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[FFXIII] Scintilla (1541 words)
Title: Scintilla
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII
Character/Pairing(s): Hope, Fang
Rating: G
Warning: family fluff
Summary: Every fire starts with a spark.
“You having trouble there, kid?”
Hope jumped as his concentration was broken, jerking back nearly a foot before he looked up to see Fang leaning over his shoulder and grinning, all teeth and sharp amusement. He shook his head quickly, and then hunched back over his work in embarrassment.
“N-no.” He said, and then winced at his own stutter. “I can do it.”
“If you’re sure, then.” Fang told him, and clapped him hard on the shoulder (hard enough he could feel his bones rattle, like when Snow was being enthusiastic about affection) before her shadow disappeared from over him. “Just don’t take too long, yeah?”
Hope could feel his face heat up, and his grip tightened on the sticks he had found earlier. It was just a stupid fire. He could do it. In fact, he had wheedled his own way into taking care of the campsite while the others hunted down dinner. They would probably be back soon, and he wanted to have the fire ready for them if nothing else. And it should be easy! He knew the theory — flammable objects plus friction equals spark, right? Technically, he could have just cast a Fire spell, but he had seen the others do this without spells and, well…
He took a long breath and stared at the small pile of firewood he had gotten as he exhaled, making a mental checklist. Dry wood, got it. Kindle, got it. Slightly sharpened stick against another stick? Got that as well. In fact, he had been attempting to get the kindle to burn with the stick for a good five minutes now. Did it really take that long? It hadn’t taken anyone else that long the previous dinners. Maybe he really should just use a Fire spell…
“That’s a mighty glare you’ve got there,” Came the amused voice from above him again. “I see you’ve been learning from Lightning, then.”
Hope startled. Again. Damn it.
A brief laugh and Fang dropped to a crouch next to him, reminding Hope that she had volunteered to stay behind and watch the campsite with him while Vanille (whom Hope had thought would stay behind as well) bounded off with Sazh, her voice high and cheerful as she regaled the man on all the stories she heard about the creature they were to hunt down.
(Her movements also reminded him of a predator’s grace, but that brought along a wave of jealousy comparing that and his own stilted, awkward movements. Both Fang and Lightning, Hope thought, moved like water against steel. Their movements were flowing and sharp, fluid and dangerous.)
“You know,” She told him, this time smiling almost as gentle as she did with Vanille. “It’s alright to ask for help. Not everyone gets it the first time around.”
As if his face couldn’t get any redder. He looked away. So it was that obvious, huh? He just wanted to be able to do something for the group, or at least be good at something. Building a fire had felt like a safe place to start, because it was a tiny goal: failing in that aspect felt enormous, though.
But what she said wasn’t true. Everyone else figured out how to build a fire: even Sazh and Snow, who had never done it before in their lives thanks to the convenience of Cocoon’s resources. They had gotten it their first try, while Hope watched intently each time to pick apart what looked like such a simple process.
“Snow got it on the first try.” Hope grouched, hunching over tighter. He didn’t want to show Fang his failure, but it was obvious the woman could tell so there was no use in hiding it.
Fang snorted, and then leaned down to his level. “Yeah, between you and me? Hero must have been practicing his magic, seeing as he barely got a spark.”
Hope couldn’t help it, between the frustration and the need to think about something other than his own lack of success, he felt his lips twitch up. He shouldn’t be making fun of Snow anymore, but…
“Ahh, there you go.” And Fang reached out to nudge his nose with her thumb, grinning at him. “There’s that winning smile that charmed even the taciturn soldier. Can’t have you looking too much like her, soon we wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart!”
Hope leaned back and rubbed his nose, unknowingly bringing the stick in his hand up as well, poking himself in the face. “Ouch.”
Fang threw back her head and laughed while Hope used his free hand to rub at his cheek in a futile attempt to push away his embarrassment. How come he was always making a fool out of himself in front of her…?
“Here,” Fang said, still snickering as she reached for the stick. “I’ll show you how to do this — not start a fire for you! Just showing you.”
Hope wanted to protest that he watched the process each and every time, that he was imitating it to the best of his abilities so far and nothing seemed to work, but the words felt stuck in his throat. Fang hadn’t volunteered to help when the others were learning — instead, it had been Vanille who cheerfully and patiently explained the process for the others. Fang, as he remembered, had her arms crossed in the back of the group, had looked like she would rather be anywhere but there, had been impatient and snappy with the slightest hint of failure.
He stayed silent as she explained the process to him, showed him with motions slow and controlled, spoke about pressure and speed and how moving hands up and down created a spark faster, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on it like he had the previous nights.
“…Why are you being nice to me?” He finally asked, voice small and immediately regretting the question the moment he spoke it. His eyes widened at his own words. “I mean — I don’t mean it’s a bad thing! It’s just — I, well, I just don’t understand.”
Fang couldn’t stand when anyone slowed the team down. She was fierce and made sure all of them could survive in the Yaschas Massif, and that meant being more stern than Lightning had been even back in the Vile Peaks. She was the first to point out when someone, usually Hope, did something that could have easily gotten him and everyone else killed.
He admired her as much as he admired Lightning, but tended to stay a little further away from Fang because at least with Lightning he had some sort of leeway, had a chance at wheedling his way out of trouble because he just didn’t know about something. Fang only saw inexperience and lack of knowledge as an excuse.
Right?
Fang handed the sticks back to him, and Hope accepted hesitantly, watching her warily despite how her small smile never faltered. “Now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Pulse is a harsh place, you know? Even hardened warriors take a wrong step and end up in the maw of some monster somewhere or buried in the sands. I gotta make sure the lot of you softies survive. You’re family now. Means I gotta knock a few survival lessons into your heads before you get yourselves killed.”
She placed a hand on his head, fingers sliding through his hair down to his scalp. “Now that don’t mean you need to be good at everything. That’s why we’re move in a group. But on that off-chance that something happens to the rest of us, and I’m not saying I’m going to let it happen because I’m not, you gotta be able to survive by yourself. The same with all of us, thanks to our little time limit. I want you to be able to continue.”
Hope swallowed down the lump in his throat at the words, feeling his eyes grow moist even as he looked away. He hated thinking about that possibility, about being left alone. It was bad enough in the dark hours of the night when he couldn’t seem to will the thought, the fear, away.
They all had a time limit, except for Fang. What must it be like for her to watch all of them ticking down? Hope had no doubt that she would trade Vanille’s brand without a moment’s hesitation, that she would die to have Vanille live for just a little while longer. He hadn’t imagined that she would wonder about the rest of them as well.
“You’re our kid now, and I’m going to look after you, even if I need to be the mean one in the group. But Hope,” and this time the pressure on his head, kneading at his scalp, brought his attention back to her. “You’re doing great, yeah? Don’t forget that.”
Hope nodded, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat once, twice. His voice was still hoarse when he murmured, “Thanks.”
He didn’t see her smile falter, but felt her withdraw her hand and nod at him. “Now, let’s have another go at that fire, shall we?”
This time, under Fang’s patient advice and readjustments, Hope could feel the warmth of a spark develop under his fingertips.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII
Character/Pairing(s): Hope, Fang
Rating: G
Warning: family fluff
Summary: Every fire starts with a spark.
“You having trouble there, kid?”
Hope jumped as his concentration was broken, jerking back nearly a foot before he looked up to see Fang leaning over his shoulder and grinning, all teeth and sharp amusement. He shook his head quickly, and then hunched back over his work in embarrassment.
“N-no.” He said, and then winced at his own stutter. “I can do it.”
“If you’re sure, then.” Fang told him, and clapped him hard on the shoulder (hard enough he could feel his bones rattle, like when Snow was being enthusiastic about affection) before her shadow disappeared from over him. “Just don’t take too long, yeah?”
Hope could feel his face heat up, and his grip tightened on the sticks he had found earlier. It was just a stupid fire. He could do it. In fact, he had wheedled his own way into taking care of the campsite while the others hunted down dinner. They would probably be back soon, and he wanted to have the fire ready for them if nothing else. And it should be easy! He knew the theory — flammable objects plus friction equals spark, right? Technically, he could have just cast a Fire spell, but he had seen the others do this without spells and, well…
He took a long breath and stared at the small pile of firewood he had gotten as he exhaled, making a mental checklist. Dry wood, got it. Kindle, got it. Slightly sharpened stick against another stick? Got that as well. In fact, he had been attempting to get the kindle to burn with the stick for a good five minutes now. Did it really take that long? It hadn’t taken anyone else that long the previous dinners. Maybe he really should just use a Fire spell…
“That’s a mighty glare you’ve got there,” Came the amused voice from above him again. “I see you’ve been learning from Lightning, then.”
Hope startled. Again. Damn it.
A brief laugh and Fang dropped to a crouch next to him, reminding Hope that she had volunteered to stay behind and watch the campsite with him while Vanille (whom Hope had thought would stay behind as well) bounded off with Sazh, her voice high and cheerful as she regaled the man on all the stories she heard about the creature they were to hunt down.
(Her movements also reminded him of a predator’s grace, but that brought along a wave of jealousy comparing that and his own stilted, awkward movements. Both Fang and Lightning, Hope thought, moved like water against steel. Their movements were flowing and sharp, fluid and dangerous.)
“You know,” She told him, this time smiling almost as gentle as she did with Vanille. “It’s alright to ask for help. Not everyone gets it the first time around.”
As if his face couldn’t get any redder. He looked away. So it was that obvious, huh? He just wanted to be able to do something for the group, or at least be good at something. Building a fire had felt like a safe place to start, because it was a tiny goal: failing in that aspect felt enormous, though.
But what she said wasn’t true. Everyone else figured out how to build a fire: even Sazh and Snow, who had never done it before in their lives thanks to the convenience of Cocoon’s resources. They had gotten it their first try, while Hope watched intently each time to pick apart what looked like such a simple process.
“Snow got it on the first try.” Hope grouched, hunching over tighter. He didn’t want to show Fang his failure, but it was obvious the woman could tell so there was no use in hiding it.
Fang snorted, and then leaned down to his level. “Yeah, between you and me? Hero must have been practicing his magic, seeing as he barely got a spark.”
Hope couldn’t help it, between the frustration and the need to think about something other than his own lack of success, he felt his lips twitch up. He shouldn’t be making fun of Snow anymore, but…
“Ahh, there you go.” And Fang reached out to nudge his nose with her thumb, grinning at him. “There’s that winning smile that charmed even the taciturn soldier. Can’t have you looking too much like her, soon we wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart!”
Hope leaned back and rubbed his nose, unknowingly bringing the stick in his hand up as well, poking himself in the face. “Ouch.”
Fang threw back her head and laughed while Hope used his free hand to rub at his cheek in a futile attempt to push away his embarrassment. How come he was always making a fool out of himself in front of her…?
“Here,” Fang said, still snickering as she reached for the stick. “I’ll show you how to do this — not start a fire for you! Just showing you.”
Hope wanted to protest that he watched the process each and every time, that he was imitating it to the best of his abilities so far and nothing seemed to work, but the words felt stuck in his throat. Fang hadn’t volunteered to help when the others were learning — instead, it had been Vanille who cheerfully and patiently explained the process for the others. Fang, as he remembered, had her arms crossed in the back of the group, had looked like she would rather be anywhere but there, had been impatient and snappy with the slightest hint of failure.
He stayed silent as she explained the process to him, showed him with motions slow and controlled, spoke about pressure and speed and how moving hands up and down created a spark faster, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on it like he had the previous nights.
“…Why are you being nice to me?” He finally asked, voice small and immediately regretting the question the moment he spoke it. His eyes widened at his own words. “I mean — I don’t mean it’s a bad thing! It’s just — I, well, I just don’t understand.”
Fang couldn’t stand when anyone slowed the team down. She was fierce and made sure all of them could survive in the Yaschas Massif, and that meant being more stern than Lightning had been even back in the Vile Peaks. She was the first to point out when someone, usually Hope, did something that could have easily gotten him and everyone else killed.
He admired her as much as he admired Lightning, but tended to stay a little further away from Fang because at least with Lightning he had some sort of leeway, had a chance at wheedling his way out of trouble because he just didn’t know about something. Fang only saw inexperience and lack of knowledge as an excuse.
Right?
Fang handed the sticks back to him, and Hope accepted hesitantly, watching her warily despite how her small smile never faltered. “Now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Pulse is a harsh place, you know? Even hardened warriors take a wrong step and end up in the maw of some monster somewhere or buried in the sands. I gotta make sure the lot of you softies survive. You’re family now. Means I gotta knock a few survival lessons into your heads before you get yourselves killed.”
She placed a hand on his head, fingers sliding through his hair down to his scalp. “Now that don’t mean you need to be good at everything. That’s why we’re move in a group. But on that off-chance that something happens to the rest of us, and I’m not saying I’m going to let it happen because I’m not, you gotta be able to survive by yourself. The same with all of us, thanks to our little time limit. I want you to be able to continue.”
Hope swallowed down the lump in his throat at the words, feeling his eyes grow moist even as he looked away. He hated thinking about that possibility, about being left alone. It was bad enough in the dark hours of the night when he couldn’t seem to will the thought, the fear, away.
They all had a time limit, except for Fang. What must it be like for her to watch all of them ticking down? Hope had no doubt that she would trade Vanille’s brand without a moment’s hesitation, that she would die to have Vanille live for just a little while longer. He hadn’t imagined that she would wonder about the rest of them as well.
“You’re our kid now, and I’m going to look after you, even if I need to be the mean one in the group. But Hope,” and this time the pressure on his head, kneading at his scalp, brought his attention back to her. “You’re doing great, yeah? Don’t forget that.”
Hope nodded, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat once, twice. His voice was still hoarse when he murmured, “Thanks.”
He didn’t see her smile falter, but felt her withdraw her hand and nod at him. “Now, let’s have another go at that fire, shall we?”
This time, under Fang’s patient advice and readjustments, Hope could feel the warmth of a spark develop under his fingertips.