|Disclaimer: Mr. Disclaimer is still on an extended hiatus. He sends his
deepest regards, and tells you to view the other pages for a disclaimer,
since he's much too angry to do anything about it right now.|
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"Bad day?" Yuffie tried as Squall came in, angrily slamming the apartment door closed behind him. He was back a half hour before he needed to be, but she could sympathize; in her current state, she didn't think that she could have made the whole day like he did. She was curled in a ball on the couch, the magazines, papers, and old newspapers shoved under the coffee table, with her pajamas on and her hair hanging limp in her eyes. The kettle was sitting forgotten on the counter, for Yuffie had instead made green tea in a tea set she had bought at a street fair a couple months back, with one of the small, intricately worked cups sitting before her on the small table. The night had come rather swiftly, and although the stars couldn't be seen with all of the lights and smog, the near-darkness came in through the unveiled windows.
"How'd you guess?" he muttered, tossing his long overcoat into the closet without bothering to hang it up first. His bag followed that, being tossed at the door to shut it without having to exert the effort. Squall had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and was running his hands through his hair, finally maneuvering over to an under stuffed armchair and plopping down without regard that his cell phone was buried under the cushion. He closed his eyes, propping his feet up onto the coffee table.
"I called Aerith and told her I wouldn't be in, and then called all of my professors - all of them! - and told them. Nobody really seemed to care, except Aerith, telling me that Riku would have to take my shift. Then I called Cid, and he told me to drink tea" - she gestured vaguely to the countertop - "but not too much or else I'd throw up. Again," she finished, rubbing her temples.
"Anything else interesting happen?" he asked, trying to sound lively and concerned, although it failed miserably. His coffee didn't agree with the stomach virus - he had concluded that that was probably it - and was now protesting loudly by making his stomach speak for itself.
"What do you expect?" she asked in an overly-loud voice that made both of their heads hurt. "Nothing, not a thing." A few moments of silence reigned, and then: "C'mere and lemme see you."
"What?!" he asked sharply, eyes opening fast and staring at Yuffie as if she'd grown an extra head.
"Just lemme look at you! And get yourself some tea while you're up; it does wonders," she added, hugging a pillow to her chest. He merely stared at her for another minute before mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'fine' and stood, making his way to the counter and pouring a small cupful of tea. He sniffed it warily, and, at an encouraging smile from Yuffie, downed it in one swallow. He blinked at it for a minute, and then dropped it with a crash and ran out of the room. Yuffie grimaced; that set had cost forty-five dollars.
When he came back, his hair was in a ponytail (courtesy of a rubber band) and he looked like a cross between livid and exhausted. He didn't bother going back to the chair; he merely sat down on the other side of the worn couch, head in his hands. Yuffie watched him tentatively for a few minute before he finally said in a low, tired voice, "Yeah. That helped."
Yuffie's face brightened. "I knew it would!" she said happily, slapping him on the back. His eyes were wide for a moment before he finally mustered the will to look at her, sending a scathing glare her way. However, it didn't seem so bad, for some reason; she gave a small giggle and hugged her pillow closer. "It never seems so bad if you throw up once."
"Can we please get off the topic?" he begged instantly after she finished her sentence, and she nodded happily, dropping the pillow and bending down to pull up her heavy black book bag. Out of it she drew a thick book somehow relating to biology, which had several sticky notes in random places throughout the book.
"Can you help me with this? I don't understand a word of it," she asked, flipping a few hundred pages to the last sticky note and shoving it toward him. He squinted at it, turning the book around to face him, but then she snapped, "Now I can't see it!" He rolled his eyes and shifted on the couch so that the book was between them, but then whenever one leaned closer to the page, the two of them smacked heads. "Okay, this isn't working," Yuffie muttered, rubbing her head for the third time.
"What was your first clue?" he muttered acidly, but she didn't retort as she would have; the comment didn't have as much force as it used to. There was a moment of silence, and then he said in a quiet, half-hearted voice, "C'mere."
"What?" Yuffie looked up at him, startled. He was leaning against the arm of the couch, half sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him. What did he want from her?
"C'mere, this way if you lean your head like this" - he cocked his own to one side - "we can both read it." It took a moment for this to register in Yuffie's brain. He wanted her . . . to touch him? Lean against him, no less! She spluttered incoherently for a minute or so, and he gave her an odd look. "Are you . . . okay?" 'Why won't she . . . ? Ah. That's it. She hates me, I forgot,' he mused inwardly, and gave out a soft sigh of what sounded like utmost regret.
"Y-yeah, but Squall . . . are you . . . do you . . . alright?" she stammered, hugging her book tightly now that she had discarded her pillow.
"Its alright, I'm alright, so come here or I can't help you," he snapped, getting angry. If she didn't want to, she could just say it.
"Yessir!" Yuffie prompted, and scrambled to lean up against his chest, trying to ignore the feeling of absolute delight that threatened to bubble up and out of her stomach in a fit of shrieks of 'He's practically HOLDING me!!'
"Right," he murmured, putting his arms around her so as they could both hold the book. She leaned back against his shoulder, and, she noted with glee, that if she were only a couple of inches higher, her cheek would be right up against his. However, she had to settle for his chin against her temple, which was just fine by her. "Okay . . . so what's the problem?"
"It's over here; I can't understand th -" She stopped abruptly in mid- sentence, looking up at him. He looked as tired as she felt, her first clue being that his eyes kept sliding shut, although he was concentrating intently on the size four Verdana print in her book, trying not to show any weakness. His stomach was making odd gurgling noises under her, and she giggled, feeling her own reply as the stomach virus rumbled around.
"What's so funny?" he asked through a yawn, and she sidled closer to him so that their arms brushed just when he exhaled.
"Nothing," she said quietly, and slid down along the soft couch cushions so that her ear came to rest over his stomach. She laughed quietly, feeling it vibrate under her.
"What are you *doing*?" he moaned exasperatedly, tipping his head backwards. She closed her eyes softly; he was the only one holding the heavy textbook now, and she knew that his grip was slackening. It was oddly comforting to feel the gentle grumbling of his stomach under her ear, something long forgotten but reminding her that someone was next to her - rather, under her. She kept her eyes closed like that for several minutes, and when she finally mustered the urge to open them, Squall had leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed tightly, soft, short lashes just barely brushing the skin and webbing with each other. She smiled, so softly that he wouldn't have felt it against his stomach had he been awake, and squirmed to get closer to him, closing her eyes again and vaguely thinking that she should get sick more often.
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I know, I know, this chapter was short. But it was sweet! Aww, Squall being kind and Yuffie being . . . Yuffie. But they're so cute together, admit it! And I just love the thought of his hair in a ponytail. Okay, enough said; go review! C'mon, you know you want to!
Review Button: Click meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
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"Bad day?" Yuffie tried as Squall came in, angrily slamming the apartment door closed behind him. He was back a half hour before he needed to be, but she could sympathize; in her current state, she didn't think that she could have made the whole day like he did. She was curled in a ball on the couch, the magazines, papers, and old newspapers shoved under the coffee table, with her pajamas on and her hair hanging limp in her eyes. The kettle was sitting forgotten on the counter, for Yuffie had instead made green tea in a tea set she had bought at a street fair a couple months back, with one of the small, intricately worked cups sitting before her on the small table. The night had come rather swiftly, and although the stars couldn't be seen with all of the lights and smog, the near-darkness came in through the unveiled windows.
"How'd you guess?" he muttered, tossing his long overcoat into the closet without bothering to hang it up first. His bag followed that, being tossed at the door to shut it without having to exert the effort. Squall had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and was running his hands through his hair, finally maneuvering over to an under stuffed armchair and plopping down without regard that his cell phone was buried under the cushion. He closed his eyes, propping his feet up onto the coffee table.
"I called Aerith and told her I wouldn't be in, and then called all of my professors - all of them! - and told them. Nobody really seemed to care, except Aerith, telling me that Riku would have to take my shift. Then I called Cid, and he told me to drink tea" - she gestured vaguely to the countertop - "but not too much or else I'd throw up. Again," she finished, rubbing her temples.
"Anything else interesting happen?" he asked, trying to sound lively and concerned, although it failed miserably. His coffee didn't agree with the stomach virus - he had concluded that that was probably it - and was now protesting loudly by making his stomach speak for itself.
"What do you expect?" she asked in an overly-loud voice that made both of their heads hurt. "Nothing, not a thing." A few moments of silence reigned, and then: "C'mere and lemme see you."
"What?!" he asked sharply, eyes opening fast and staring at Yuffie as if she'd grown an extra head.
"Just lemme look at you! And get yourself some tea while you're up; it does wonders," she added, hugging a pillow to her chest. He merely stared at her for another minute before mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'fine' and stood, making his way to the counter and pouring a small cupful of tea. He sniffed it warily, and, at an encouraging smile from Yuffie, downed it in one swallow. He blinked at it for a minute, and then dropped it with a crash and ran out of the room. Yuffie grimaced; that set had cost forty-five dollars.
When he came back, his hair was in a ponytail (courtesy of a rubber band) and he looked like a cross between livid and exhausted. He didn't bother going back to the chair; he merely sat down on the other side of the worn couch, head in his hands. Yuffie watched him tentatively for a few minute before he finally said in a low, tired voice, "Yeah. That helped."
Yuffie's face brightened. "I knew it would!" she said happily, slapping him on the back. His eyes were wide for a moment before he finally mustered the will to look at her, sending a scathing glare her way. However, it didn't seem so bad, for some reason; she gave a small giggle and hugged her pillow closer. "It never seems so bad if you throw up once."
"Can we please get off the topic?" he begged instantly after she finished her sentence, and she nodded happily, dropping the pillow and bending down to pull up her heavy black book bag. Out of it she drew a thick book somehow relating to biology, which had several sticky notes in random places throughout the book.
"Can you help me with this? I don't understand a word of it," she asked, flipping a few hundred pages to the last sticky note and shoving it toward him. He squinted at it, turning the book around to face him, but then she snapped, "Now I can't see it!" He rolled his eyes and shifted on the couch so that the book was between them, but then whenever one leaned closer to the page, the two of them smacked heads. "Okay, this isn't working," Yuffie muttered, rubbing her head for the third time.
"What was your first clue?" he muttered acidly, but she didn't retort as she would have; the comment didn't have as much force as it used to. There was a moment of silence, and then he said in a quiet, half-hearted voice, "C'mere."
"What?" Yuffie looked up at him, startled. He was leaning against the arm of the couch, half sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him. What did he want from her?
"C'mere, this way if you lean your head like this" - he cocked his own to one side - "we can both read it." It took a moment for this to register in Yuffie's brain. He wanted her . . . to touch him? Lean against him, no less! She spluttered incoherently for a minute or so, and he gave her an odd look. "Are you . . . okay?" 'Why won't she . . . ? Ah. That's it. She hates me, I forgot,' he mused inwardly, and gave out a soft sigh of what sounded like utmost regret.
"Y-yeah, but Squall . . . are you . . . do you . . . alright?" she stammered, hugging her book tightly now that she had discarded her pillow.
"Its alright, I'm alright, so come here or I can't help you," he snapped, getting angry. If she didn't want to, she could just say it.
"Yessir!" Yuffie prompted, and scrambled to lean up against his chest, trying to ignore the feeling of absolute delight that threatened to bubble up and out of her stomach in a fit of shrieks of 'He's practically HOLDING me!!'
"Right," he murmured, putting his arms around her so as they could both hold the book. She leaned back against his shoulder, and, she noted with glee, that if she were only a couple of inches higher, her cheek would be right up against his. However, she had to settle for his chin against her temple, which was just fine by her. "Okay . . . so what's the problem?"
"It's over here; I can't understand th -" She stopped abruptly in mid- sentence, looking up at him. He looked as tired as she felt, her first clue being that his eyes kept sliding shut, although he was concentrating intently on the size four Verdana print in her book, trying not to show any weakness. His stomach was making odd gurgling noises under her, and she giggled, feeling her own reply as the stomach virus rumbled around.
"What's so funny?" he asked through a yawn, and she sidled closer to him so that their arms brushed just when he exhaled.
"Nothing," she said quietly, and slid down along the soft couch cushions so that her ear came to rest over his stomach. She laughed quietly, feeling it vibrate under her.
"What are you *doing*?" he moaned exasperatedly, tipping his head backwards. She closed her eyes softly; he was the only one holding the heavy textbook now, and she knew that his grip was slackening. It was oddly comforting to feel the gentle grumbling of his stomach under her ear, something long forgotten but reminding her that someone was next to her - rather, under her. She kept her eyes closed like that for several minutes, and when she finally mustered the urge to open them, Squall had leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed tightly, soft, short lashes just barely brushing the skin and webbing with each other. She smiled, so softly that he wouldn't have felt it against his stomach had he been awake, and squirmed to get closer to him, closing her eyes again and vaguely thinking that she should get sick more often.
----~----
I know, I know, this chapter was short. But it was sweet! Aww, Squall being kind and Yuffie being . . . Yuffie. But they're so cute together, admit it! And I just love the thought of his hair in a ponytail. Okay, enough said; go review! C'mon, you know you want to!
Review Button: Click meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!