Sice was already having a day.

Between fighting off a rogue l'Cie that had decided today was the day to start monologuing like a theater major with a grudge, and losing her lunch to a stray Firaga, she was not in the mood for anything weird.

And yet.

Here she was, hiding behind a stack of crates, watching Seven—calm, deadly, and deeply mistaken—approach with the expression of someone about to make a heartfelt confession. Which would've been fine. If it wasn't so deeply, irreversibly wrong.

Sice inhaled through her nose. "Okay. I can fix this. I can fix this."

"Fix what?" Seven asked sweetly, rounding the corner.

Sice yelped, smacking her head against the crates. "Gah—Don't sneak up like that!"

"You're the one hiding behind boxes," Seven pointed out, leaning casually against the wall. Her voice was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Planning another dramatic love letter?"

Sice groaned.

Not this again.

"For the last time," Sice said, standing up and brushing dust off her uniform, "that letter was for Kurasame! Not you! I was thanking him for helping me not flunk out of Summon Theory!"

Seven's head tilted. "So… 'Your voice cuts through my chaos like a blade of clarity'… was about Kurasame?"

"Yes!" Sice barked, cheeks flaring. "He gives motivational speeches like he's a philosophical death poet, I got caught up, okay?"

Seven looked entirely unbothered. "You do know Kurasame's frog has more game than he does, right?"

"That's not the point!" Sice growled.

"But then," Seven mused, touching her chin like she was considering a new type of enemy weakness, "why did you draw a little skull with hearts around it at the bottom?"

"IT'S MY SIGNATURE."

Seven smiled knowingly. "Mmhmm."

Sice considered just yelling into the void.

Or throwing her scythe into the next dimension.

Or both.

"Listen, Seven. I'm not in love with you. I don't like you like that. You are emotionally constipated, impossible to read, and once tried to cut a Behemoth in half during a group project when it literally wasn't attacking us."

"That Behemoth was giving me a weird look."

"IT WAS BLIND."

Seven crossed her arms, giving a wistful sigh. "I just wonder… how Hope and Lightning would feel about me dating someone so brash."

Sice's eye twitched. "They're not even your real parents, Seven. That's just a headcanon you made up because you both have silver hair and the same moody stare."

"My aesthetic lineage matters, Sice."

"No. No it does not."

"And I bet Lightning would interrogate you with a gunblade while Hope brings me juice boxes and asks if we're using protection."

"WHAT THE—" Sice nearly choked on her own spit. "I'M NOT—I DON'T EVEN—SEVEN!"

"Relax," Seven said, smirking now, "I'd tell them we were taking it slow."

Sice made a strangled noise that could've summoned Odin. "We're not taking anything!"

At that moment, the Academy alarm blared, followed by an automated voice:
"CODE ORANGE. MANTICORE ON THE LOOSE IN THE TRAINING YARD. ALL AVAILABLE CADETS TO REPORT IMMEDIATELY."

Sice groaned again. "Good. Something I can hit."

As they sprinted toward the yard, Seven kept pace easily, twirling her whipblade like a baton. "If we survive, want to go get coffee and aggressively deny our feelings in public?"

"I don't have feelings to deny!"

"Perfect," Seven said, as they launched into battle. "I love honesty in a girlfriend."

The Manticore roared.

Sice roared louder.

After the fight, they collapsed on a bench outside the yard, bruised, sweaty, and covered in monster goo.

"You're insane," Sice muttered, wiping gunk off her boots.

Seven leaned her head back and grinned. "Only for you."

"SHUT. UP."

"You're blushing."

"It's battle flush."

"You're cute when you're flustered."

Sice stood up so fast she nearly toppled over. "I'm telling Kurasame. You're being a menace."

Seven raised a hand. "Make sure to include hearts and skulls this time."

"AAAAAARGH!"