My Canary... Mine.
folder
Final Fantasy Games › Final Fantasy IX
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,288
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy Games › Final Fantasy IX
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,288
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy IX, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Why, Canary...why?
A/N: Thanks again for the reviews guys! Sorry I took my time, but to make up for it I've been building up to some slightly more consensual action next chapter. Genome love! :D
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When he awoke, Kuja did not have to remind himself that Zidane was there. He suspected that his companion might have awoken in a state of utter confusion before remembering where he was, and whose arm was pressing him against their chest.
But Kuja had slept in stages through the night, rising from visions of an eerie, pale blue light, only to see Zidane there and be consoled back into his dreams. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was sure it was morning despite being in a darkened room. Burying his face in Zidane’s hair, he pulled the boy towards him. “Are you awake?”
There was no reply. His breathing rhythm didn’t even flutter. Kuja smiled, although not hearing a response had made his heart sink a little. Sinking back against the warm pillow, he felt as though he could wait for a little while until Zidane woke up. Then... who knows how they could spend a day together...
...But how long would Zidane sleep for?
...Thinking of what they could be doing...
...He should just let the boy sleep.
...Yes.
...“I’m not very good at doing what I should,” Kuja mused silently, knowing he could not and would not be patient. He pulled himself upright, hoping to steal this moment to gaze at the blond’s face, but almost as though he had done it out of spite, Zidane had pulled the blankets up to almost completely hide his face, with strands of hair obscuring the rest. Kuja frowned moodily, planning a rude awakening for his lover. Sliding the blankets down a little, he gently placed his hands on Zidane’s waist. The young genome shifted as the covers were removed, but continued to sleep as the other began to squeeze his hips gently.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “No... don’t stop...” he started to smile in his sleep. The older genome tried not to laugh. “I have no intention of stopping,” he whispered, grinning.
Zidane writhed a little, still smiling, his lips moving but no sound coming out. Kuja wondered what dreams he was chasing.
Then he brought his hands crashing down on Zidane’s waist, tickling him viciously until the young blond screamed and leapt forward into his waiting arms.
“Good morning!” Kuja greeted him. “No,” Zidane snapped.
“My, you are ill-tempered in the mornings,” Kuja sighed. “Breakfast?”
Zidane, slowly recovering from the shock, threw himself back down on the bed with a frustrated groan. “You’re right.” Kuja nodded. “Breakfast can wait.”
Leaning over, he nuzzled against Zidane’s neck, putting one arm across his chest and effectively pinning him.
“Hey! What d’you think you’re doing?!” Zidane shoved him angrily. “Give me a chance to wake up, you fiend!”
Kuja pouted slightly. “Not a good night’s sleep, I take it?”
“Waking up next to a mass murderer not the ideal start to the day,” was the sharp retort.
One of their trademark awkward silences ruled the palace again. Kuja wondered if Zidane knew how much those words could hurt. They were true, but... hearing them from him was different. It seemed that his young friend really did care about total strangers in a way that he himself had never learnt to.
“Why are you so cheerful anyway?” The grumpy voice intruded on Kuja’s dark thoughts with a hint of curiosity. “I can stop if you want,” he replied, shrugging half-heartedly.
“Didn’t mean that,” the younger boy yawned, stretching out in such a tempting way...
“Gonna let us go today?”
Ugh. Kuja’s delicious thoughts suddenly became grey again.
“One day? Is that all you can bear me for?” he snapped. Why had Zidane had to mention leaving? It had completely ruined his mood.
“You can’t expect me to have forgotten about my friends – or to have forgiven you,” the blond said quietly. Kuja considered that. No, he supposed he didn’t deserve forgiveness yet. But he did have his plans, and complete faith in himself.
“Your friends are being cared for,” he said shortly.
Silence. How he hated silence.
Pressure on his wrist alerted him to senses other than sound (or lack thereof). A warm hand was curling around his wrist, and the blond was tilting his head inquistively. “Is there... what’s the... Is something up?” Zidane finally asked.
“Would you care?” Kuja responded like lightning.
“Yes,” was the stout reply.
‘He means that,’ Kuja thought, utterly astounded. “The thought of an empty palace is not a pleasing concept...” he offered as an explanation.
“...I’m still here. You know, for now,” Zidane stuttered. Kuja’s clouded eyes met his clear ones, and they looked at each other, both frowning slightly.
'There’s more than meets the eye here...' the genome thought.
________________________________________________________________________________________
When he awoke, Kuja did not have to remind himself that Zidane was there. He suspected that his companion might have awoken in a state of utter confusion before remembering where he was, and whose arm was pressing him against their chest.
But Kuja had slept in stages through the night, rising from visions of an eerie, pale blue light, only to see Zidane there and be consoled back into his dreams. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was sure it was morning despite being in a darkened room. Burying his face in Zidane’s hair, he pulled the boy towards him. “Are you awake?”
There was no reply. His breathing rhythm didn’t even flutter. Kuja smiled, although not hearing a response had made his heart sink a little. Sinking back against the warm pillow, he felt as though he could wait for a little while until Zidane woke up. Then... who knows how they could spend a day together...
...But how long would Zidane sleep for?
...Thinking of what they could be doing...
...He should just let the boy sleep.
...Yes.
...“I’m not very good at doing what I should,” Kuja mused silently, knowing he could not and would not be patient. He pulled himself upright, hoping to steal this moment to gaze at the blond’s face, but almost as though he had done it out of spite, Zidane had pulled the blankets up to almost completely hide his face, with strands of hair obscuring the rest. Kuja frowned moodily, planning a rude awakening for his lover. Sliding the blankets down a little, he gently placed his hands on Zidane’s waist. The young genome shifted as the covers were removed, but continued to sleep as the other began to squeeze his hips gently.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “No... don’t stop...” he started to smile in his sleep. The older genome tried not to laugh. “I have no intention of stopping,” he whispered, grinning.
Zidane writhed a little, still smiling, his lips moving but no sound coming out. Kuja wondered what dreams he was chasing.
Then he brought his hands crashing down on Zidane’s waist, tickling him viciously until the young blond screamed and leapt forward into his waiting arms.
“Good morning!” Kuja greeted him. “No,” Zidane snapped.
“My, you are ill-tempered in the mornings,” Kuja sighed. “Breakfast?”
Zidane, slowly recovering from the shock, threw himself back down on the bed with a frustrated groan. “You’re right.” Kuja nodded. “Breakfast can wait.”
Leaning over, he nuzzled against Zidane’s neck, putting one arm across his chest and effectively pinning him.
“Hey! What d’you think you’re doing?!” Zidane shoved him angrily. “Give me a chance to wake up, you fiend!”
Kuja pouted slightly. “Not a good night’s sleep, I take it?”
“Waking up next to a mass murderer not the ideal start to the day,” was the sharp retort.
One of their trademark awkward silences ruled the palace again. Kuja wondered if Zidane knew how much those words could hurt. They were true, but... hearing them from him was different. It seemed that his young friend really did care about total strangers in a way that he himself had never learnt to.
“Why are you so cheerful anyway?” The grumpy voice intruded on Kuja’s dark thoughts with a hint of curiosity. “I can stop if you want,” he replied, shrugging half-heartedly.
“Didn’t mean that,” the younger boy yawned, stretching out in such a tempting way...
“Gonna let us go today?”
Ugh. Kuja’s delicious thoughts suddenly became grey again.
“One day? Is that all you can bear me for?” he snapped. Why had Zidane had to mention leaving? It had completely ruined his mood.
“You can’t expect me to have forgotten about my friends – or to have forgiven you,” the blond said quietly. Kuja considered that. No, he supposed he didn’t deserve forgiveness yet. But he did have his plans, and complete faith in himself.
“Your friends are being cared for,” he said shortly.
Silence. How he hated silence.
Pressure on his wrist alerted him to senses other than sound (or lack thereof). A warm hand was curling around his wrist, and the blond was tilting his head inquistively. “Is there... what’s the... Is something up?” Zidane finally asked.
“Would you care?” Kuja responded like lightning.
“Yes,” was the stout reply.
‘He means that,’ Kuja thought, utterly astounded. “The thought of an empty palace is not a pleasing concept...” he offered as an explanation.
“...I’m still here. You know, for now,” Zidane stuttered. Kuja’s clouded eyes met his clear ones, and they looked at each other, both frowning slightly.
'There’s more than meets the eye here...' the genome thought.