Warmth

Rated: T

Story Summary: With Clive fallen ill and the three weary travelers stuck in a small cabin in a hellish blizzard, Jill does whatever she can to keep Clive warm enough to weather this storm.

Welp. FF16 has taken over my life this past week. I'm a little past the halfway point of the game and I'm here at the edge of my seat waiting to see what happens next. This is a scene taking place in those five lost years after Cid was murdered.

I'm staying away from all forms of social media to avoid spoilers so you leave me a comment I probably won't see it until after I finish the game. XD

This fict is pure self indulgence because Clive has no right to be so handsome. T_T Why do all these Final Fantasy bois gotta be so damn fine?!

Clive was shivering something awful.

Bare chest heaving with raspy labored breaths, cheeks a ruddy red and the sweat lining his brow only seemed to increase as the hour grew long. The sun slowly fading from its perch in the cloud-ridden sky to bring upon more of the dreaded chill that refused to leave.

Jill only grew more worried as the stubborn man refused to allow her to leave and find treatment.

Fists clenched at her side as the harsh strands of ice continued plummeting rapidly from the sky. "Oh, damn it all…" she muttered under her breath. Crystalline blue eyes peering through the wooden slats of the boarded windows and upon cascade of white snow surrounding the small cabin they deemed best to take shelter. Now the door was frozen shut and would stay that way for awhile it seemed.

Being Shiva's Dominant, the blessing and curse it was, made it so she felt little of the chill around her - but Clive wasn't as fortunate.

Torgal's soft whines drew her attention back to Clive's sickbed. That loyal wolf friend lay across the lower end of the bed, nestled across Clive's legs, the dog making sure to keep his feet warm where the blankets they scavenged were the most threadbare.

"It's alright, Torgal…" Clive spoke, his voice weak and raspy with the sickness that had been plaguing him for the past few days. "I'm alright…" he continued, bare fingers leaving the comfort of the furs to reach for Torgal's head. The dog more than happy to nuzzle against his outstretched hand and accept the affection.

Jill bristled when she noticed the uncharacteristic tremors in those strong fingers.

Clive was shivering terribly…

Torgal seemed indifferent, merely licking at Clive's outstretched hand before gently lying his large head across his stomach and closing his large golden eyes. Jill's eyes spent far too long locked on those trembling fingers as they weaved ever so gently through the now slumbering wolf's fur.

"I'm alright, Jill…" Clive's voice took her by surprise. Her eyes meeting the deep sea blue of his own. Strands of sweat soaked hair sticking to his face as he still found the strength to give her one of those painfully rare smiles.

Jill huffed regardless of that warmth that smile left in her chest, "Could've fooled me."

Clive's thick lips were set in a pout that she ignored. Allowing the anger at him to simmer. He'd been showing symptoms of a sickness for days. Coughing, sniffling, sweating, and even slight lethargy as they made their way through the snowy paths. The thing about Clive is he hid it all so remarkably well…and he remained as stubborn as a bloody arse. Refusing to go brave a small town in hopes of finding a remedy or medicine to at least get rid of the symptoms.

Clive refused until the could get the surgery to remove his Bearers Mark.

Tired of arguing about it, Jill obeyed and they kept traveling.

Everything seemed alright until that point. Clive was merely quiet with the barest hint of color on his cheeks when out of nowhere, he collapsed into a snowy embankment. No word, no grunt, nothing. As if he was a puppet that suddenly had all his strings cut.

Jill hadn't felt terror such as that for over a decade…

After Cid's passing only a year prior, any illness or wound that beset anyone she cared about scared her to death. So worried was she of losing someone else…

And when Clive fell to the ground…

Jill could never bear to lose Clive again…once was way more than enough…

Torgal barked, biting at Clive's pauldrons and her relief upon finding her dear companion breathing tore a sob from her chest. Jill was forced to find shelter as Torgal carried Clive's unresponsive form on his back. The blizzard raging around them, the bitter cold biting against their cheeks as Clive's fever climbed all the higher. It was only by some miracle she'd found that small cabin hidden amongst the thick trees and were able to barricade themselves inside.

That was nearly a full day ago…

Jill bit her lip to stop it from trembling as she tore her eyes away from Clive's kicked-puppy expression. Holding on to anger at how little he viewed his own health…Did he not know how much he meant to her? To everyone who knew him? To the cause that would surely die with his own passing?

"...I'm sorry, my lady…" Clive's voice was so raspy and worn, the term he called her from her childhood the softest endearment he'd ever said. And that was all it took.

Jill's anger fled instantly.

Not being able to stay away from him any longer, Jill stepped away from the window. Feet carrying her swiftly to his bedside, crossed arms slipping to her sides instead as she graced him with a wane smile.

"Apology accepted…" she sighed, her hand hesitating for only a second before she ever so carefully brushed back his sweaty bangs.

Shiva's frost leeching from her fingertips to hopefully cool Ifrit's flame boiling upon his forehead. The dark-haired man let out a sigh at her cooling touch, pushing himself further into it as well as nestling further into the blankets and she couldn't help the smile that slipped onto her lips.

Clive had been so painfully shy even as a teenager. Any casual touch she bestowed upon him greeted with reddened cheeks and swift apologies. It was wonderful to see so much of that boy she grew up with still contained in this weary man with way too much weight balancing on his broad shoulders. But yet as of late, Clive allowed her touch and even initiated it at times. Allowing himself to open up to a touch that shouldn't hurt and she was more than happy to oblige.

The smile on her face fell quickly though when Clive suddenly pulled away, his bitter coughing fit taking him as he pushed his mouth against his trembling hands to lessen the sound.

Jill bit her lip. Feeling so unbelievably helpless as she watched the man she cared for so much suffering, wondering what if anything she could do to help him. To at least relieve him of any pain as his body valiantly fought off the illness.

Coughing seeming to calm, Clive's shivering began anew even as she sat on the side of the bed. Leather clad thighs pressing against his bare shoulders providing not nearly enough warmth even as Torgal's full weight and fur lay upon Clive's lower half. His clothes wet and sodden and laying upon a strung up line to dry out the leather as best as they could from his fall in the snow. They had packed no other clothing he could wear so she had little choice than to strip him of the wet garments and hoped the blankets they scavenged in the abandoned cabin would suffice.

Yet it didn't seem to be enough…

Jill couldn't just sit here, she had to do something.

Standing up, Jill made her way to the fireplace. Throwing in a few more branches she'd cut down earlier and stoked the flames and wood with a poker. The ashes and embers glowing, fire illuminating the small cabin and hopefully suffusing it with enough warmth to keep Clive alive.

Yet he still shivered, his bare body trembling like a leaf under the threadbare blankets. No other options lay around as the wind screeched against the wooden cabin, threatening to tear it down under the blizzard outside. Jill bit back the call of Shiva knowing Clive needed warmth more than ever and the ice queen living inside her would be of no help now. If only Ifrit would listen to Clive's call but she worried Clive may turn to ash with that sort of heat Ifrit offered…

Jill pulled at her leather gloves, a nervous habit she'd picked up as of late…and debated with herself.

The things she'd experienced those thirteen damned years, being taken advantage of and controlled in more ways than she'd ever care to remember… She'd felt so dirty all the time now. So unclean to ever touch another kind soul. The blood and viscera staining her hands, the sweat of men who took and took from her carved under her fingernails. So many years she'd dreaded the touch of men…until Clive walked into that infirmary back at the Hideaway and she'd felt safe for the first time in over a decade.

Clive had spared her - had saved her…this was the least she could do for him now…

Glancing back at Clive, her mind was made up.

Ever so quickly, she undressed. Boots, Sword, the leather gauntlets and plates, her dreaded corset and all the layers of clothes taken off and folded on a nearby table until she felt nothing against her but the warmth of the fire shimmering across her bare pale skin. The shadow of nude her body hovering over where Clive fitfully tried to sleep under those meager blankets and Torgal's fur.

Fists clenching as she steeled herself for what she was about to do, she walked to his bedside on silent bare feet. Swiftly pulling up the covers and ignoring Clive's questioning sleepy mumble, she slid into bed naked beside him.

Immediately, Clive Rosfield of Rosaria stiffened like a cadaver.

Jill, ignoring his plight and questioning mutters, wrapped one arm under the back of his neck and the other strewn across the barrel of his chest. Head nestled comfortably on his thickly muscled shoulder as her breast flattened across his, belly pressed against his hip as her leg slipped over his thigh as much as possible with Torgal's perch, which was probably for the best given Clive's (and her) state of undress. Making sure to press every inch of their skin together to give him the warmth he so desperately needed.

Seconds, minutes, perhaps millennia passed in that small cabin before Clive's muscles finally relaxed. Becoming more soft and supple against the gentle press of her hands and body across his once fiercely trembling flesh. The shivering that was wracking his form ever so slowly began to abate as the warmth of her skin melded into his own. Clive's breaths came slower and more relaxed and where once his flesh was as cold as Shiva's ice soon warmed pleasantly from every point they touched and soon suffused to the rest of him.

However much time passed, it may have taken longer before Jill felt brave enough to lift her head up to look at his face.

Looking at him this close, Jill could count every single one of his thick black lashes. Could see the reflection of firelight shining flickering orange and red shades into the deep expansive sea blue. Could witness just how many scars littered his handsome face. She couldn't recall being this close to anyone before - it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

"Jill?" his breath was so warm on her cheek and she smelt the soft tinge of the wildflower honey and black tea that she'd forced him to drink copious amounts of earlier to stave off some of his symptoms. All his soft breath and the tender way he said her name was doing to her now was making her head spin.

Lost in his eyes and the gentle look on his face, Jill could do little more than mutter, "Hmm?"

There was a million and one things Clive could have said, have asked, but all that left his lips was a soft, "Thank you…"

Jill didn't reply.

Merely watched as he gave her a sleepy smile that didn't fade until his eyes slid shut and he fell into a much needed deep sleep. His body finally being pulled into that black abyss to give himself the much needed time to heal and rest properly. Something he did way too little of.

Once she was certain he wouldn't wake up, ever so gently, Jill slid her hand up his chest. Mindlessly brushing through the soft scattering of hair on his sternum and over the prominent scar on his left pec, she lifted her hand to his face. Cupping his cheek and pushing his bangs away from his forehead, Jill sighed in pure relief upon feeling the fever that was ravaging him earlier was now diminishing.

Resting her head back down on his shoulder, Jill couldn't help but lean forward and press her lips to the Bearer's mark on his cheek. The bristle of his beard ticking her lips and causing an involuntary chuckle to leave her mouth. The sound causing Torgal to grumble a bit in his sleep and readjusted to where his weight was now over her legs as well.

Seems she wasn't going anywhere - not that she planned to.

Content in knowing Clive was going to be alright, Jill nestled close to him, nose brushing against his pulse as she followed him into sleep.