and you ask, a little quick, "What did you just say?"

Vanille's messing with you, you're sure, because she asks, "About what?"

Oh, and ain't that a problem. Now you got two choices: drop the conversation and pretend it never happened or let them both know you're mighty interested in Serah's sister. And you're not sneaky like Vanille; you don't know how to twist things around so no one's the wiser to what you're really asking. All you got in you in bluntness and bravado, and neither's really gonna help you now.

So you swallow and figure why just bite the bullet when you can swallow it whole? "About Lightning?"

They both look at you like they're trying to figure out why you'd care to know, and then Vanille's face twists so you have to wonder if you just took a shotgun round to the back of the throat.

She looks over at Serah, but Serah's already decided it doesn't matter much and smiles at you and says, "Her ex-girlfriend came over the other day. It was incredibly awkward for everyone involved!" then she laughs a bit, and you kind of smile and laugh too because Lightning Farron has an ex-girlfriend.

Lightning Farron has an ex-girlfriend.

Lightning Farron is gay.

o

Somehow you're not so nervous when Tuesday next rolls around. You demanded to be up front right around when it started getting dark, and you may have even tried a little harder with your make-up so you'd be ready when she walks in.

Your mood goes to shit quick because you're impatient, and because no one ever fucking knows what they want when they come in or either they've got an order a mile long. People will never not piss you off so long as you still work in this fucking coffee house.

But around quarter 'til seven she walks in, shin guards and all, and suddenly you're less aggravated with the guy trying to tell you he wants something caffeinated but not too caffeinated and more interested with what you can see of Lightning over his shoulder.

You offer him a few choices, but you're not really listening to yourself or him so when he finally makes up his mind you have to ask him what he ordered twice. And then you have to wait, pretending to smile at him, while it gets fixed up and all the while you're going over what you're going to say in your head even though all you can really think is: gay, gay, gay.

When he's got his not too much, not too little caffeine fix, he walks and away and she steps up to the counter, and you say, "Hi, welcome to Starbucks." You are not the least bit embarrassed or nervous.

She doesn't smile back at you, just tells you what her order is: one large coffee, black. You send it off and then you're ready for small-talk.

"So who do you play for? Your school, right?" you ask, and you're nonchalant, but she's even more so. You wonder if she's ever gotten nervous or scared or anything with how controlled she always looks.

"Yes, but that's not who I'm with right now. I play in a recreational league too." She tells you, and you don't say anything because you're trying to figure out exactly how much of her day gets eaten up by college and the military and soccer and more soccer. "And before you ask, I play center-mid."

"Oh." You say because your knowledge of soccer is about as extensive as your knowledge of college or the military, which is to say you know absolutely nothing about soccer. "I wasn't going to, but good to know I guess." You shrug, and it's easy. "Guess you get asked that a lot?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "All the time." You imagine nearly every conversation anyone's started with her has gone along the lines of you play college soccer and what's your position.

You just smile, and Yuj comes with her coffee and sets it in front of her. You ramble off the amount due, and while she fishes for change in her gym bag, you say, "That's what happens when you get scholarships for sports."

She comes out with a fistful of coins and a few dollars, but she holds them so she can look at you. "And how'd you know that?"

Oh. That's right. She didn't say anything about scholarships, but you just kind of smile and say, "Your sister talks about you enough." And you guess that's true because most of what you know about Lightning comes from Vanille, and most of what Vanille knows about Lightning comes from Serah.

Lightning's expression freezes, and then she gets this little smile, just faint enough to be endearing, and you wonder why you were ever intimidated by it to begin with. She hands over the money, and you're smiling big, and she takes her coffee, and then you say goodbye to each other and Lightning Farron heads right out the door.

Nothing fancy, nothing that screams you'll be anything more than acquaintances, but for the first time since meeting her, you haven't made a fool of yourself in front of Lightning Farron.

You are overjoyed.

o

You keep this up for five weeks with Lightning in the shop. You've talked about her school and her sports and her military career, and you've talked about your jobs and your sister and all your responsibilities (and more than a few drunk stories between the both of you), and it surprises you every time that Lightning Farron's not untouchable. She's smoking hot with everything going right for her, but you can talk to her same as you can talk to anyone else.

But of course, you don't always get the chance because you got to work in the back or someone else's got her at the register, but you at least catch her eye when you can't talk and give her a wink before she can march out the door.

Because she doesn't stay to drink much, but once or twice she sits herself down by the door and sips like the world's on hold for her. And you get the urge to go and sit with her, call your break early and order something up for yourself, but you can never come up with any good reason before she heads out the door. And really, you only talk to her when she comes for caffeine, so you don't think there's even a good enough reason at all to let you sit and chat.

So when you come in her house smelling like sweat and lawn clippings, peeling off your sweater and dropping it in a heap on the bar, and you see her sitting in the other room, Advanced Chemistry open in her lap, you nearly shit yourself trying to get over there too.

You close the sliding glass door behind you, give one look to the stairs where you can hear Serah and Vanille's excited voices, and then head for the couch, dropping down next to her like she isn't studying and you aren't filthy.

"Well, well, well," you say, smiling big. You look her up and down, and she's as casual as can be, pajamas and everything. "Didn't think you ever dropped by here anymore. Your school close down or something?"

She doesn't stop scanning the page, eyes going line by line quick and steady, and she doesn't even look up at you when she says, "You could use a shower."

Your smile falters a second because okay maybe you're a little sweaty, but then you're telling her, "Says the girl who leaves sweat stains in the seats! Customers won't even sit at that table anymore!"

That gets her to smile, and she reaches the bottom of the page and then closes it on her thumb, marking it for later. She ignores your jab and asks, "Is there a reason you were mowing my backyard in the first place? Serah had that job, I thought."

And she thought right, but when you showed up, Serah had also just gotten her Homecoming dress, and she was going to show you both 'right after she finished the backyard'. You'd been more than happy to take that off her hands and let her and Vanille go do their thing even despite the look she was giving you.

But someone must have had a peek at you out in the yard to know it was you out there, and the thought that she might have been staring makes your smile widen and stomach knot. "It was either this or dress duty." You explain, and she just says ah like she's been there hundreds of times.

"Serah seemed disappointed." She says, but from her tone you get the feeling that she doesn't blame you in the least, even if that is her sister. "Take a shower and get up there. She'll want you to at least see her in it."

You don't even hear the part about Serah for all your surprise. "What," you ask, "Shower here?"

"Where else?" she asks. "It's the second door on the right. Towels are in there. Go get cleaned off." Then she opens her book and turns the page, picking up where she left off.

Your reaction's immediate. You laugh and say, "Might need some help with that last part." You waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

She smiles but doesn't look up. "Busy. Next time maybe."

Your grin is ridiculous.

You elbow her in the side lightly and say, "I'll hold you to that." She just rolls her eyes, and you stand up, stretch, and then head for the hall, practically skipping for happiness at just having traded an innuendo with Lightning Farron.

Your life is officially perfect.

o

Your life is officially over.

The shitstorm blindsides you on a Friday afternoon in the library between the Geography and History sections and comes in the form of a question from Serah Farron: would you go on a date with me? You choke and nearly drop the book on New Zealand you're shelving.

You never saw it coming-but now that you think about it, you should have.

You realize with increasing dread that Serah Farron has only ever given you the kind of eyes you've given her sister. You realize Serah Farron has only ever tried strived for your attention like you've strived for her sister's. You realize Serah Farron wants you like you want her sister, and you realize how utterly fucked this makes you.

And Serah Farron is still waiting for an answer even when you realize all of this and then go back through it all again just to be sure you understand exactly what level of fucked you are. By your calculations, you are approximately a prostitute pulling double duty.

And knowing all of this does absolutely nothing for you because Serah Farron is still rocking back and forth on the balls of her heels, hands behind her back, lip between her teeth, and Serah Farron is still waiting for you to do something other than stare blankly at her.

So you do the only thing you can do: "Uh… What?"

She lets out this little breath that's all nervous energy, and then she repeats, "I'd really like to go on a date with you, Fang." It sounds no less damning the second time.

But there it is. You've heard it twice, and there's no getting away from it now. You try to think of something to say to her, some way to break it easy that she's not the one you want, but all you can think is how dressed up she looks, how Vanille must have helped her with her curls and makeup, and that doesn't help you at all.

"Serah, I don't…" You freeze up, but she's already understood what you're saying and is tensing up, mouth falling into an open mouthed frown. "You're just not the girl for me. I, uh, sorry…"

Serah is quick to make like she isn't as upset as she is, and her frown disappears behind a shaky smile and laugh. Her shoulders sag, but she tells you, "No, haha, no it's fine. I just thought I'd finally, I don't know, just get that off my chest." Then she says, "Well! I, uh, I should probably… go." She turns. "So I guess I'll see you later, Fang."

You kind of wave at her and choke, "Yeah."

Your sister is her best friend and her sister is the girl you want to date and between the two of them, your life is officially over.

o

Your life is still officially over when Monday rolls around, and you're stuck at the front desk of the library, head on the desk and full of nothing at all. You've talked it out over and over with Vanille the past weekend (and found out she's been dropping hints for months and known even longer than that), and now all you've got left is exhaustion at the whole thing.

Vanille knows about Lightning and Serah and the whole damn thing and how messed up it is, but she said Serah'd get over it 'eventually', and that she didn't think Lightning would hold it against you even if "as Serah's best friend, she should be telling you absolutely no that's not okay to still be worried about trying to hook up with Lightning".

But you pretty much know Lightning has this thing with her sister, and you know that means she's only ever going to see you as the girl who broke her sister's heart (which is ridiculous considering you and Serah were still only sometimes friends when she decided she was going to ruin your life forever).

And really, you can't help but blame Serah for all of this even though she really didn't do nothing for spite or meanness. Girl just thought you'd want to get it on with her even though her sister's right there, hot as can be. Not her fault, you know, but it's hard to make that connect with how you feel.

And it just ain't fair to you or anyone that things had to turn out like they did. All the progress you made with Lightning's been wiped away and now you're probably going to have to keep away from Serah so she can let her feelings settle. You just lost two Farrons at the same time, and it isn't fair.

You turn your head so you can breathe and let out a long sigh, downright melodramatic, but you can't find it in you to be disgusted with yourself just yet because everything's fresh and raw still.

You know you'll get back on track soon—you don't stew—but until then you've decided: no more Farrons.

That's that then. No more Farrons until you stop feeling so damn burnt out from the whole thing. Until then, you gotta focus on you. So you stretch, hands grasping at open air over the edge of your desk, and then you push yourself up and shake the stiffness out of your shoulders and back, resolved to stop being so damn mopey about the whole thing.

The first few moments of your new no Farron policy start with seeing Lightning Farron walk through the front doors of the library.

It's the first time you've seen Lightning in plain clothes, and if it weren't for her hair you might not have recognized her. And for all that this should be raising red flags in your head, the only thing you can even think is, oh no, she's hot.

By the time you stop looking her up and down and make eye contact, you get the sense to turn and look to your computer like you're doing actually doing something. You pray she's here for some book on Aristotle or whatever the hell she studies at school. You know she's not.

"Hello," she says, and there's impending doom in the innocence of her greeting. You start prepping for what she's got for you even if she looks just as calm as ever. She could have crazy murder on the brain, but you'd never know.

"Hey," you start, more than a little unsure. "Don't suppose your team's started practicing around here now, has it?" You try to sound more hopeful than you feel.

"No," she says, right to the point.

You try again. "Not here for a book either, huh?"

She shakes her head and says, "Let's talk." She nods toward the book shelves, and you know she's asking for privacy. "Sure," you sigh, and you find it hard to be thankful she's going to chew you out in private like you are. You really didn't want to do this with her, but it was too good to think you weren't going to get nothing from her.

You stand up because now all you want is to get this over with quick, and you lead her right back to the corner of the library. You settle against the wall, arms across your chest, and you're ready to block out whatever she's got to say before she even starts. "What's up?" you ask even though you both damn well know what's up.

She doesn't jump you like you expect, though. She's still just as calm as can be, and when she speaks, she not even accusing, "I heard you and Serah talked." She goes right to the point, though, and you sigh for it.

"Yeah." You say. "She wanted a date. Wasn't interested." When she doesn't say anything to that, you arch a brow. Nothing to that? You ask, "How'd she take it?" You hardly care, but you're just ready to hear all the things Lightning's got to say to you, and you know that'll help her to it.

Lightning looks at you hard for a moment and then says, "Pretty bad." You sigh again and imagine how bad pretty bad is. "As her sister, I'm really supposed to hate you for that."

Ugh, and there it is. You knew that was coming, maybe not so nicely wrapped like it was, but there was no way this wasn't ending with Lightning telling you that you're never going to bang ever.

But then she smiles.

"But," she says, and suddenly she is stepping closer to you, and you tense up, flinching away from her when she stops right in front of you. You've never seen her any more intimidating than she is with that smile, and your breath stutters. "But if you were to make up with her, I don't think I'd have that obligation anymore." She is right in your face now, and you are somewhere between terrified and confused.

You are backed against the wall with Lightning Farron's hands on your hip and your shoulder, and you aren't even sure what to do with yourself when she leans in and goes right for your ear, lips near brushing against it as she whispers, "Because I really don't want to hate you."

And then you are nothing but flushed and hot, and suddenly you understand nothing about what's happening except that Lightning wants you like you want her, and as soon as you realize this, your first thought is to pull her toward you, bury your face in her neck, her hair. All you want to do is find out what breaks her calm, and figure out how to do it over and over and over and over again.

But Lightning doesn't give you the chance.

As soon as you let out that breath you've been holding and go for her hips with your hands, she steps away from you and turns to go. You are so stunned that you can only watch as she saunters away and calls after her, "So hurry up and make nice." She turns the corner, and you feel like you could crumple onto the floor.

You do a few seconds later.

You've got about five seconds to think about how you've lost all control of your life before you forget all about that and think of all the things that could have just happened. You could have kissed her. She could have fucked you.

The thought of her holding you up against the wall, her fingers pressing between your legs, and her lips right at your ear is more than you handle. The thought of the marks you'd have to leave to keep quiet is even more so.

You dig for your phone and dial for Serah, fumbling with the buttons for all that your fingers are shaking.

o

o

o

The air's gotten cold. Frost's at the corners of every window, and some mornings there's snow in small patches everywhere. Winter's upon you, no doubt about it, but despite the way the time flies, you and Lightning are still only friends.

That doesn't stop her from sliding against your thighs, the inside of hers rubbing against the outside of yours, or digging her fingers into your shoulders, nails against your bare skin. Doesn't stop you from getting friendly with her ass, one cheek in each hand, or getting even friendlier with her mouth, lips and tongue both, either.

Her dorm's big—she's got more space between her and two other girls than you did growing up and more than enough space on her bed for the both of you—and most importantly, it's empty. You got the place to yourself, and you plan to keep kissing her like it's all you've ever wanted to do to her, especially since she's kissing you like it's all she's ever wanted to do to you.

And if there's punishment for doing all this while Serah's none the wiser, well, you guess the best you can hope for is to plead insanity and hope they stay your sentence. After all, it wasn't your fault you fell in love with Serah's sister.


The joke is actually that this is a response to a prompt asking for a Stacy's Mom fic.

The other joke is this: as November is National Novel Writing Month and I've no delusions of being able to get out 50,000 words, I'll instead be focusing on getting some kind of story up every week. It may not be a novel, but I think I could use a break from trying to achieve perfection for a bit. Updates will happen on weekends most likely. No idea if this will work, but I'll try.