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finalfantasyxivfanworks2018-12-04 06:51 pm
steppechild) wrote in finalfantasyxivfanworks2018-12-04 06:51 pm
Entry tags:
Ficlet: Saving Time
Title: Saving Time
Characters: Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel
Rating: T
Warning: Mentions of anxiety, nightmares
Aza abruptly woke up.
There was a moment of disorientation, a split second where he blinked rapidly at the dark ceiling, his heart thumping somewhere in the hollow of his throat as the sheets stuck to his sweaty skin. Ah, he thought groggily, forcing his tense body to relax by increments until he was all but boneless against the bed, a nightmare.
“Damn it…” he mumbled, carefully prodding at the wobbly feeling in his gut before boxing it up and shoving it down, out of mind. His eyes were itchy with sleep, and he squeezed them shut, rolling over and scooting towards the warm weight beside him. Aymeric, the handsome bastard, was still obliviously snoozing away – which was fine. Aza hated waking him up because his brain was a self-sabotaging piece of shit, but there was still that selfish little spark that wanted Aymeric to murmur comforting things to him, like he did whenever Aza had his nightmares, maybe cuddle for a bit until he felt better and-
Ugh. That sounded needy even in his head.
Aza sat up at that, puffing his fringe out of his face. The orange haze of the streetlights seeped between the crack in their curtains, a thin line cutting through their bedroom and over the foot of their bed. Aza’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, though, and he glanced over at his partner to see Aymeric flat out asleep on his belly, his head turned away and his arms tucked under the pillow, his shoulders slowly rising and falling with each slow, deep breath.
Aza had ended up hogging the bed covers, as per usual, so he carefully draped them back over Aymeric, tucking him in, before silently slipping out of bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now, and he wasn’t going to lie there bored and restless. No, no, he should do something productive, useful, instead of wasting it staring the ceiling.
The bedroom was a little chilly, so Aza grabbed one of Aymeric’s ridiculously fluffy bathrobes and bundled up in it, uncaring of how the hem dragged along the floor as he padded to the bathroom. May as well get a head start on freshening up for the day.
Half an hour later, Aza ended up in the living room on the floor, his adventuring gear and armour laid out neatly before him as he slowly, sleepily, lazily, inspected it.
He had a job lined up for this morning, a simple extermination contract to cull those giant worms near Camp Cloudtop. They’d spilled over from Voor Sian Siran, had some kind of population boom or something, and it was straining the Ishgardians stationed out there. Aza didn’t really like fighting giant worms – they were incredibly gross and slobbered everywhere – but Aymeric had asked for his help, said it would free up the knights to spend the time on more important tasks, such as improving relations with the Vanu Vanu or corralling those wild dodos into semi-domesticated livestock (good luck with that).
Aza didn’t really care much about the knights, but unloading Aymeric’s plate a bit, he cared about that a great deal.
Inspecting his gear was such dull work though, no matter how necessary, so he always put it off until the last minute. Even now his mind was elsewhere, drifting off as he held his breastplate between his hands, his fingers smoothing over the thin pits and scratches over the darkened metal. There was just something comfortable like this – half-curled up against the sofa, Aymeric’s bathrobe bundled tight around him, warm, sleepy, safe, knowing that when he wanted to, he could crawl back into bed and snuggle up against his partner once his pre-adventuring work was done. It was so domestic and lovely, it made his stomach squirm in a way that was probably medically unhealthy.
He was still getting used to it. There were days where he’d stop, sit down and wonder how the fuck it was even a thing. Aymeric knew how much of a fucking disaster he was, beneath the glossy veneer of the Warrior of Light, but still he saw something worthwhile in there, amongst the trauma, crippling anxiety and petty, childish fears. Aza didn’t have to continuously do amazing feats or succeed to hold Aymeric’s respect and interest. The man liked him for being… him, which was worrying because Aza wasn’t a very good person when it came down to it.
He set his breastplate aside at that thought, knowing he wasn’t going to get this done. So much for saving time in the morning…
He went back to bed, leaving his adventuring gear strewn across the living room floor. Their bed was still warm and inviting when he crawled back into it, the bathrobe left half-draped over the edge of the mattress as he squirmed close to Aymeric’s side, resting his hand on the small of his back and listening to his partner breathe, soft and slow and deep, and soaking up his warmth like a flower turning its face to the sun.
“Mm,” Aymeric stirred then, though his eyes didn’t open, and he made a soft, vague noise in the back of his throat might’ve been ‘Aza’ or ‘what’.
“S’just me,” Aza murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles on Aymeric’s lower back, “Go back to sleep.”
Aymeric did, proving he probably hadn’t even been fully awake. Aza gently patted his lower back and rested his forehead against his partner’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. So much for being productive, huh? He couldn’t bring himself to be disgruntled at his own lack of discipline, though. Truth be told, wasting time snuggling against a sleeping Aymeric was leagues better than going through the dull, boring routine of inspecting his equipment hours before he had to. He was gonna do it in the morning anyways, so whatever. No biggie.
With that, he finally settled into – not quite a doze, but something close to it, deep and comfortable, until dawn broke on the horizon and the morning officially began.
Characters: Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel
Rating: T
Warning: Mentions of anxiety, nightmares
Aza abruptly woke up.
There was a moment of disorientation, a split second where he blinked rapidly at the dark ceiling, his heart thumping somewhere in the hollow of his throat as the sheets stuck to his sweaty skin. Ah, he thought groggily, forcing his tense body to relax by increments until he was all but boneless against the bed, a nightmare.
“Damn it…” he mumbled, carefully prodding at the wobbly feeling in his gut before boxing it up and shoving it down, out of mind. His eyes were itchy with sleep, and he squeezed them shut, rolling over and scooting towards the warm weight beside him. Aymeric, the handsome bastard, was still obliviously snoozing away – which was fine. Aza hated waking him up because his brain was a self-sabotaging piece of shit, but there was still that selfish little spark that wanted Aymeric to murmur comforting things to him, like he did whenever Aza had his nightmares, maybe cuddle for a bit until he felt better and-
Ugh. That sounded needy even in his head.
Aza sat up at that, puffing his fringe out of his face. The orange haze of the streetlights seeped between the crack in their curtains, a thin line cutting through their bedroom and over the foot of their bed. Aza’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, though, and he glanced over at his partner to see Aymeric flat out asleep on his belly, his head turned away and his arms tucked under the pillow, his shoulders slowly rising and falling with each slow, deep breath.
Aza had ended up hogging the bed covers, as per usual, so he carefully draped them back over Aymeric, tucking him in, before silently slipping out of bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now, and he wasn’t going to lie there bored and restless. No, no, he should do something productive, useful, instead of wasting it staring the ceiling.
The bedroom was a little chilly, so Aza grabbed one of Aymeric’s ridiculously fluffy bathrobes and bundled up in it, uncaring of how the hem dragged along the floor as he padded to the bathroom. May as well get a head start on freshening up for the day.
Half an hour later, Aza ended up in the living room on the floor, his adventuring gear and armour laid out neatly before him as he slowly, sleepily, lazily, inspected it.
He had a job lined up for this morning, a simple extermination contract to cull those giant worms near Camp Cloudtop. They’d spilled over from Voor Sian Siran, had some kind of population boom or something, and it was straining the Ishgardians stationed out there. Aza didn’t really like fighting giant worms – they were incredibly gross and slobbered everywhere – but Aymeric had asked for his help, said it would free up the knights to spend the time on more important tasks, such as improving relations with the Vanu Vanu or corralling those wild dodos into semi-domesticated livestock (good luck with that).
Aza didn’t really care much about the knights, but unloading Aymeric’s plate a bit, he cared about that a great deal.
Inspecting his gear was such dull work though, no matter how necessary, so he always put it off until the last minute. Even now his mind was elsewhere, drifting off as he held his breastplate between his hands, his fingers smoothing over the thin pits and scratches over the darkened metal. There was just something comfortable like this – half-curled up against the sofa, Aymeric’s bathrobe bundled tight around him, warm, sleepy, safe, knowing that when he wanted to, he could crawl back into bed and snuggle up against his partner once his pre-adventuring work was done. It was so domestic and lovely, it made his stomach squirm in a way that was probably medically unhealthy.
He was still getting used to it. There were days where he’d stop, sit down and wonder how the fuck it was even a thing. Aymeric knew how much of a fucking disaster he was, beneath the glossy veneer of the Warrior of Light, but still he saw something worthwhile in there, amongst the trauma, crippling anxiety and petty, childish fears. Aza didn’t have to continuously do amazing feats or succeed to hold Aymeric’s respect and interest. The man liked him for being… him, which was worrying because Aza wasn’t a very good person when it came down to it.
He set his breastplate aside at that thought, knowing he wasn’t going to get this done. So much for saving time in the morning…
He went back to bed, leaving his adventuring gear strewn across the living room floor. Their bed was still warm and inviting when he crawled back into it, the bathrobe left half-draped over the edge of the mattress as he squirmed close to Aymeric’s side, resting his hand on the small of his back and listening to his partner breathe, soft and slow and deep, and soaking up his warmth like a flower turning its face to the sun.
“Mm,” Aymeric stirred then, though his eyes didn’t open, and he made a soft, vague noise in the back of his throat might’ve been ‘Aza’ or ‘what’.
“S’just me,” Aza murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles on Aymeric’s lower back, “Go back to sleep.”
Aymeric did, proving he probably hadn’t even been fully awake. Aza gently patted his lower back and rested his forehead against his partner’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. So much for being productive, huh? He couldn’t bring himself to be disgruntled at his own lack of discipline, though. Truth be told, wasting time snuggling against a sleeping Aymeric was leagues better than going through the dull, boring routine of inspecting his equipment hours before he had to. He was gonna do it in the morning anyways, so whatever. No biggie.
With that, he finally settled into – not quite a doze, but something close to it, deep and comfortable, until dawn broke on the horizon and the morning officially began.