So, I got some time yesterday night to write a bit, because I managed to learn a lot more than I expected to! So, here's the 5th chapter, and it's ridicoulously fluffy (I don't really like it, I love angst so much more...).

That said, I don't think I'll get enough time to write the 7th chapter this week (or maybe on Saturday/Sunday, I don't know).

Anyway, enjoy your reading, and let me know what you think! :-)

Chapter 6

It's been a week since Fang came back, and we still haven't left my place, not even once. We've talked a lot, kissed a lot, slept a lot. She told me how she got out of the pillar, with so many details it's like I've lived the thing. She told me what she dreamt of when she was in crystal stasis, and how she felt whenever she had to listen to my cursing the world and life. What she heard me say is actually quite accurate, though I never quite realized how offensive I was when I started rambling on my detestable condition. For hours, we could stay together on the couch, me sitting in her lap, my head on her shoulder. And we talked. And when there was nothing more to say, we kissed. She still hasn't tried to touch me – she admitted two days ago that she wanted to wait for the right time. Sometimes, it's very hard to have her lying in bed next to me, her body pressing into mine, my brain spilling over thoughts that I'm ashamed of. But it's also very easy to just enjoy her warmth and presence, to sleep in on mornings and wake up with her on my side, a hot coffee waiting for me on the bedside table, to watch stupid TV shows with her arms around my shoulder. So I'll wait too.

In just a week, I've learnt a lot about her. I know she hates tea because she doesn't see the point of drinking hot water with dried plants in it. I know she can't sleep late because of her past as a huntress - she got used to waking up very early and now it's impossible for her to wake up after seven. I know she loves blue – I could have guessed that – and hates red. She feels a compulsory need to train every day, though it's perfectly useless – my garden has become a huge battlefield covered with feathers of ripped-open pillows and cushions and, unfortunately, of real birds. She could die for chocolate ice cream covered with fresh strawberries. She loves it when I massage her neck but she can't stand it when I poke her sides. I know how her eyes sparkle when she tells me she loves me. I know how the corner of her lips stretch when I tell her I love her. Those are little things, but they're what makes Fang. I'm glad I've got to learn each of them and I hope I'll learn much more in future weeks.

Now, we're on the couch again, and for the first time, I think I'm a bit bored. There's nothing much to do, and as much as I love being with Fang, I've never longed so much for a walk. I'm about to suggest a ride to the park that's just a few minutes away, but I don't get the opportunity to voice my desire.

'Lightning,' she says softly, combing my hair with her fingers. 'I, huh…'

Well, that's unusual. Until now, she's always said what she wanted to say without hesitation, and now it seems like she can't get it out – whatever it is. I take a look at her face and I notice with a frown that she looks nervous. And a nervous Fang is never a good sign, because it means something either horrible or extremely dangerous – or even both, as a matter of fact – is going to happen.

'You…?' I insist, knowing that now my curiosity is pricked, I'll have to get an answer, no matter what.

'I… Wouldyouliketohavedinnerwithmetomorrownight,' she blurts out, with a smile so unlike her that it looks excruciatingly superficial.

I stare at her, trying to decipher what she has just said, but the words just don't make sense in my brain. Did she just say dinner? She's nervous about a dinner? No, that's not possible. She can't be nervous about something so trivial – she wasn't even anxious when we had to fight Barthandelus and Orphan. I'm really starting to worry, thinking that there's something wrong with her. She obviously wants to confide in me, and I'm totally fine with it, but her lips seems to be hermetically sealed.

'What?' I ask softly, squeezing her hand gently, hoping she's going to confess.

'I said,' she finally speaks again, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, 'would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?'

Oh. So it really was about a dinner. That's definitely unexpected. I mean, it's not like she hasn't been eating here for a week, every night, is it? I don't know what to say, both because I don't understand what her point is exactly, and because I fear that I might have gotten it wrong. I can see it in her eyes, she's hoping for an answer, but honestly, what can I say? Of course I'll have dinner with her tomorrow, just like tonight, yesterday, and the day before that… There's nothing horrible or dangerous about that, right?

'I know what you're thinking,' she says shyly, pushing me aside to get on her feet. 'What I mean is, I want… A date. Kind of. You know, our relationship kinda imposed itself on us, because we knew it was the right to do. But I never got to try and seduce you, or whatever you want to call it. It's been a week and we're already living like it's been years since we got together. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but I… I just want to take you to a nice restaurant, I want you to wear a nice dress, and laugh at my silly jokes, and look at the stars with me. I know it's not usually like me, but I want something a bit more romantic than reality TV shows on an old fashioned couch.'

I look at her pacing back and forth in front of me, her fingers running anxiously through her wild mane. That thing must have been running in her mind for some days now, because I can't remember any time when she looked so much agitated. It's very surprising coming from her. I would have never thought she'd be the shy kind when it comes to asking someone out – especially me. I gently take her by the wrist and she stops dead in her tracks, looking at me with a bashful look in her eyes.

'Of course I'll have dinner with you', I tell her softly, watching as she suddenly brightens.

'Really?' she says happily, a smile spreading on her face. 'Nice! Okay, well, I'll just go now, then.'

'What? Where?' I ask as she buckles the belt of her sari.

'Well, I need to do some things, you know,' she explains vaguely, putting her sandals on. 'I'll pick you up at six thirty. See you tomorrow sweetheart.'

That said, she just bents to peck my lips and disappears from my sight. At first, I can't quite understand how I went from being bored to death to super excited. And then it hits me. I have a date. I know it's stupid, but I feel like a teenage girl going to her first prom with her crush. I remember Serah's face when Snow first asked her out and I'm sure I look exactly the same – and I thank Etro that no one ever got to see me like this. I know it's stupid to feel this way, and that it's just a night out with Fang, but I can't help it. It's not like this night is going to define our common fate as a couple, and yet I feel both nervous and thrilled. Who would have thought Lightning Farron could get so frivolous about a date?

I take a look at my watch and sigh deeply when I realize there's still twenty six hours to go. At least, I have enough time to decide what to wear. She wants a nice dress, I remember. The thing is, I don't have nice dress. I head for my bedroom and open the door of my wardrobe. I still have the dress I forced myself to wear for the Guardian Corps ceremony, but it looks relatively ugly. I also have the one my mom bought me when I turned fourteen. Too short. And I have the one Serah offered me when she thought I was hanging out with a guy of the GC. It looks fine, but it's red. Three dresses, none of them fits.

I give an exasperated look at the huge pile of clothes and curse myself for not buying more feminine clothes. I have tons of shorts, pants, tee shirts, tank tops, shirts even, but only three dresses. And the skirt of my uniform. What a lady… I reach for my phone and dial Serah's number, admitting that she's now my only option. I know I'm a bit taller than her, but most of her dresses aren't very short, so she might have something that actually fits me. Or so I hope. When she answers, I immediately regret my decision. I should have known that she'd have reacted like this. I totally lose her when I tell her I have a date. I crawl under the weight of her questions and incessant chirping, and after long minutes, I finally convince her to come over with her dresses.

Half an hour later, she knocks at my door – or more, kick it open with her foot, as she's submerged by an enormous stack of dresses – most of which I recognize for having seen her many times wearing them. She immediately follows me to my bedroom and drops her heavy burden on my bed.

'So,' she says with a large smile, her fists on her hips. 'Who is it?'

'I'm not telling,' I answer casually, already selecting the dresses I like the most.

'What's his name? Is it the guy of the CG you like?'

'I don't like any guy of the CG and I won't say his name. I just need a dress, so please, don't harass me with questions.'

'Oh come on Claire, that's not fair!' she mewls tentatively, tugging on my tee shirt. 'Where is he from?'

'What about this one?' I cut, trying to remain impassible, pointing to a green dress.

'Nope, not your style. What does he look like?'

'And this one?'

'No, too short. Come on, just his name.'

'I like this one.' I say, ignoring her never-ending series of questions.

'Obviously too transparent for you,' she shakes her head, tapping her chin as if she's some kind of expert. 'No, I think this one's perfect.'

'No, she hates red,' I let out when she picks up a crimson short dress.

I frown and grimace when I hear the words slip past my mouth. Shit. That's a terrible, terrible mistake. I clench my teeth and my fingers tighten on the soft material of the red dress, mentally preparing for the storm I feel coming.

'She?' she immediately asks, wide eyed, even more excited than before. 'It's a she? A woman? You have a date with a woman?'

'No, you misheard me,' I half-heartedly try, perfectly knowing she won't believe me.

'This is so awesome!' she exclaims as if she didn't hear me, shaking my arm roughly. 'Of course I had my doubts, but I'd never thought… Oh my, that's so cute! Come on, what's her name, what's she like? Can I meet her? Do I know her?'

'No you don't,' I sharply say with a terrible desire to slap myself. 'Please Serah, I just need a dress for tomorrow, I'm not here to debate about that right now.'

'Claire Farron, I won't lend you anything if you don't promise me I'll get to see her.'

I lift my eyes to the sky, unable to believe she can be this childish at times – especially critical times like this.

'You'll meet her,' I sigh heavily, crossing my little finger with hers. 'Now help me find a dress.'

For more than an hour, we look for the perfect dress, but the task is made extremely difficult both because Serah has totally different tastes from mine, and I can't seem to find one that is sexy enough, long enough, and of the right color. There is a dozen of specimens in front of my eyes and yet, none of them looks good enough for Fang. I really want to look good for her, the night just can't be special if I dress like a hobo. If only she had told me what she prefers, I wouldn't be stuck here, torturing myself for a dress that I'll wear only once anyways. Okay, I think to myself. The key is: elimination. I put the three red dresses away, along with two green ones. The blue one is definitely too short. The pink one is distasteful. The grey is so dull. The white is too girly. In the end, I have to choose between an elegant beige dress and a strict black one. And I don't really like either. This is a lost cause. Okay, I'll have to lower my expectations. Obviously, it's either gonna be the beige or the black dress. I'm sure Fang would prefer the black one, but on the other hand, black isn't really what I had in mine. I had hoped my beloved sister would enlighten me, but from the looks of things, I'm starting to wonder why I even chose to call her in the first place. Serah is not helping at all – she's been trying for long minutes to guess the name of my date, pointing absent-mindedly at dresses she perfectly knows I've already put away – and I'm beginning to feel a bit tired and bored.

Finally, I opt for the black dress, that doesn't look too morbid, fits me pretty well, and – I have to admit – shapes my ass nicely. If I add silver bracelets and a necklace, it may look rather classy. I don't know where Fang wants to take me, but it probably won't be a fast-food restaurant, so it's best to be prepared. I hang the dress on the handle of my door and gather all the other dresses in a thick pile.

'Thanks Serah,' I tell her, loudly enough to cover the names she's been uttering for too long already. 'I have what I needed. You can go home.'

'I'm not even surprised you chose that one,' she smiles, finally stopping in her litany. 'So, when will I get to see her?'

'We'll see,' I answer, pushing her in the corridor. 'Thanks for your help, really. Now I need to get prepared.'

'You know your date is only tomorrow, right?' she grins as she walks through the door. 'I wonder what woman in the world can make you so impatient.'

'Yeah, I wonder. Now come on, there are things I need to do.'

'Okay, okay, I'm leaving,' she whines, disappointed that I didn't give her a name. 'See you next week then. And I want to meet her!'

'You will, for Etro's sake,' I tell her, exasperated. 'Thanks again, and good night.'

'Yeah, good night to you too. Though I take it you won't sleep much!'

I shrug and close the door, and I realize she's right. I definitely won't get much sleep tonight.