A/N : Ohmygosh. I cannot believe myself. I really wrote this. Sleep-deprived, yes, but it was still me.
I have Sir Edward to thank for this one, really. Weird? You be the judge of that. I was just a bit apprehensive, not having written any Cid/Aerith before.
Disclaimer: I don't own KH.
Heartprism
» ( Fuchsia: Amiability )
A gruff man with eyes of a startling vivid crystalline hue walked through the doorway. He didn't feel the need to knock, automatically assuming that the occupant of the room was decent at this hour — heck, she probably wasn't even present. Knowing the flower-loving girl, she was either in her garden, cooking up a storm in the kitchen, or selling lilac tulips and yellow daisies and pink carnations off in the Borough somewhere.
That's why his cobalt eyes discharged surprise and curiosity to see Aerith lying in bed looking rather ill. She had a stuffy red nose along with those tired looking eyes, and yet, he couldn't help but think that she still looked as attractive as ever. Though she looked exhausted, her jade eyes shone with brilliance and her mahogany curls were still tied back into that impeccable girly plait, flaunting her lily fragrant skin, which was still being kissed by the light pouring in through the opened window. Through that lucid portal to the outdoors, the entire town was visible, along with his pride and joy, a newly transformed Gummi Ship, which looked particularly beautiful when shone in the shimmering sunlight.
All the same, he couldn't keep the exasperated tone out of his voice, the same tone he'd adopted over the years when dealing with a certain hyperactive ninja brat during pubescence. "Why the hell didn't ya tell anybody you were sick?"
Aerith, sick? It seemed like such an inconceivable, utterly impossible notion, especially when spoken aloud. She seemed to sense this too, in the way she sat up with a slight wince, and craned her swanlike neck to look at him more closely through lidded eyes.
"Cid," she said in greeting, but with a soft, gentle voice heavily layered with evident anxiety. She pushed back the green bed covers — which complimented her shining peridot hues well — away from her face, revealing the pink, cotton nightgown that she loved wearing to bed. No, it wasn't something particularly fancy or exquisite, but it was enough for her. Besides, Aerith had been scolded by a flustered Leon for wearing it outside of intimate quarters on more than one occasion. The pilot could easily see why in that particular moment, what with the way it bunched up around her slim legs, hugging her soft feminine curves. In fact, she seemed completely unaware that while he was gentleman enough not to mention that her nightgown was riding up, showed off far more lean, silky flesh than any warm blooded man could not be stimulated by.
Bothered, he meant bothered.
Aerith tilted her head slightly from across the bedroom, oblivious, and said, "But I'm all right. Really."
"You sure yer feelin' all right?" She shook her head firmly, blinking all the while to reclaim her wandering vision.
"We all have our own share of burdens to bear," Aerith insisted, her voice near sweet enough for Cid to believe her. She was all sunshine, rainbows, eloquent chattiness and so many other things that he couldn't place. The chestnut-haired and emerald eyed young woman was most likely the most mature person Cid knew yet; she was always in a cheerful mood, and not once had he ever seen her sad. Yet in that moment, while she still remained sitting, rubbing her hands together, and maintaining her line of vision on the floral eyelet, she looked little more than a small child in the process. Her soft frown returned to a brilliant smile and her eyes started to glimmer again. She then returned her eyes back to Cid.
He frowned, eyeing Aerith almost accusingly. "That ain't the answer I was looking fer and ya know it."
She gave another reassuring smile as Cid walked across the wooden boards in the direction of she was sitting, a scowl firmly plastered on his face, and replied, "Even Sora is doing more than he should, and he's only a child."
A faint hint of annoyance flashed across his blue eyes. "We ain't talkin' about Sora, now are we? 'Sides, he's the Keyblade Bearer. I reckon' it sorta comes with the territory."
She looked perplexed for a second. "Don't you have to work on the Gummi Ship?"
"Already took care of it."
"What about the remainder of the Restoration Committee?"
Cid gave a humorless snort. "They can handle takin' care of the town by themselves for a day or two. If they can't, well, then I reckon the whole town's gonna go to hell," he said.
"I . . ." She trailed off, "But I can't just sit around and do absolutely nothing."
The blond-haired pilot pressed his mouth into a tightly pursed line, blood draining from his lips. Cid turned on her then, a deep snarl across his rugged face, an expression so fierce that she was immediately taken aback, "Would ya fuckin' just quit it already? Look at ya! Yer sick as a goddamn dog, Aerith!"
After bursting out those stinging words, all lapsed into a very uncommon and awkward silence. Moments felt as though they were lasting an eternity. Azure met emerald eyes, which had widened in a mystified manner, sentiment undoubtedly flooding in their heads. Her marginally cherry lips quivered like poppies dancing to lulling winds, and her already blushing facial features burned an even darker shade of red — it was getting very pink, almost matching her pajamas.
Swallowing her alarm, she moved to get up, to touch his arm in silent sympathy. Instantly, he shot out one hand, pushing her back down gently. "Just don't, Aerith. All right?"
She looked so fragile in that moment. When wide forest green orbs continued to stare up at him, bright with moisture, he immediately regretted his words. "Cid," she murmured, voice still as soft as it had been earlier, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be a burden."
Understanding immediately donned on him just as quickly as he misunderstood her. How she treated whatever wounds her comrades may have had inflicted upon them during the course of the day, and worked her Curaga magic on patching them up. How she sold her flowers and offered strangers kind smiles on the cobblestone streets she so adored. How couldn't help but see countless porcelain hearts in need of mending wherever she went. How she was mother to them all and used to aiding those in need, not the other way around. It was horribly complex, yet completely simple.
No one had the adequacy of being perfect — and she was no exception.
He sighed deeply, but was not surprised; everyone had their flaws. Everyone needed reassurance. "Look." Cid ran his hands through his hair, looking both apologetic and awkward. "I ain't no housewife, but I don't mind fixin' up somethin' fer ya to eat either. Just let me take care of ya this one time around, all right? It's the least I could do for all you've done for the rest of us."
She parted those pink lips of hers, about to politely disagree with him, about to say something in protest, when she suddenly lost the words and broke out into a frenzied coughing fit instead. He tried to calm her down as he gently ran a hand up and down her slender back, whispering to her comfortingly, saying that she sounded terrible and needed to stop being so hardheaded. And when Aerith's coughs finally subsided after her eyes had begun to water with tears, she murmured her thanks and apologized all in the same breath.
"See? You're hardly in any condition to move about." Cid brushed her soaked locks out of startlingly alabaster features, trailing his thumb along her round porcelain cheek, cautious, aware of the rough calluses and the gaunt, thick texture of his skin there; her skin was so pale, he thought, that she looked like a ghost. Sitting next to her on her bed, he happened to look at Aerith's frail hands.
Cid had never been the religious sort per se, but he could easily imagine the peaceful closing of the flower girl's eyes, that slight upward curve of a smile, in a silent prayer amidst translucent rainbows.
It was in that moment, that he felt displeasing rush of nausea abruptly hit him.
"You . . you've got prayin' hands," he muttered softly, and the thought made his head hurt. Suddenly, his voice felt contrived and twisted, spiraling tight in his throat. Clawed hands wrapped around his stuttering heart, squeezing down like a vice. He had grabbed up her fragile ones with his by this time, stroking her knuckles almost protectively, eyes going distant, and remembering something she didn't.
She mumured his name tentatively, but he didn't seem to hear her.
The older man continued to gaze into her eyes, with a much gentler sort of intensity than anyone who knew the proud, loudmouth pilot would have believed possible, and she stared back, stunned into bewilderment by his uncharacteristically tender gestures.
"Aeeeriiiiiiith! When's supper going to be ready? I'm starving up in here!"
Cid abruptly pulled his hands away and gave her an awkward sort of little pat on the head just as a scantily clad ninja-girl burst into the room. Her large, deep brown irises seemed to gravitate back and forth between the two of them; curious, thoughtful.
"Why the heck are you in here, old man?"
"Shut up, would ya?" Cid ground out between gritted teeth, before turning back to stare at Aerith. He gazed at her a moment before his aggravated expression faded into something softer, as though something inside him had yielded. "Green tea and soup sound go —?" He was cut off, but with a hug.
"I would like that," she admitted. A radiant smile lit up her facial features, and she beamed at him kindly. The faintest tint of a rosy blush bloomed in her cheeks having nothing at all to do with her illness, and Cid had to remind himself not to stare.
Idly, he wondered how he'd never really noticed her before until now.
"Good." Cid straightened, his glower lacking the usual intimidating intensity, and announced, "'Cause the canned shit is all we got." He turned away, holding himself steady, and ignoring the flabbergasted expression taking residence on Yuffie's face as he brushed past her.
- x -
It worked well enough for another week. Aerith finally got her much needed rest, only waking occasionally when Cid came to her room carrying a tray laden with crackers and mint tea or Leon snuck in to stare at her oddly before returning to his own business. Every once in awhile, she snuck into the kitchen to try and do the dishes, but was immediately ushered back to bed. Radiant Garden did not combust in her absence, but instead flourished, and spring arrived on the scene to expel the chill of winter at long last. Everywhere there was healthy green grass and blooming flowers; the air was pleasantly warm and relaxing as it whispered through the trees, soothing winds causing the flowers in the fields to dance.
The following morning was glaringly ordinary, with the exception of Cid who awoke to the lull of early morning embracing him, only to muffle a refrained curse word out loud before burying his face back into his pillow irritably.
Someone had opened the window to let the cool air draft in.
Listening to the curtains rustle again in the silence, he turned to his side only to stare in utter bewilderment at the vase of dew-kissed pink fuchsia and delicate baby's breath on the windowsill, bobbing their pretty heads up and down in the gentle breeze that swirled in.
It was a message written clear enough in the petals: Thank you.
The muscles in Cid's jaw loosened up to crack a soft grin.