Title: Euphoria.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Leon/Naomi.
Notes: oO; I wrote this a while ago. When I first had the concept of my little Leon deathfic in mind. It's pretty crappy for that reason.
Semi-cuteness. Semi-sap. Blah blah blah. I. AM. TIRED. Jeeez. It's three in the morning! What compelled me to post thiiiiiiis?! X_o;
- - - -
"Leon." She prodded gently at the side of his stomach; something relatively easy to do, as he was reclining upon his back on the metallic roofing of the compound, and had been that way since they had clambered up hours ago. She prodded again, more demandingly, almost as though begging for his attention like a child.
"Naomi." He responded and removed a hand from behind his head to poke, in return, at her. She began to grin faintly.
"Leon." She prodded once more, leaning her weight upon her free hand, pressing towards him to find some place -- any place -- he could possibly be ticklish, or sensitive at. He didn't even flinch.
"Naomi." Though, he was starting to mimic her grin. He poked once more, eyes dancing between the various gleaming constellations in the sky, pausing upon the duo of moons.
"Leon." She continued prodding away, reaching over his stomach, inching towards his upper body. Not one movement. She began growing frustrated and silently pouted to herself.
"Naomi." He, having already tickled her lifelessly earlier that day, after they had defeated a class 'A' team, poked her just between the starting of her ribs and her stomach. She yelped and jerked back, though only soon to recoil, eying him dangerously. He grinned toothily at her.
"Leo--" She reached around, nearly leaning over him completely now, and began poking up and down his arm. Only after her fingertips brushed randomly at the area just above his elbow. He jerked away from her swiftly and took her hand along with it.
"Not there!" He just about wailed and flipped onto his side, revealing the ticklish area even more, as he pulled her towards him. She collapsed against the rooftop and curled back against him. He mumbled something indistinctive about ticklish spots and, with one arm around her, rubbed at his elbow carefully.
"Why not?" She, still grinning away, defiantly reached around to finger about for his elbow. He wrapped his arms tighter about her upper body, securing her arms in place, holding her snugly. She laughed and folded her arms horizontally over his own, clasping her fingers around his.
"Why do you think?" He leant his chin against the top of her head and huffed quietly. His grip upon her loosened to a comfortable, loose hug, and her grin widened.
"I don't know.." She trailed off idly and looked down. Before he could react, she unlatched an arm to reach around, tickling and brushing playfully at the spot. "Is this why?"
"Yes!" He cried in between what could be described as horribly stifled chuckles. He pulled his arm away and tucked it between the both of them, folding it against his body so she wouldn't be able to find it without severe discomfort. "Humph."
"Oh." She concluded innocently and inclined her head further, lacing her fingers amongst the hand left behind. He, rather wearily, looked down at her, watching carefully as she uncurled his fingers, pulling his hand so that the palm was left revealed. She traced the fingers on her opposite hand about the worn lines of his palm.
He was comfortable and felt utterly relaxed. A day before, he would've scowled at the thought of being in such a position. The team they had gone against was second in line with his original team, the Blitz Team, when it came to being bests. Soon, they would go up against the Blitz and -- well, the future was undetermined. Win, he silently hoped.
"Have ya' ever thought about going back?" She inquired tiredly as she tapped a specific area on his hand. His fingers curled inward, through simple reflex and he briefly wondered if, by chance, he was ticklish there, as well.
"Not really. I'm fine here."
"Of course." She agreed and prodded at that spot once or twice more. It didn't tickle. It tingled lightly and his fingers curled inward once more. They closed upon her fingers this time. "Be honest, though. I'm curious."
"Honestly?" He inhaled thoughtfully. She smelt heavily of the strawberry shampoo she insisted on buying. It was nice, though he would've preferred something else. Lavender, maybe. He would've preferred she paid more attention to her Zoid, than her appearance, too. She was fine the way she was. For a moment, he nuzzled his mouth into her hair, closing his eyes to contemplate. "Sometimes. While I like it here -- a lot -- there's plenty to miss there."
"Oh?" She lifted his hand to her face, uncurling the fingers, and began prodding once more. He grinned at her determination. "I sometimes miss Kiyomi and Kazumi. While they weren't the greatest pilots, they were nice to have around."
"Companionship." He nodded sagely against her, pausing for a sole minute to kiss lightly at the top of her head. She sighed and pulled the hand, his hand, upward, cupping it against the exposed side of her jaw. "I worry about Leena and dad."
"Why?" She hadn't known of the mother. To her knowledge, she simply -- wasn't there. Death wasn't an option. She had never guessed, nor supposed that was the reason and she never had anything to back it up. Leena and Leon steered clear of the topic, as though it were the plague.
"Mom," He hesitated. To tread upon the topic which he had gone to such lengths to remain out of, or not? He sighed. Now was better than never. "Died when Leena was little. 3, to be exact. She doesn't really remember mom, but they were still torn emotionally."
"You're considerate." She responded softly, not a hint of anything but compassion within her voice. He silently thanked her for that; more questions would make him feel worse than he was beginning to feel. She now hesitated, though continued in an uncharacteristically timid tone, "You're loved for that, too."
"What about you?" He rolled back onto his back and took her with him. She now pressed an ample weight upon one arm, half of her body draped over his own. She shifted, turning until she found herself comfortable, one arm now slung over his stomach, her chin propped upon his chest.
"What about me?" She returned the question, just as curiously. What was there to know?
"What do you miss?" He rephrased it and closed his eyes, folding his free arm behind his head, curling the other about her waist.
"I miss being undefeated." She smiled and turned her head, laying it flat upon his chest. His heartbeat was steady and slow within the ribcage, his breathing almost in synch. If she were to close her eyes, she would undoubtedly fall asleep right then and there.
"That's it?" He opened one eye, sounding a bit less than incredulous. He was grinning, either way, so mocking her was out of the question. She nodded tiredly against him. "One thing. Well, I commend you for being so care free, then."
"I miss being home, too, though not as much as everyone else." She added slowly, thoughtfully, though her words still came out in somewhat of a jumble. She laughed quietly and focused on the duller of the two moons. "Mom was very traditional. She lived to see us all in kimonos."
"I miss you." He cut through amidst a yawn, tipping his head to the direction opposite of her. A mild blush was swiftly adding a red tinge to the typical pale of his skin; he would have done a lot to keep her from seeing it.
She looked up at him, brows scrunched, eyes narrowed faintly in thought. He had said things that were more heartfelt, more intimate and never had snickered, turned red, or -- anything else remotely related to embarrassment. Why would he start now?
"Anything else?" She drummed her fingers against his chest to catch his attention once more. He looked up at her and still held that blush, still smiling away as though holding some secret right before her eyes. Both brows rose in confusion and she continued drumming her fingers along gently.
"Later." He brought his own hand up from behind his head and mused at her hair childishly; reveling in the infuriated look she shot him.
- - - -
She had spoke previously of work -- it surely didn't seem like it now. Her hands were surprisingly soft, evenly smooth to the touch. It almost had been like she was still wearing her gloves, even as she calmly slept.
She was a deep sleeper. She didn't wake to the feeling of a duo of hands pressed lightly upon her own, pushing back the extensive, soft fabric of her pajama sleeve back enough to expose her arm from the wrist down. She didn't wake when her hand was lifted from the bed, withdrawn from the covers to have her fingers separated.
She didn't wake at all. Even when he tucked her hand back beneath the sleeve. Even when he meticulously placed her hand beneath the blanket once more. Even when he paused, a momentary look of desperate longing and hope within his face.
He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking, and hastily retreated.
- - - -
"Mm." She disliked yawning, though it wasn't as if she could stop it from happening. She rolled onto her side, facing the door, her arms curling against her chest. She would have enjoyed a few more hours of sleep, a few more days, even. But, the possibility of that -- highly unlikely.
She could hear indistinctive clankings coming from the vicinity where the kitchen would be located. This caused her to frown in confusion. Leon didn't cook -- couldn't cook. Or, at least, that had been his claims.
She huffed. How like them, to deny such a thing to get out of work! She elbowed her way out of bed and stretched, pressing her hands above her head, exposing her palms to the ceiling. The awkward weight upon one finger instantly caught her attention and she blinked. Had she forgotten to take something off last night?
Propping the hand which didn't possess a weight upon one hip and bringing the one towards her face to look, squinting through a haze of sleep, wondering what it --
A ring. A thickly banded ring, encrusted with gems she couldn't begin to name. She blinked and blinked, and immediately began setting at taking it off. It slid away easily and she held it upright toward the light, looking about the innards, incase if she had worn it accidentally. She wouldn't buy herself something like this on any occasion.
'Devotion. Forever,' was imprinted upon the inside of the band in small, but meticulous, Calligraphic lettering. Beneath it, in even smaller, though less fancy writing, was 'Leon.'
...
"What --" She breathed. She could have been jumping to conclusions..
How obvious was that, though? A ring, mysteriously found upon her hand. That specific finger, too! She lowered the ring and instinctively slipped it back upon her finger. She probably just found it last night and wore it, just so it wouldn't get lost. Leon thought of her as a best friend, maybe a sibling!
She shook her head. The clanking was getting louder from the kitchen and she was growing worried.
"Naomi?" Worried was beyond how she felt now. He knocked lightly upon her door, his tone resembling that of a guilty child. She tucked her hands behind her back quickly and coughed, shooting a look around the room suspiciously.
"I'm awake; c'mon in." She felt awkward standing there. Why? It was her home. It was just a ring, too.. He opened the door and looked about, his face formed into a strangely blissful look of happiness.
"Are you hungry--?" He was smiling, wiping his hands upon the towel wedged within a pocket of the cranberry apron he wore -- her apron, with a big, 'Kiss me! I'm Naomi!' printed down the front. She felt her knees giving out on her..
What were the chances of finding a ring like that, anyway? And playing off the ring would be interesting, anyway. Even if she was wrong, a little embarrassment was nothing!
She squeezed her eyes closed and took in a deep breath. His smile was widening; had she noticed, or was she simply acting strange? To answer the silent inquiry, she opened her eyes, smiled rather brilliantly and threw herself forward. He caught her deftly and was almost immediately secured within a hug. He returned it, pulling her upright, lacing his fingers together upon the nape of her back.
She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and lightly murmured, "Yes."
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Leon/Naomi.
Notes: oO; I wrote this a while ago. When I first had the concept of my little Leon deathfic in mind. It's pretty crappy for that reason.
Semi-cuteness. Semi-sap. Blah blah blah. I. AM. TIRED. Jeeez. It's three in the morning! What compelled me to post thiiiiiiis?! X_o;
- - - -
"Leon." She prodded gently at the side of his stomach; something relatively easy to do, as he was reclining upon his back on the metallic roofing of the compound, and had been that way since they had clambered up hours ago. She prodded again, more demandingly, almost as though begging for his attention like a child.
"Naomi." He responded and removed a hand from behind his head to poke, in return, at her. She began to grin faintly.
"Leon." She prodded once more, leaning her weight upon her free hand, pressing towards him to find some place -- any place -- he could possibly be ticklish, or sensitive at. He didn't even flinch.
"Naomi." Though, he was starting to mimic her grin. He poked once more, eyes dancing between the various gleaming constellations in the sky, pausing upon the duo of moons.
"Leon." She continued prodding away, reaching over his stomach, inching towards his upper body. Not one movement. She began growing frustrated and silently pouted to herself.
"Naomi." He, having already tickled her lifelessly earlier that day, after they had defeated a class 'A' team, poked her just between the starting of her ribs and her stomach. She yelped and jerked back, though only soon to recoil, eying him dangerously. He grinned toothily at her.
"Leo--" She reached around, nearly leaning over him completely now, and began poking up and down his arm. Only after her fingertips brushed randomly at the area just above his elbow. He jerked away from her swiftly and took her hand along with it.
"Not there!" He just about wailed and flipped onto his side, revealing the ticklish area even more, as he pulled her towards him. She collapsed against the rooftop and curled back against him. He mumbled something indistinctive about ticklish spots and, with one arm around her, rubbed at his elbow carefully.
"Why not?" She, still grinning away, defiantly reached around to finger about for his elbow. He wrapped his arms tighter about her upper body, securing her arms in place, holding her snugly. She laughed and folded her arms horizontally over his own, clasping her fingers around his.
"Why do you think?" He leant his chin against the top of her head and huffed quietly. His grip upon her loosened to a comfortable, loose hug, and her grin widened.
"I don't know.." She trailed off idly and looked down. Before he could react, she unlatched an arm to reach around, tickling and brushing playfully at the spot. "Is this why?"
"Yes!" He cried in between what could be described as horribly stifled chuckles. He pulled his arm away and tucked it between the both of them, folding it against his body so she wouldn't be able to find it without severe discomfort. "Humph."
"Oh." She concluded innocently and inclined her head further, lacing her fingers amongst the hand left behind. He, rather wearily, looked down at her, watching carefully as she uncurled his fingers, pulling his hand so that the palm was left revealed. She traced the fingers on her opposite hand about the worn lines of his palm.
He was comfortable and felt utterly relaxed. A day before, he would've scowled at the thought of being in such a position. The team they had gone against was second in line with his original team, the Blitz Team, when it came to being bests. Soon, they would go up against the Blitz and -- well, the future was undetermined. Win, he silently hoped.
"Have ya' ever thought about going back?" She inquired tiredly as she tapped a specific area on his hand. His fingers curled inward, through simple reflex and he briefly wondered if, by chance, he was ticklish there, as well.
"Not really. I'm fine here."
"Of course." She agreed and prodded at that spot once or twice more. It didn't tickle. It tingled lightly and his fingers curled inward once more. They closed upon her fingers this time. "Be honest, though. I'm curious."
"Honestly?" He inhaled thoughtfully. She smelt heavily of the strawberry shampoo she insisted on buying. It was nice, though he would've preferred something else. Lavender, maybe. He would've preferred she paid more attention to her Zoid, than her appearance, too. She was fine the way she was. For a moment, he nuzzled his mouth into her hair, closing his eyes to contemplate. "Sometimes. While I like it here -- a lot -- there's plenty to miss there."
"Oh?" She lifted his hand to her face, uncurling the fingers, and began prodding once more. He grinned at her determination. "I sometimes miss Kiyomi and Kazumi. While they weren't the greatest pilots, they were nice to have around."
"Companionship." He nodded sagely against her, pausing for a sole minute to kiss lightly at the top of her head. She sighed and pulled the hand, his hand, upward, cupping it against the exposed side of her jaw. "I worry about Leena and dad."
"Why?" She hadn't known of the mother. To her knowledge, she simply -- wasn't there. Death wasn't an option. She had never guessed, nor supposed that was the reason and she never had anything to back it up. Leena and Leon steered clear of the topic, as though it were the plague.
"Mom," He hesitated. To tread upon the topic which he had gone to such lengths to remain out of, or not? He sighed. Now was better than never. "Died when Leena was little. 3, to be exact. She doesn't really remember mom, but they were still torn emotionally."
"You're considerate." She responded softly, not a hint of anything but compassion within her voice. He silently thanked her for that; more questions would make him feel worse than he was beginning to feel. She now hesitated, though continued in an uncharacteristically timid tone, "You're loved for that, too."
"What about you?" He rolled back onto his back and took her with him. She now pressed an ample weight upon one arm, half of her body draped over his own. She shifted, turning until she found herself comfortable, one arm now slung over his stomach, her chin propped upon his chest.
"What about me?" She returned the question, just as curiously. What was there to know?
"What do you miss?" He rephrased it and closed his eyes, folding his free arm behind his head, curling the other about her waist.
"I miss being undefeated." She smiled and turned her head, laying it flat upon his chest. His heartbeat was steady and slow within the ribcage, his breathing almost in synch. If she were to close her eyes, she would undoubtedly fall asleep right then and there.
"That's it?" He opened one eye, sounding a bit less than incredulous. He was grinning, either way, so mocking her was out of the question. She nodded tiredly against him. "One thing. Well, I commend you for being so care free, then."
"I miss being home, too, though not as much as everyone else." She added slowly, thoughtfully, though her words still came out in somewhat of a jumble. She laughed quietly and focused on the duller of the two moons. "Mom was very traditional. She lived to see us all in kimonos."
"I miss you." He cut through amidst a yawn, tipping his head to the direction opposite of her. A mild blush was swiftly adding a red tinge to the typical pale of his skin; he would have done a lot to keep her from seeing it.
She looked up at him, brows scrunched, eyes narrowed faintly in thought. He had said things that were more heartfelt, more intimate and never had snickered, turned red, or -- anything else remotely related to embarrassment. Why would he start now?
"Anything else?" She drummed her fingers against his chest to catch his attention once more. He looked up at her and still held that blush, still smiling away as though holding some secret right before her eyes. Both brows rose in confusion and she continued drumming her fingers along gently.
"Later." He brought his own hand up from behind his head and mused at her hair childishly; reveling in the infuriated look she shot him.
- - - -
She had spoke previously of work -- it surely didn't seem like it now. Her hands were surprisingly soft, evenly smooth to the touch. It almost had been like she was still wearing her gloves, even as she calmly slept.
She was a deep sleeper. She didn't wake to the feeling of a duo of hands pressed lightly upon her own, pushing back the extensive, soft fabric of her pajama sleeve back enough to expose her arm from the wrist down. She didn't wake when her hand was lifted from the bed, withdrawn from the covers to have her fingers separated.
She didn't wake at all. Even when he tucked her hand back beneath the sleeve. Even when he meticulously placed her hand beneath the blanket once more. Even when he paused, a momentary look of desperate longing and hope within his face.
He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking, and hastily retreated.
- - - -
"Mm." She disliked yawning, though it wasn't as if she could stop it from happening. She rolled onto her side, facing the door, her arms curling against her chest. She would have enjoyed a few more hours of sleep, a few more days, even. But, the possibility of that -- highly unlikely.
She could hear indistinctive clankings coming from the vicinity where the kitchen would be located. This caused her to frown in confusion. Leon didn't cook -- couldn't cook. Or, at least, that had been his claims.
She huffed. How like them, to deny such a thing to get out of work! She elbowed her way out of bed and stretched, pressing her hands above her head, exposing her palms to the ceiling. The awkward weight upon one finger instantly caught her attention and she blinked. Had she forgotten to take something off last night?
Propping the hand which didn't possess a weight upon one hip and bringing the one towards her face to look, squinting through a haze of sleep, wondering what it --
A ring. A thickly banded ring, encrusted with gems she couldn't begin to name. She blinked and blinked, and immediately began setting at taking it off. It slid away easily and she held it upright toward the light, looking about the innards, incase if she had worn it accidentally. She wouldn't buy herself something like this on any occasion.
'Devotion. Forever,' was imprinted upon the inside of the band in small, but meticulous, Calligraphic lettering. Beneath it, in even smaller, though less fancy writing, was 'Leon.'
...
"What --" She breathed. She could have been jumping to conclusions..
How obvious was that, though? A ring, mysteriously found upon her hand. That specific finger, too! She lowered the ring and instinctively slipped it back upon her finger. She probably just found it last night and wore it, just so it wouldn't get lost. Leon thought of her as a best friend, maybe a sibling!
She shook her head. The clanking was getting louder from the kitchen and she was growing worried.
"Naomi?" Worried was beyond how she felt now. He knocked lightly upon her door, his tone resembling that of a guilty child. She tucked her hands behind her back quickly and coughed, shooting a look around the room suspiciously.
"I'm awake; c'mon in." She felt awkward standing there. Why? It was her home. It was just a ring, too.. He opened the door and looked about, his face formed into a strangely blissful look of happiness.
"Are you hungry--?" He was smiling, wiping his hands upon the towel wedged within a pocket of the cranberry apron he wore -- her apron, with a big, 'Kiss me! I'm Naomi!' printed down the front. She felt her knees giving out on her..
What were the chances of finding a ring like that, anyway? And playing off the ring would be interesting, anyway. Even if she was wrong, a little embarrassment was nothing!
She squeezed her eyes closed and took in a deep breath. His smile was widening; had she noticed, or was she simply acting strange? To answer the silent inquiry, she opened her eyes, smiled rather brilliantly and threw herself forward. He caught her deftly and was almost immediately secured within a hug. He returned it, pulling her upright, lacing his fingers together upon the nape of her back.
She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and lightly murmured, "Yes."
