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Characters/Pairings: Fang/Lightning
Rating: PG
Contains: Spoilers through Chapter 11
Notes: Written for the December 2010 round of
areyougame
Wordcount: 670
Summary: Lightning's wound too tight, and Fang has some ideas for blowing off steam.
Beta: None
Fang watches as Lightning swipes the polishing rag along the edge of her blade, the one she calls Flamberge. Lightning's been itchy all evening. She jumped at the chance to hunt for their supper, even though Fang can tell that under her cold façade she's intimidated by the massive fauna of Gran Pulse. Then she helped prepare the spoils, though she's an indifferent cook. Now she's polishing her weapon with a fierceness that's either going to get her hurt or wear down Flamberge. Normally, Fang would bet on the wielder getting injured, but Lightning's just stubborn enough to prove her wrong.
Vanille's teaching Hope how to play her favorite stone-game, and Sazh and Snow are lost in their own thoughts. Perfect.
Fang plants her feet in front of Lightning and puts her hands on her hips. "You want to burn off some energy, I've got a better idea," she says. It's a challenge, not a suggestion.
Lightning looks up, one steel-hard glance, then back to her weapon. "What's that?" she says crisply.
"Come on." Fang gestures outside the circle of firelight. "You won't need that," she adds, flicking her fingers dismissively at Flamberge.
Lightning raises an eyebrow, but puts the weapon aside. Before she leaves the camp, she glances in Hope's direction, almost automatically. Since he's happily engaged, she follows Fang.
They don't go far enough to find more monsters, just enough so that they're away from the camp. Fang sets a brisk pace, and Lightning has no difficulty keeping up, not that Fang expected her to.
She stops where there's enough space, and turns to face Lightning. "You're edgy," she says briskly. "Figured I'd help you unwind." She watches Lightning's face shut down with suspicion, and laughs. "I just meant a sparring match. Hand to hand."
Lightning considers it. Then she nods and puts her hands up, just like that. She holds them differently than Fang learned to, but that doesn't mean she's not good at it.
Fang's cautious for the first few blows; Cura heals many wounds but she's not after real damage. It's quickly apparent to her that they're evenly matched—she's taller and got more reach, but Lightning's quick like her name, darting out of the way and coming back at unexpected angles. The exertion warms Fang, gets her blood pumping properly, and the pulse and sting of pain where she turns aside a particularly strong blow is good. She catches a punch aimed at her jaw on the flat of her palm and uses her other arm to knock away a fist jabbed at her belly before realizing they were both just feints; Lightning hooks an ankle behind her knee and pulls, and Fang somersaults backwards, coming back up on her feet with a grin she knows is feral.
"First point to you," she says, and lifts her hands again.
Lightning grins back fiercely, and they start over.
By the time Fang's starting to tire and Lighting's movements have slowed, she feels good. Lightning takes longer getting up from Fang's last point than she has before, but not like she's seriously hurt. It's more like the tension wrapped around her has eased, leaving her fluid and easy.
"Better now?" Fang asks.
"Yeah." Lightning wipes sweat from her face, calls Cura to mend their bruises. "You?"
Fang stretches luxuriously, reaching her arms high above her head and arching back so her shoulders and her spine pop. "Yeah, I'm doing all right," she says. She steps closer. "One more round?"
Lightning smiles, and puts her hands up.
Now that they're both warmed up and relaxed some, this fight goes a little differently. Less like striking to drive something out, and more like an unintentional synchronization of their movements. This one goes on for longer, and they end up locked together, arms braced to ward off blows and each setting her stance hard.
"Are we done?" Lightning asks, but it has little of the usual bite.
"We're just getting started," Fang says, and leans in for the kiss.
Rating: PG
Contains: Spoilers through Chapter 11
Notes: Written for the December 2010 round of
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Wordcount: 670
Summary: Lightning's wound too tight, and Fang has some ideas for blowing off steam.
Beta: None
Fang watches as Lightning swipes the polishing rag along the edge of her blade, the one she calls Flamberge. Lightning's been itchy all evening. She jumped at the chance to hunt for their supper, even though Fang can tell that under her cold façade she's intimidated by the massive fauna of Gran Pulse. Then she helped prepare the spoils, though she's an indifferent cook. Now she's polishing her weapon with a fierceness that's either going to get her hurt or wear down Flamberge. Normally, Fang would bet on the wielder getting injured, but Lightning's just stubborn enough to prove her wrong.
Vanille's teaching Hope how to play her favorite stone-game, and Sazh and Snow are lost in their own thoughts. Perfect.
Fang plants her feet in front of Lightning and puts her hands on her hips. "You want to burn off some energy, I've got a better idea," she says. It's a challenge, not a suggestion.
Lightning looks up, one steel-hard glance, then back to her weapon. "What's that?" she says crisply.
"Come on." Fang gestures outside the circle of firelight. "You won't need that," she adds, flicking her fingers dismissively at Flamberge.
Lightning raises an eyebrow, but puts the weapon aside. Before she leaves the camp, she glances in Hope's direction, almost automatically. Since he's happily engaged, she follows Fang.
They don't go far enough to find more monsters, just enough so that they're away from the camp. Fang sets a brisk pace, and Lightning has no difficulty keeping up, not that Fang expected her to.
She stops where there's enough space, and turns to face Lightning. "You're edgy," she says briskly. "Figured I'd help you unwind." She watches Lightning's face shut down with suspicion, and laughs. "I just meant a sparring match. Hand to hand."
Lightning considers it. Then she nods and puts her hands up, just like that. She holds them differently than Fang learned to, but that doesn't mean she's not good at it.
Fang's cautious for the first few blows; Cura heals many wounds but she's not after real damage. It's quickly apparent to her that they're evenly matched—she's taller and got more reach, but Lightning's quick like her name, darting out of the way and coming back at unexpected angles. The exertion warms Fang, gets her blood pumping properly, and the pulse and sting of pain where she turns aside a particularly strong blow is good. She catches a punch aimed at her jaw on the flat of her palm and uses her other arm to knock away a fist jabbed at her belly before realizing they were both just feints; Lightning hooks an ankle behind her knee and pulls, and Fang somersaults backwards, coming back up on her feet with a grin she knows is feral.
"First point to you," she says, and lifts her hands again.
Lightning grins back fiercely, and they start over.
By the time Fang's starting to tire and Lighting's movements have slowed, she feels good. Lightning takes longer getting up from Fang's last point than she has before, but not like she's seriously hurt. It's more like the tension wrapped around her has eased, leaving her fluid and easy.
"Better now?" Fang asks.
"Yeah." Lightning wipes sweat from her face, calls Cura to mend their bruises. "You?"
Fang stretches luxuriously, reaching her arms high above her head and arching back so her shoulders and her spine pop. "Yeah, I'm doing all right," she says. She steps closer. "One more round?"
Lightning smiles, and puts her hands up.
Now that they're both warmed up and relaxed some, this fight goes a little differently. Less like striking to drive something out, and more like an unintentional synchronization of their movements. This one goes on for longer, and they end up locked together, arms braced to ward off blows and each setting her stance hard.
"Are we done?" Lightning asks, but it has little of the usual bite.
"We're just getting started," Fang says, and leans in for the kiss.