[ Tseng glances at her sidelong, suggesting her remark has landed somewhere within. ] Determination is an asset—when it's not working against me. [ This could pass for humor if it weren’t so meticulously subdued. Her request lingers, just so in a way that suggests Tseng might end up dismissing it outright once more. There's still a practiced stillness to him that, after everything, might still fool anyone not sitting in the car. ]
This isn't a leisurely drive, Aerith. [ He could very well leave it at that, but Tseng's tone tempers the potential finality of it. Stopping at the aforementioned bakery would seem small concession, but... ] Maybe another time.
[ Under different circumstances, like following unseen again. It’s not quite an apology, nor is it entirely an offer, but as if he's said all he can allow himself to, Tseng doesn't elaborate on the rules or remind her of who decided upon them in the first place, either. Of course, a ripple of intuition makes him wonder if her insistence is more than whim. A gut feeling, unspoken and unformed. The way the streets wind need no reminding of his that they're closer to her house than elsewhere, anyway. ]
my own top level? i just live in your open now i guess
[ It can, and does pass for humor – at least to Aerith, who responds to that comment about determination with a laugh and a self-satisfied smile. That expression hardly falters, even as Tseng follows up what she's choosing to take as a compliment with gently shutting her second suggestion of a stop down. ]
You're going to regret it when we have to go all the way back to the bar.
[ She's got to purse her lips a bit to stop from smirking as she turns to look at him, her shoulders rolling in an easy shrug as she fights the urge to narrow her eyes and end up looking too triumphant. ]
I forgot my scarf.
[ Aerith wants to believe he'll wave it off as her being a pest, rather than a deliberate move to spend more time riding around in his car and not going home. All things considered, Aerith almost wishes she could do the same. It's safer and more sensible than quietly pulling a shrewd stunt like this. ]
you do, do you want some slippers, something to drink?
[ Tseng's expression barely shifts, but there’s a subtle lift to his brow. He lets silence settle deliberately this time, moments during which Tseng thinks she's hoping to be dismissed by him as forgetful rather than calculating. Much kinder than a pest. Truthfully, he can’t say for certain which it is—he isn’t a mind reader. He doesn’t need to be. He knows her well enough, their history stretching far too long for her intentions to be entirely opaque. ]
You forgot your scarf.
[ He repeats it, dryly. He feels the corner tightening around him, and that's one of the hardest things to stand. The point of escorting her home was to ensure she stayed there—not to have her doubling back alone. Tseng pulls the car to the side of the road. The doors are still locked all around. His eyes shift to Aerith, less sharp and unmistakably weary. He doesn't bother concealing it. ]
Alright. [ There’s no fanfare in his response, resigned but firm. Tseng steers the car into a tight turn, heading back the way they came. His focus is on the road ahead...back, but from the corner of his eye, he watches her. ]
[ Indignance flares in the face of his exasperation, although for the time being Aerith manages to keep that rise of annoyance tamped down and tucked away, save for the newfound sharpness lingering at the corners of her eyes when she narrows them. The duality of her motivations is particularly odd one – the greedy want to stall, to prolong, to give herself another hour to steal glances in his direction, and the obstinance that begs to point out that if certain giant companies could just back off and let her have her own life, the whereabouts of her scarf wouldn't be anyone else's problem but her own.
However rankled, she still straightens in her seat after Tseng pulls the car over to send a tired, annoyed, look in her direction before turning the vehicle back around. The softer side of her decision dims like her sense of enjoyment from stealing more of his time, and Aerith huffs audibly as her gaze returns to the view ahead, aware he's still looking and grimacing doubly so because of it. She's the Ancient, the Asset, and Tseng is only here to make sure her value to Shinra doesn't depreciate on account of a little peril, not because he wants to be. ]
It's a safe trip.
[ They both know why she points that out, just like they both must know it's pointless. Tseng would never willingly drive away and leave her if he thought she would head right back out again once he did. Settling back against the seat, she crosses her arms, not bothering to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. ]
[ He catches the edge in her narrowed eyes even at this angled view, obstinacy cloaked in politeness. Her huff is layered, and Tseng knows better than to dismiss it as simple annoyance. The air in the car thickens to something acrid quickly in their silence, even though it had just been made so sweet with the wind of her healing. His weariness seeps in, clouding his thoughts with half-buried truths. He wishes he could pretend her resistance is born of temporary frustration, something fleeting. Tseng stays silent for a long moment. ]
You know I can't ignore it.
[ His answer is just as redundant to be said out loud. He can't admit how often he tells himself it's not just Shinra who wants Aerith safe, or instead even claim that it is her mother's worry that drives him—tonight literally. That lie feels truly hollow and gives him no comfort. The line between concern and obligation blurs too easily when it comes to her. And the decision to speak next is also hers, as always.
His gaze drifts to the side more earnestly, but long enough to see the way she's crossed her arms against him. ]
[ A tart remark that's even more layered than the huff that preceded it, and twice as sharp. A comment she almost regrets making just as soon as the words leave her mouth. He'll see that in the mirror, should he elect to her look her way, how her eyes round, apprehensive and not without a generous dash of sadness. It's disconcerting to be upset by the thought that he's grown tired of being with her that evening, and it slips through the cracks enough to show.
Silence stretches long enough for her stomach to knot grimly as they pass beneath the long stop light without stopping. ]
Besides. [ An olive branch, not a white flag. ] You're acting like I have a curfew.
[ Her words bite, and though he's conditioned not to react outwardly, Tseng feels them lodge beneath his skin. Not readily seeking her out in the mirror, when he does, rounded eyes return him right to the moment before Aerith confessed her missing scarf. Thinking ahead, perhaps he should’ve delegated this task to Reno or Rude—to spare her his flash of frustration. Such a small thing to protect her from, but safeguarding her remains his duty in black and white
In the time he lets her remarks fully simmer, tension winds back across Tseng's shoulders. He's tired, but in a way sleep can fix, and wills the sullen look from his face as he catches his own reflection. He reaches for her olive branch. ]
You don't. [ No but, his hand, too, stays outstretched. ] Take your time to collect anything else you may have forgotten.
[ If it were anybody else, she wouldn't have been above not caring how exasperated she made him. Shinra has taken enough from Aerith that she's in the clear as far as being impolite goes. But, as he turns to face her, and she realizes how tired Tseng looks, Aerith feels just the slightest twinge of guilt drawing the evening out.
Her head bobs in a curt nod before the car door closes, and she disappears into the bar again.
Back in under five minutes with her scarf wrapped around her neck, she climbs into the car more carefully than she left. That extra note of care is explained as soon as she settles enough to pass him the cup of coffee. ] Because I bet you're not going to let me invite you to stay over and get some rest.
[ For a few minutes after waking, Aerith is too focused on trying to wrap her mind around the gentle way she can feel the mattress sinking beneath his weight, and the steady uncommonly relaxed sound of his breathing to move. There's no surprise threading its way through the intricate, but no less bright feelings that seem to swirl around her heart, but that doesn't mean she ever expected this to happen, either. Slowly – carefully – Aerith rolls onto her side, facing him, as she inwardly considers whether it was naive of her to think they'd go on forever without a breaking point ever being found and pressed on or not.
She doesn't have to look at him too long to know the answer.
Pursing her lips in a short-lived show of hesitation, one hand reaches out and settles over his before she, pauses and waits to see if he'll stir. Despite their shared state of undress, that he's gloveless is the thing that really drives the point home that this is all uncharted territory, and the thrill of it takes the uncertainty out of her expression, softening it into a look of quiet, but markedly unabashed affection.
Her hand leaves his in favor of letting her fingertips brush along the ends of his hair, unconsciously shifting nearer, crowding his space without a second thought so she can stare up at his face, indulging the piece of herself that isn't shocked by this happening in the slightest. ]
Are you awake yet? [ As warm and gentle as her voice is, Aerith can't conceal the delight in her tone, and, more to the point – she doesn't want to. It would be as impossible as trying to get the smile off of her face while she stares at him.
At Tseng.
At Tseng, undressed, and asleep in a bed where she has also been sleeping while undressed.
It should feel like a heavier issue than it does. ]
[ At first Tseng doesn’t move, and Aerith can look at him away from consciousness shaping his expression into unreadable masks. A divided part of his mind still registers everything: the warmth of her body as she inches closer, and incidentally the way her weight shifts on the slope dug by his shoulder, the light touch of her fingers. When she brushes through the ends of his hair, subtly, Tseng's lashes flicker. It's not a sudden awakening, more like a quiet acknowledgment that he's been aware for some time. His breathing deepens, and with it, he opens his eyes. Dark, calm, and focused, they meet hers.
He, also, was too aware the night before to be surprised now.
Tseng has memorized every detail of her face, presently. His gaze lingers anyway. The unguarded smile on her lips, the warmth of her gaze, the way she fills the air between them with a quiet joy are all fragments that have been shown to him. He hadn't permitted himself to touch them before.
His hand, resting between them, flexes. The leather of his gloves is harder than the skin on his fingertips. ]
I am. [ His answer offers nothing to hide behind. They'd been even more direct with each other last night.
Where the sheets slide off of her shoulder, he can see how her breasts curve away from her chest. He touches her forearm, feeling tendons stiff with the strand of his hair pinched between her fingers.
Tseng knows what he should say. That this can't happen again. That they've crossed a line neither of them can even afford to acknowledge.
But he says none of it.
His thumb brushes over her pulse, his hand wraps around her wrist. ]
soz, but, we're too busy watering our own crops to water kevin's
[ There's almost no chance they'll make it without saying all the things both of them choose to ignore. This can't happen again. They've crossed a line and – her arm relaxes under his hand as her fingers flex and curl a long strand of his hair around one of them, indulging every stupid thought and observation she's spent years making, relishing how sweet everything is on the other side of that uncrossable line.
Silent as she watches him watch her, Aerith only looks away when his fingers curve around her wrist, catching it lightly, loosely enough to allow her to slip her hand lower, until her palm settles against his, and she can lace their fingers together. ]
You looked like you were having a good sleep. [ And who cares if he knows she was watching? She spent most of last night tangled up with him, proving how much attention she's always paid, no sense in trying to play it cool now.
It's quiet, peaceful enough to make it easy to believe reality won't ever come knocking on the door, but the pale light filtering in from her window tells Aerith it's early, that there's time.
The arm resting against the mattress bends at the elbow before she presses it to the bed and uses the leverage to move very close in very little time. In a heartbeat, she's drawn close enough to usher herself into his arms and against his chest, ducking her head so it rests on his shoulder. ] Always knew you would be warmer than you looked.
[ Warm, intimate, and soft—these are all things Tseng has never considered himself to be. In the present moment, the very spaces between those words seem to stretch with the spaces between his fingers, allowing Aerith to slip between them. His grip tightens slightly around hers, his fingers curling gently over the back of her hand.
His mind, usually sharp and calculating, is occupied with unfamiliar thoughts: how long she's been watching him like this, how much she's memorized of him in ways he hadn't realized until now. He's spent years cataloging every detail of her—small, imperceptible things—but never with the awareness that not all of those details were meant for a report, or for professional detachment. Once or twice, he's seen her asleep, but the difference between then and now haunts him more than he expected.
Now the smooth glide of her skin against his ignites a quiet ache. Aerith's warmth in turn seeps deep, settling in places he didn't realize had grown cold. She fits too easily and perfectly against him, and it stirs a deep satisfaction within him. A low sound rumbles in Tseng's throat.
His free hand shifts to the small of her back, and his fingers trace up the length of her spine, ready to commit each subtle dip and curve to memory in a way that has nothing to do with duty. Tseng presses lightly, pulling her closer, letting her feel the growing tension in his body. ]
Aerith... [ Her name slips past his lips, almost like a confession. The muted glow cast across the room drapes over Aerith's skin, the morning held at bay by the gentle sway of her breathing. Tseng pauses just below her shoulder blades. ]
[ Later, she'll realize just how much of this she's committing to memory; from the soft spot below his collarbone where her cheek brushes against his skin, to the first little tingles of anticipation that ping over her senses once he pulls her close and makes it apparent he feels the same. The hands he maps her back with provide her with all the reason Aerith needs to mirror that attention, indulging the urge to run her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other curves over his shoulder blade.
He's as lean and strong to the touch as he looks, and her chest feels almost uncomfortably tight in the wake of all the affectionate warmth that seeps through it. After a moment spent flush against him and still enough to take in all the places they fit so well together, Aerith tilts her head up and lets her lips brush against his jaw, doing her best not to grin over the contact when his question shocks a laugh out of her. ]
Shouldn't you know that already? Tonight's the only time you were asleep while I looked. You couldn't have missed it every other time! [ And in the wake of his asking, Aerith can't deny that it's been many times indeed. ]
It's been a while. [ She declares gently after a moment of consideration as she draws back enough to steal a look up at his face. ] What about you, Tseng?
[ If her hands keep moving, she'll inevitably find some well-healed scar or another. Tseng’s lips press together as a subtle shift ripples through him under her caress, but there’s no trace of discomfort. His breath brushes her temple.
Tseng’s fingers touch the salted ends of her hair. His role has always demanded vigilance and restraint, but now he knows that the latter was never entirely honest. The way Aerith has changed over the years—grown into her womanhood—hasn’t gone unnoticed. Meanwhile, he’s seen and heard her laugh a dozen times, but never felt it so intently against his own skin. When she laughs he can’t help but still tighten his grip on her, his body reacts instinctively to the sound.
Tseng’s mind pulls back to every time he has watched her watch him. Was it just a consequence of noticing each other? He lingers where her waist curves under his hand. His thumb sweeps in a slow, deliberate arc beneath her breast. ]
I’ve always watched you. [ The dull explanation of his job. This isn’t what she means, though. Instead of stalling: ] Something changed that I wasn’t prepared for. Does that make sense?
[ He watches her through half-lidded eyes, sharp but softened in ways only she can manage. She should know... it’s harder to stop looking than she thinks. ]
[ Every detail etches itself deep into her memory. The warmth of his breath and the flutter of a few strands of hair tickling high on her cheekbone, what his skin feels like under her hands, all of it taking root in her imagination – a place this morning stands a high chance of living for a very long time. Aerith feels Tseng's hold tense at the sound of her laughter and almost melts into the gesture, ]
Yes. [ A hand finds its way to his face, where the pads of her fingers slowly trace over the gracefully high planes of his cheek. ] It makes sense. [ Even though when all is said and done, none of this has any business making sense, but right now the part of her that knows that doesn't seem to be present. Aerith's too preoccupied with the way his eyelashes fan out against his skin while he watches her like that, and the subsequent way her heart pounds in response. With her chest snug against his, there's no hiding that fact either.
Like common sense, it's unimportant.
The fingers against his jaw grow more sure in the way they touch him, until she's guiding his face down, as warmth creeps up the back of her neck, curving her lips into an anticipatory little smile. ]
If you keep me like this, you'll always know where I am.
[ Aerith's eyes narrow playfully before she lifts her head, drawing him into a kiss. ]
[ He left his question hanging on thin thread, Tseng realizes, after asking and just when her answer tangles it up and knots it around and around itself again, to make it seem like something more sturdy than it really is. Common sense can tug and pull and even wrench it, and still the complicated knots may never again come apart. Only every split thread of a rational thought about their case is snipped away from the tangle of their close held bodies, by her roaming touch.
Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]
[ The temperature has dropped enough in due time to produce large, falling snowflakes. A white Christmas, yet, because of the pipes and ducts winding on the plates' underside, the ground is too warm to let them hold their shape. Festive, scenic snowfall only leaves the asphalt wet, reflecting the lights strung across every street. Their warm, yellow beads compete with the pale green glow emanating from the reactors, adding a rare warmth to the mechanical city.
Aerith stopped, stood rocking on her heels and asked if this is it, standing in front of the building entrance that is, in fact, it. The entire house isn’t older, or even as old as the Gainsborough estate, and simply nestled into a street in Sector 8. Anyone might live here, like the residents in the other apartments do—like Tseng does.
Bundled in her worn but warm coat, she doesn’t look nearly so chilled as on that rainy evening. Still, Tseng can’t quite tell whether the rosy color on her cheeks results from her standing outside, or from the roguish excitement at stepping into such a reticent part of his life. He stands next to her, letting her look at the facade or guessing which windows belong to his view, or wondering if she’s just imagined something more “like him.” Or perhaps waiting for the usual stoic version of him to break into some unexpected gesture. She finally prompts him through apparent curiosity.
Tseng pushes the heavy, tall door open into a hallway where lights flicker on with motion sensors. Stairs wind up to the next floor in a semi-circle and at the far back of the hall is an elevator. Footfalls echo between plastered brick walls and the tile floor. ]
This is it. [ He says. How ordinary and unremarkable. ]
[ He didn't imply that she was spending the night, but there's a bag slung over Aerith's shoulder that's large enough to contain a change of clothes, among other thing. Then again, there's a good chance she's got nothing more on her than an assortment of festive odds and ends, ready to be placed all over his apartment – it's a matter of how far Aerith thinks she can press her luck.
Given the conspiratorially smug smile she gives him after the door swings open, allowing Aerith her first look around the inside of the place, it might be safe to say she's under the impression she can continue gaining distance from the line that's always been between them. ]
You haven't even given me a tour! How can this be it?
[ Barely suppressed amusement lights up her face when she meets his eye, smiling brightly before her attention diverts to her bag instead. She's definitely got a wreath, or a large glittery ribbon for his front door in here somewhere among the fairy lights, mistletoe, and other festive bits and pieces she's brought to stick all over his apartment. ]
What are we having for dinner tonight? [ She's already stopped to hang the wreath on his door, why not continue her tirade of audacity? ]
[ Tseng’s brow twitches, the barely noticeable reaction to her pertness, and the prospect of turning his apartment into a wonderland. Naturally, he looked in the bag, the wreath now fully in view rather than just at the edge of his vision. Up until her adorning his door with it, nothing set it apart from the others on the floor either, except for the double lock and keypad.
His fingers brush over the numbers and letters to enter the code, and a quiet click disables lock and alarm both. With a normal key, Tseng unbars the second, ordinary lock. The door itself is heavier to push open, too, if Aerith were to try it. She was right, it’s secure. A sense of obligation overrules his discomfort, and Tseng stifles a scoff very well. ] I’ll show you, then. Take your shoes off. [ He has done so. He’s set out those thin guest slippers for her.
But Tseng is a bad tour guide, and points without walking her around much. ] The bathroom and two bedrooms are on this side. The kitchen is there. Here, [ He only walks up to the largest but open door, and stands near the doorframe, hands clasped behind his back. Letting Aerith take in the space, he doesn’t quite pause his commentary, but does wait for her to catch up. ] is the living room. [ And, ] You’re welcome to look around.
[ Imagining that she would anyway, it feels better to say it first. The place is spacious and sleek, with modern appliances, and furniture in neutral colors, where the darker end of the spectrum dominates. The parquet floors help to leaven the picture. Everything looks ready to be lived in, but it’s just that. ]
You didn’t eat earlier? [ Tseng pulls an eyebrow back up and feigns the mildest case of bewilderment at her second question. They’ll have something together. ]
[ After making short work of swapping those practical boots for the cute house slippers he had waiting for her, Aerith is all too pleased to hang on every word of what might be the most concise tour in the world. Times like these, she has to wonder if he's doing it on purpose, confident in the knowledge that the more he leaves out, the more she'll want to snoop.
It's a sweet thought that she wants to be true, a notion that his invitation to look around makes easier to entertain. Already she's flipped the top of her bag open, surveying the windows of the living room like she's looking for a starting point while she shakes her head at Tseng's question. ]
Just a little snack. I'm baking you cookies later. [ Stop her. ] So I didn't eat too much. [ Well, making cookies and the cheeky, selfish urge to have dinner with him.
As she speaks, Aerith strings lights around the frame of the closest window, a bit of piney garland looped around her forearm, waiting in the wings to further adorn the space. ]
[ Tseng looks at her with his hands still clasped behind his back, already unpacking and decorating—barely waiting to finish the so-called tour. His apartment, the spartan sanctuary, is being invaded by twinkling lights and greenery. And Aerith, with a zeal he didn’t think could manifest so quickly for anyone. ]
I hope you didn’t bring a tree. [ The words come out dry, but far too late to offer up real resistance. His own curiosity comes tempered with wariness. Seeing his apartment “through her eyes” inevitably involves her sharing that vision in ways far more tangible than words. Tseng looks inside the emptying bag, confirming his suspicions. Countless times, he’s left pictures and reports of her garden and house sitting in black and white on his desk, detached and distant, before retreating here. Now, she’s brought that vibrancy along. ]
Baking? [ His tone is still even, but his expression tenses again. ] I wasn’t aware I agreed to that. [ Meaning, he didn’t. She might have mentioned it. His kitchen is intentionally understocked, yet, as ever, Tseng has a contingency plan in place. ]
Why? [ Pausing in the middle of her garland hanging, she looks over her shoulder, playfully wide-eyed despite the distinct slyness curving her smile. ] Because you want to go pick out a tree together?
[ Just as her eyes start to narrow smugly, Aerith turns and gets back to the business of decorating, returning to her bag for a coiled strand of lights destined to join the garland in his window. ]
You're better in the kitchen than I am, of course you'll have to do it. I'll supervise.
[ She plugs in the rainbow lights and steps back to admire her work, her head nodding approvingly as she hums in satisfaction. ]
I bought everything we need for cookies, and for hot cocoa. [ In true Aerith fashion, she's all too happy to keep piling things on, bit by bit. First the decor, then the cookies, then the cocoa – as much as she can get from him before Tseng puts his foot down (and potentially even after that). ]
There are lots of festive movies on the television, we could put one on after and not watch it. [ And she's off, heading to the kitchen to give the window in there the same treatment. ]
[ Tseng’s gaze sweeps over the bag again, and though he couldn’t be sure there wasn’t a tree in there. The dubious look on his face carries over to viewing the lights in the window—how would that look from down in the street?—and back to baking. ]
So, none of this was planned with my input. [ He points out, a stopgap. Tseng crosses his arms. He’s given her free rein, and that might have been premature. As she swiftly moves on from the living room, Tseng is still looking at the newly done-up space. The decorations clash with the minimalism of this place.
He watches her accessorize with a deftness that suggests she’s done it a hundred times before– She has. His pulse pitches protest to the aversion bubbling up in him, about it being done at his apartment, instead. But he thinks about the dozen or so sprigs of mistletoe hung up around her house and feels a heat climbing up the back of his neck.
Tseng’s mind, usually so focused, is now the traitor. It conjures up the image of them standing beneath one of those sprigs, a single breath away from each other, and her playful implication of “not watching” a movie, too. Waiting under the doorframe of the kitchen, his lips press into a faint line. How long can he keep up his pretense? ] Fine, I’ll grant you that.
[ His comfort and composure lie in delegating. ] You’re responsible for the cocoa, though.
Of course it was. Do you tell people what you're going to buy them when you get them gifts? [ Aerith blinks at him in surprise before dismissing the question with a gentle shake of her head. ] This is just part of your gift, Tseng.
[ Still, she can tell he's still relaxing into the idea she's all but burst into his home and began enacting, so she nods more than amiably when he tasks her with the cocoa, bouncing on the balls of her feet once as her hands clasp in front of her. ] You're on. Let's do cocoa and a movie first, then cookies later. [ It hurts her ego that he seems almost threatened by the prospect of her taking over his kitchen, but privately she'll admit her last few attempts at making something could have gone a little bit better than they had.
Besides, even she's drawn in by the idea of not watching a movie with him. It seems like just the right kind of positive reinforcement to help Tseng warm to all the holiday cheer she's brought with her, and it's not like close to him isn't becoming one of her favorite places to be. It's been a while since she felt that way, and this time of year makes her want to lean into it and enjoy the new spot in her life he's begun to occupy. ]
Want to show me where your mugs and pots are? [ She pulls the hot chocolate from her bag, along with another bag, this one bearing marshmallows, looking at him in that soft, playfully anticipatory way that's become so common between them. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@floresco
no subject
[ Tseng glances at her sidelong, suggesting her remark has landed somewhere within. ] Determination is an asset—when it's not working against me. [ This could pass for humor if it weren’t so meticulously subdued. Her request lingers, just so in a way that suggests Tseng might end up dismissing it outright once more. There's still a practiced stillness to him that, after everything, might still fool anyone not sitting in the car. ]
This isn't a leisurely drive, Aerith. [ He could very well leave it at that, but Tseng's tone tempers the potential finality of it. Stopping at the aforementioned bakery would seem small concession, but... ] Maybe another time.
[ Under different circumstances, like following unseen again. It’s not quite an apology, nor is it entirely an offer, but as if he's said all he can allow himself to, Tseng doesn't elaborate on the rules or remind her of who decided upon them in the first place, either. Of course, a ripple of intuition makes him wonder if her insistence is more than whim. A gut feeling, unspoken and unformed. The way the streets wind need no reminding of his that they're closer to her house than elsewhere, anyway. ]
my own top level? i just live in your open now i guess
You're going to regret it when we have to go all the way back to the bar.
[ She's got to purse her lips a bit to stop from smirking as she turns to look at him, her shoulders rolling in an easy shrug as she fights the urge to narrow her eyes and end up looking too triumphant. ]
I forgot my scarf.
[ Aerith wants to believe he'll wave it off as her being a pest, rather than a deliberate move to spend more time riding around in his car and not going home. All things considered, Aerith almost wishes she could do the same. It's safer and more sensible than quietly pulling a shrewd stunt like this. ]
you do, do you want some slippers, something to drink?
You forgot your scarf.
[ He repeats it, dryly. He feels the corner tightening around him, and that's one of the hardest things to stand. The point of escorting her home was to ensure she stayed there—not to have her doubling back alone. Tseng pulls the car to the side of the road. The doors are still locked all around. His eyes shift to Aerith, less sharp and unmistakably weary. He doesn't bother concealing it. ]
Alright. [ There’s no fanfare in his response, resigned but firm. Tseng steers the car into a tight turn, heading back the way they came. His focus is on the road ahead...back, but from the corner of his eye, he watches her. ]
and a big comfy chair svp
However rankled, she still straightens in her seat after Tseng pulls the car over to send a tired, annoyed, look in her direction before turning the vehicle back around. The softer side of her decision dims like her sense of enjoyment from stealing more of his time, and Aerith huffs audibly as her gaze returns to the view ahead, aware he's still looking and grimacing doubly so because of it. She's the Ancient, the Asset, and Tseng is only here to make sure her value to Shinra doesn't depreciate on account of a little peril, not because he wants to be. ]
It's a safe trip.
[ They both know why she points that out, just like they both must know it's pointless. Tseng would never willingly drive away and leave her if he thought she would head right back out again once he did. Settling back against the seat, she crosses her arms, not bothering to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. ]
at once! 🫡
You know I can't ignore it.
[ His answer is just as redundant to be said out loud. He can't admit how often he tells himself it's not just Shinra who wants Aerith safe, or instead even claim that it is her mother's worry that drives him—tonight literally. That lie feels truly hollow and gives him no comfort. The line between concern and obligation blurs too easily when it comes to her. And the decision to speak next is also hers, as always.
His gaze drifts to the side more earnestly, but long enough to see the way she's crossed her arms against him. ]
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[ A tart remark that's even more layered than the huff that preceded it, and twice as sharp. A comment she almost regrets making just as soon as the words leave her mouth. He'll see that in the mirror, should he elect to her look her way, how her eyes round, apprehensive and not without a generous dash of sadness. It's disconcerting to be upset by the thought that he's grown tired of being with her that evening, and it slips through the cracks enough to show.
Silence stretches long enough for her stomach to knot grimly as they pass beneath the long stop light without stopping. ]
Besides. [ An olive branch, not a white flag. ] You're acting like I have a curfew.
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In the time he lets her remarks fully simmer, tension winds back across Tseng's shoulders. He's tired, but in a way sleep can fix, and wills the sullen look from his face as he catches his own reflection. He reaches for her olive branch. ]
You don't. [ No but, his hand, too, stays outstretched. ] Take your time to collect anything else you may have forgotten.
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Her head bobs in a curt nod before the car door closes, and she disappears into the bar again.
Back in under five minutes with her scarf wrapped around her neck, she climbs into the car more carefully than she left. That extra note of care is explained as soon as she settles enough to pass him the cup of coffee. ] Because I bet you're not going to let me invite you to stay over and get some rest.
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kevin-proofed
She doesn't have to look at him too long to know the answer.
Pursing her lips in a short-lived show of hesitation, one hand reaches out and settles over his before she, pauses and waits to see if he'll stir. Despite their shared state of undress, that he's gloveless is the thing that really drives the point home that this is all uncharted territory, and the thrill of it takes the uncertainty out of her expression, softening it into a look of quiet, but markedly unabashed affection.
Her hand leaves his in favor of letting her fingertips brush along the ends of his hair, unconsciously shifting nearer, crowding his space without a second thought so she can stare up at his face, indulging the piece of herself that isn't shocked by this happening in the slightest. ]
Are you awake yet? [ As warm and gentle as her voice is, Aerith can't conceal the delight in her tone, and, more to the point – she doesn't want to. It would be as impossible as trying to get the smile off of her face while she stares at him.
At Tseng.
At Tseng, undressed, and asleep in a bed where she has also been sleeping while undressed.
It should feel like a heavier issue than it does. ]
kevin is sad he can't watch, that little voyeur
He, also, was too aware the night before to be surprised now.
Tseng has memorized every detail of her face, presently. His gaze lingers anyway. The unguarded smile on her lips, the warmth of her gaze, the way she fills the air between them with a quiet joy are all fragments that have been shown to him. He hadn't permitted himself to touch them before.
His hand, resting between them, flexes. The leather of his gloves is harder than the skin on his fingertips. ]
I am. [ His answer offers nothing to hide behind. They'd been even more direct with each other last night.
Where the sheets slide off of her shoulder, he can see how her breasts curve away from her chest. He touches her forearm, feeling tendons stiff with the strand of his hair pinched between her fingers.
Tseng knows what he should say. That this can't happen again. That they've crossed a line neither of them can even afford to acknowledge.
But he says none of it.
His thumb brushes over her pulse, his hand wraps around her wrist. ]
soz, but, we're too busy watering our own crops to water kevin's
Silent as she watches him watch her, Aerith only looks away when his fingers curve around her wrist, catching it lightly, loosely enough to allow her to slip her hand lower, until her palm settles against his, and she can lace their fingers together. ]
You looked like you were having a good sleep. [ And who cares if he knows she was watching? She spent most of last night tangled up with him, proving how much attention she's always paid, no sense in trying to play it cool now.
It's quiet, peaceful enough to make it easy to believe reality won't ever come knocking on the door, but the pale light filtering in from her window tells Aerith it's early, that there's time.
The arm resting against the mattress bends at the elbow before she presses it to the bed and uses the leverage to move very close in very little time. In a heartbeat, she's drawn close enough to usher herself into his arms and against his chest, ducking her head so it rests on his shoulder. ] Always knew you would be warmer than you looked.
looking forward to a bountiful harvest from ours
His mind, usually sharp and calculating, is occupied with unfamiliar thoughts: how long she's been watching him like this, how much she's memorized of him in ways he hadn't realized until now. He's spent years cataloging every detail of her—small, imperceptible things—but never with the awareness that not all of those details were meant for a report, or for professional detachment. Once or twice, he's seen her asleep, but the difference between then and now haunts him more than he expected.
Now the smooth glide of her skin against his ignites a quiet ache. Aerith's warmth in turn seeps deep, settling in places he didn't realize had grown cold. She fits too easily and perfectly against him, and it stirs a deep satisfaction within him. A low sound rumbles in Tseng's throat.
His free hand shifts to the small of her back, and his fingers trace up the length of her spine, ready to commit each subtle dip and curve to memory in a way that has nothing to do with duty. Tseng presses lightly, pulling her closer, letting her feel the growing tension in his body. ]
Aerith... [ Her name slips past his lips, almost like a confession. The muted glow cast across the room drapes over Aerith's skin, the morning held at bay by the gentle sway of her breathing. Tseng pauses just below her shoulder blades. ]
How long have you been looking at me like that?
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He's as lean and strong to the touch as he looks, and her chest feels almost uncomfortably tight in the wake of all the affectionate warmth that seeps through it. After a moment spent flush against him and still enough to take in all the places they fit so well together, Aerith tilts her head up and lets her lips brush against his jaw, doing her best not to grin over the contact when his question shocks a laugh out of her. ]
Shouldn't you know that already? Tonight's the only time you were asleep while I looked. You couldn't have missed it every other time! [ And in the wake of his asking, Aerith can't deny that it's been many times indeed. ]
It's been a while. [ She declares gently after a moment of consideration as she draws back enough to steal a look up at his face. ] What about you, Tseng?
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Tseng’s fingers touch the salted ends of her hair. His role has always demanded vigilance and restraint, but now he knows that the latter was never entirely honest. The way Aerith has changed over the years—grown into her womanhood—hasn’t gone unnoticed. Meanwhile, he’s seen and heard her laugh a dozen times, but never felt it so intently against his own skin. When she laughs he can’t help but still tighten his grip on her, his body reacts instinctively to the sound.
Tseng’s mind pulls back to every time he has watched her watch him. Was it just a consequence of noticing each other? He lingers where her waist curves under his hand. His thumb sweeps in a slow, deliberate arc beneath her breast. ]
I’ve always watched you. [ The dull explanation of his job. This isn’t what she means, though. Instead of stalling: ] Something changed that I wasn’t prepared for. Does that make sense?
[ He watches her through half-lidded eyes, sharp but softened in ways only she can manage. She should know... it’s harder to stop looking than she thinks. ]
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Yes. [ A hand finds its way to his face, where the pads of her fingers slowly trace over the gracefully high planes of his cheek. ] It makes sense. [ Even though when all is said and done, none of this has any business making sense, but right now the part of her that knows that doesn't seem to be present. Aerith's too preoccupied with the way his eyelashes fan out against his skin while he watches her like that, and the subsequent way her heart pounds in response. With her chest snug against his, there's no hiding that fact either.
Like common sense, it's unimportant.
The fingers against his jaw grow more sure in the way they touch him, until she's guiding his face down, as warmth creeps up the back of her neck, curving her lips into an anticipatory little smile. ]
If you keep me like this, you'll always know where I am.
[ Aerith's eyes narrow playfully before she lifts her head, drawing him into a kiss. ]
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Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]
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putting a bow on tseng's apartment door, another way for her to besiege him is totally aerith's gift
Aerith stopped, stood rocking on her heels and asked if this is it, standing in front of the building entrance that is, in fact, it. The entire house isn’t older, or even as old as the Gainsborough estate, and simply nestled into a street in Sector 8. Anyone might live here, like the residents in the other apartments do—like Tseng does.
Bundled in her worn but warm coat, she doesn’t look nearly so chilled as on that rainy evening. Still, Tseng can’t quite tell whether the rosy color on her cheeks results from her standing outside, or from the roguish excitement at stepping into such a reticent part of his life. He stands next to her, letting her look at the facade or guessing which windows belong to his view, or wondering if she’s just imagined something more “like him.” Or perhaps waiting for the usual stoic version of him to break into some unexpected gesture. She finally prompts him through apparent curiosity.
Tseng pushes the heavy, tall door open into a hallway where lights flicker on with motion sensors. Stairs wind up to the next floor in a semi-circle and at the far back of the hall is an elevator. Footfalls echo between plastered brick walls and the tile floor. ]
This is it. [ He says. How ordinary and unremarkable. ]
he will learn to regret this
Given the conspiratorially smug smile she gives him after the door swings open, allowing Aerith her first look around the inside of the place, it might be safe to say she's under the impression she can continue gaining distance from the line that's always been between them. ]
You haven't even given me a tour! How can this be it?
[ Barely suppressed amusement lights up her face when she meets his eye, smiling brightly before her attention diverts to her bag instead. She's definitely got a wreath, or a large glittery ribbon for his front door in here somewhere among the fairy lights, mistletoe, and other festive bits and pieces she's brought to stick all over his apartment. ]
What are we having for dinner tonight? [ She's already stopped to hang the wreath on his door, why not continue her tirade of audacity? ]
worse... he’ll learn to accept it
His fingers brush over the numbers and letters to enter the code, and a quiet click disables lock and alarm both. With a normal key, Tseng unbars the second, ordinary lock. The door itself is heavier to push open, too, if Aerith were to try it. She was right, it’s secure. A sense of obligation overrules his discomfort, and Tseng stifles a scoff very well. ] I’ll show you, then. Take your shoes off. [ He has done so. He’s set out those thin guest slippers for her.
But Tseng is a bad tour guide, and points without walking her around much. ] The bathroom and two bedrooms are on this side. The kitchen is there. Here, [ He only walks up to the largest but open door, and stands near the doorframe, hands clasped behind his back. Letting Aerith take in the space, he doesn’t quite pause his commentary, but does wait for her to catch up. ] is the living room. [ And, ] You’re welcome to look around.
[ Imagining that she would anyway, it feels better to say it first. The place is spacious and sleek, with modern appliances, and furniture in neutral colors, where the darker end of the spectrum dominates. The parquet floors help to leaven the picture. Everything looks ready to be lived in, but it’s just that. ]
You didn’t eat earlier? [ Tseng pulls an eyebrow back up and feigns
the mildest case ofbewilderment at her second question. They’ll have something together. ]no subject
It's a sweet thought that she wants to be true, a notion that his invitation to look around makes easier to entertain. Already she's flipped the top of her bag open, surveying the windows of the living room like she's looking for a starting point while she shakes her head at Tseng's question. ]
Just a little snack. I'm baking you cookies later. [ Stop her. ] So I didn't eat too much. [ Well, making cookies and the cheeky, selfish urge to have dinner with him.
As she speaks, Aerith strings lights around the frame of the closest window, a bit of piney garland looped around her forearm, waiting in the wings to further adorn the space. ]
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I hope you didn’t bring a tree. [ The words come out dry, but far too late to offer up real resistance. His own curiosity comes tempered with wariness. Seeing his apartment “through her eyes” inevitably involves her sharing that vision in ways far more tangible than words. Tseng looks inside the emptying bag, confirming his suspicions. Countless times, he’s left pictures and reports of her garden and house sitting in black and white on his desk, detached and distant, before retreating here. Now, she’s brought that vibrancy along. ]
Baking? [ His tone is still even, but his expression tenses again. ] I wasn’t aware I agreed to that. [ Meaning, he didn’t. She might have mentioned it. His kitchen is intentionally understocked, yet, as ever, Tseng has a contingency plan in place. ]
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[ Just as her eyes start to narrow smugly, Aerith turns and gets back to the business of decorating, returning to her bag for a coiled strand of lights destined to join the garland in his window. ]
You're better in the kitchen than I am, of course you'll have to do it. I'll supervise.
[ She plugs in the rainbow lights and steps back to admire her work, her head nodding approvingly as she hums in satisfaction. ]
I bought everything we need for cookies, and for hot cocoa. [ In true Aerith fashion, she's all too happy to keep piling things on, bit by bit. First the decor, then the cookies, then the cocoa – as much as she can get from him before Tseng puts his foot down (and potentially even after that). ]
There are lots of festive movies on the television, we could put one on after and not watch it. [ And she's off, heading to the kitchen to give the window in there the same treatment. ]
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So, none of this was planned with my input. [ He points out, a stopgap. Tseng crosses his arms. He’s given her free rein, and that might have been premature. As she swiftly moves on from the living room, Tseng is still looking at the newly done-up space. The decorations clash with the minimalism of this place.
He watches her accessorize with a deftness that suggests she’s done it a hundred times before– She has. His pulse pitches protest to the aversion bubbling up in him, about it being done at his apartment, instead. But he thinks about the dozen or so sprigs of mistletoe hung up around her house and feels a heat climbing up the back of his neck.
Tseng’s mind, usually so focused, is now the traitor. It conjures up the image of them standing beneath one of those sprigs, a single breath away from each other, and her playful implication of “not watching” a movie, too. Waiting under the doorframe of the kitchen, his lips press into a faint line. How long can he keep up his pretense? ] Fine, I’ll grant you that.
[ His comfort and composure lie in delegating. ] You’re responsible for the cocoa, though.
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[ Still, she can tell he's still relaxing into the idea she's all but burst into his home and began enacting, so she nods more than amiably when he tasks her with the cocoa, bouncing on the balls of her feet once as her hands clasp in front of her. ] You're on. Let's do cocoa and a movie first, then cookies later. [ It hurts her ego that he seems almost threatened by the prospect of her taking over his kitchen, but privately she'll admit her last few attempts at making something could have gone a little bit better than they had.
Besides, even she's drawn in by the idea of not watching a movie with him. It seems like just the right kind of positive reinforcement to help Tseng warm to all the holiday cheer she's brought with her, and it's not like close to him isn't becoming one of her favorite places to be. It's been a while since she felt that way, and this time of year makes her want to lean into it and enjoy the new spot in her life he's begun to occupy. ]
Want to show me where your mugs and pots are? [ She pulls the hot chocolate from her bag, along with another bag, this one bearing marshmallows, looking at him in that soft, playfully anticipatory way that's become so common between them. ]
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