Okay, I give up. I'll use the French names—I have OCD tendencies in this regard.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS STORY.
Just this story. Enjoy!
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Naminé and Xion tucked into their bacon and eggs as they watched Axel and Zexion practice running up walls. The blonde had been told that the technique was named 'passe muraille', or wall pass as a rough translation.
"Nice one, Zexion!" Xion cheered as the brunette traceur pulled off a perfect wall pass, vaulting up and catching the small ledge above him.
"Thank you," he murmured back, before stepping back to allow Axel a turn.
"Bet I can do that and get up to the second ledge," the other traceur grinned.
"You're on. What're the terms?"
"If you win, you get to ask Larxene out. If I win, I get to."
Zexion began spluttering something about how Larxene was not a thing to be bartered over; she was a beautiful human being and that Axel should go shove his words up—
"Hey, rebels!"
All four twisted around to see a brown-haired boy—the same one Axel had decked during the lunch brawl—leading two others towards them.
"What do you want?" Axel groaned. "We just wanna practice!"
The boy sneered. "We're just getting these two ladies away from you, that's all," he retorted.
"Why don't you go mind your own business?" Xion remarked. "Does it look like we need your help?"
The brown-haired boy flinched. "Ummm…"
"Sexist, much?" Naminé added helpfully. "Like the brainless knights in football jerseys you are?"
He flinched. "Just wanted to help," he muttered.
The four friends looked at the boy and his cohorts stalk away. When they were sure the three were out of earshot they burst into laughter.
"Amazing, Naminé," Axel smirked. "No swearing and they still got told!"
"I'm of the opinion that that boy is attracted to either you or Xion," Zexion said thoughtfully.
Xion raised an eyebrow. "Say again?" she frowned.
Zexion rolled his eyes. "In words your hormone-drugged minds would understand, one of those boys just now has a crush on one of you."
"If he can give me a date more perfect than Roxas did, then I'd up his chances to impossible," Naminé replied airily.
"Aw, c'mon—you only thought our date was perfect?"
The artist looked up from her food to see the scowling blond traceur walking towards them.
"Roxas!" she yelped. She jumped up and tackled him in a giant hug.
"Hello, stunning," he grinned, hugging her back. "How was your night?"
"It's a long story," she mumbled into his shirt. She released him. "You might wanna take a seat. Xion…?"
The brunette traceuse sighed in resignation and buried her face in her hands. "Well…"
When the story was finished, Roxas stood up in anger. "Oh that arrogant little—I swear I'm gonna—"
The artist next to him reached up and grabbed a handful of shirt cloth before dragging him back down. "Calm down, Roxas," Naminé murmured. "I almost had that chance this morning."
"So why didn't you take it?"
"Xion held me down."
Axel whistled in appreciation. "A catfight, huh? I'd have loved to see that."
"AXEL!"
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Naminé walked along the dirt path to the stadium. She was dressed in cargo pants and a spaghetti-strap top, as per Roxas's recommendations.
The man himself was waiting for her down on the track; he was leaning against the raised platform containing the bleachers.
"Roxas?"
"Hi, Naminé. Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes." Her voice was small but it didn't waver—she would go through with this.
"Okay—first we need to start on your physical fitness."
She groaned in pain. "You killed it."
"What?" he grumbled. "Your muscles are pathetic."
Roxas staggered back, a bruise already forming on his cheek. "Okay, maybe I underestimated you a little," he hastily added. "So violent…"
"Well, fine, if I have to, I'll exercise," she sighed, theatrically waving her arms. "At least I know what scares you."
"Okay then—we'll be working on your arm and leg muscles first, then your core," he said.
"Running and weights?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of running and then push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, whatever, and then more running. But yeah, we will be doing weights later. It's a fantastic way to build up upper body strength."
Was she really going through with this? What was that old adage—easier said than done?
"Now, run one lap, as fast as you can!"
Motherfucker…
The blonde once again found herself unable to run faster than most turtles could trot, but pushed herself to and beyond her maximum speed anyways. She paid for it with the passive equivalent of getting the wind knocked out of her.
"Never—run—that—fast—before—" she wheezed, struggling to get up from her prone position. "G—GOD—!"
Roxas kneeled down next to her. "We're taking a break," he stated firmly.
With that she was hauled to her feet and dragged to the bleachers. It took five minutes of near-hyperventilation before Naminé could so much as breathe again without her lungs feeling as if they were imploding.
"So why did you want to do this?" he asked suddenly.
"Ummm…"
"Did Xion dare you to do this?"
There was no response.
"Oh, I'm gonna—"
Naminé slapped his hand down like a mother would an errant child. "I appreciate your concern but that doesn't mean you get to murder my roommate!" she scolded.
He pouted at her but sat back down.
"And no, she did not dare me into doing this! I'm here by my own choice!"
"So why did you want to learn how to do parkour?"
"I don't know, exactly…"
Roxas raised an eyebrow. "So you're telling me you're doing this on a whim?"
He sounded a tad offended, but Naminé couldn't blame him. "By 'I don't know' I mean I don't know how to translate my reasons into words," she explained.
"Oh. Does the reason have anything to do with me…?"
"You're so vain!"
"I'm not being vain, I'm being honest."
"How?"
"Admit it, you only wanted to learn so you could spend more time with me!"
"W-what?" Burning carmine flooded her cheeks.
"In fact, I think this counts as our second date!"
He earned a barrage of slaps for that one.
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"Twenty four and a half, twenty four and three quarters—"
"Just say twenty-five already!" she snapped. Her stomach felt like it had been beaten with a hammer—that was how sore her muscles were. It had been a good five hours since their little rendezvous had started, and she was starting to lose her patience.
"C'mon, I thought you said you wanted to learn how to run like us!"
"You don't have to be sadistic about it!"
"Good point. Twenty six, twenty seven…"
Next up was the push-ups. Naminé had thought that sit-ups were bad enough, but she changed her mind once the arm-bending began.
"Grrrr—" she grunted, trying to raise herself up on her arms. Sweat poured down her forehead. "Come on, come on—WHOA!"
She had fallen face first onto the turf, and boy did it hurt. Had she had her mouth open?
Yes.
"Ick," she growled, spitting grass out of her mouth. "I'm not a cow."
"How do you know that?" Roxas teased.
A glare instantly silenced him, but when she raised a finger to follow through, a sharp pain stabbed through her shoulder. "Ow!"
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"My shoulder doesn't feel good…" Naminé would have said something more intelligent if his nose suddenly wasn't two centimeters from her neck. "And—and why are you so close…?"
There was that mischievous grin again. "Who said I had to get just this close?"
"I don't like the—GAH!"
He was suddenly way too close and way too heavy for Naminé to retreat. She looked down and saw that he'd pinned her legs to the ground.
"Wh-what're you doing?"
Roxas sighed, his breath tickling the delicate skin of her throat. "I know what you're thinking, and I'm not that kind of person. I won't go that far until you want me to."
Before she could say anything else his lips began sucking on her collarbone, right next to her shoulder.
"Ohhhh…" Damn he was good.
And then he migrated up, up, up, along the curve of her neck, along her jaw, around her ear. Naminé hadn't quite realized just how sensitive her skin was until now…
She whimpered and arched her back as he gently scraped at her neck with his teeth. It should've been painful, and it might have been, but all she was feeling was a jolt of lightning and a wave of fire every time his mouth contacted her skin.
There was a very sensitive spot behind her ear. Funny how she'd poked and prodded it a dozen times and nothing happened, and yet Roxas did things to that patch of skin that caused a burning sensation to occur in the strangest of places—at least, according to her temporarily disabled mind.
Oh god, oh god, how can he know things about my body that even I don't?
At which point she realized she had a boy on top of her in a very suggestive position, she had just the naughtiest thoughts going through her head, and she had been moaning like some—
"Get off me!" Naminé yelped, and a second later Roxas found himself lying on cool grass instead of warm girlflesh.
"You know you liked it," he chuckled.
She merely curled up in a fetal position. "Pervert," she grumbled.
He scooted closer to her and tenderly hugged her with one arm. "Hey, at least you still have all of your clothes on."
"I still can't quite believe that I let you do this to me." Well, at least the embarrassment drowned out the pain.
"Because I'm an irresistible beast?"
"No, because every time I go near you my brain feels like it's drunk."
"My brain gets naughty images every time I think about you—OOF—!"
Naminé gritted her teeth and withdrew her elbow. She was a bit offended by that statement but at the same time that goddamned blush had to come along and make everybody misinterpret her real feelings.
"Seriously!" Roxas protested. "You're the only person I know who still looks like a runway model in a parkour training outfit!"
Okay, now the blush and her emotions were perfectly in sync. Her already strawberry cheeks darkened into a shade resembling maroon.
"How do you always do this to me?" she mumbled, picking at a blade of grass she judged to be about a foot away from her.
"Do what?"
"Make me feel so…so…so…I think lightheaded is the term I'm looking for."
He chuckled mischievously. "I thought you were lightheaded naturally," he replied. "I mean, with your hair color—"
"That joke's going straight to hell!" Naminé hissed, turning around so she could unleash her wrath upon the poor boy.
Roxas's alternating laughter and cries for mercy rang through the silent night sky as the girl in his arms mercilessly tickled him silly.
When she'd had her fun he wrapped her in a giant bear hug.
"But you make me feel kind of the same way, you know?" he whispered.
"Hmmm…?" She was already starting to doze off.
"Because right now, there's no other place in the whole world I'd rather be than right here with you."
His next words were so soft she thought it was her imagination playing tricks on her. "Thank you, Naminé. Thank you...for giving me a second chance."
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I feel as if I've turned Naminé into a dumb blonde lately. I don't know exactly why I think that, but her dialogue, her actions; they all emphasize her character's simplicity, not her intelligence.
So it looks like I've got some character clean-up to do. Plus, I've been using too many cliches, in my opinion. :( I must fix that also.
That little button 'Review' about three centimeters below my story is calling to you…let it draw you in, yes, yes, click it…