#spinmeme

     ”I am fine.” A total lie; he was too dizzy from the loss of blood, weak enough to be shoved into a pile of boxes without offering much of a struggle. Much to his dismay, Prompto was damn ignoring his wishes again and instead crouched to inspect the wound more closely. 

     ”Get off my back.” He received a scoff followed by a slight pressure from the makeshift tourniquet. Goddamn, it stung more than hell does. “Yeah, ya know if this is your death wish, I’d be glad to leave ya alone.”

     ”I'm not going to die with this.”

     ”Oh good lord. If I had a mirror, I’d be glad to shove it in your face.” The paleness was frightening that his skin was literally white; from a foot away, Prompto could hear his ragged breathing from the irregular rise and fall of Cloud’s chest. He was friggin’ alarmed and the idiot was just trying to shrug it off.

     ”If you continue this, I’d just put you to sleep and pour scotch all over your—”

    “—could leave me and go by yourself—”

     ”—wound so I—” He paused as he processed the last words, head instantly jotting up and mouth popping out in disbelief.

     Did he hear what he thought he had heard? What. The hell. 

     ”Yeah, go on.” Cloud’s vision whirred when he felt himself being lifted up by the collar of his rain-soaked shirt; one moment his back was leaning against a support, the next, his hand was clamping on the other’s wrist to keep himself steady. Slowly regaining his senses, those which aren’t by the pungent smell of his blood, he found himself crouching and face to face with Prompto’s agitated expression.

    “Ya wanna die badly? I’ll give it to ya.” He was scowling, he was spatting his words out while he shook Cloud. He’d forget the bullshit that is the injury—it was more like this guy needs to have his head checked first. “Just don’t get melodramatic over things ‘cause you’re gettin’ disgustin’.”

     But Cloud didn’t reply—he was busy with absorbing the fact that Prompto’s lips were parting and closing just a few inches away—and he’d very much like to blame it on the blood loss that it’s getting annoying already. “Shut up,” he hit back as he gripped the opposite collar, fingers almost slipping because of the dampened cloth. “Just leave me alone and shut up.”

     ”Why how charmin!”

     ”Don’t get too noisy. You ain’t helping.”

     ”How thick, for fuck’s sake!”

     ”I told you to damn shut up, you—!”

     For some reason Cloud managed to pull him closer—much closer than he would ever be happy about, and the next thing he was aware of is that he could see the details of the other man down to how many lashes were there, their eyes are in level but both in shock, and there was subtle movements in his lips.

     A kiss. A fucking out of place, spur of the moment, out of context kiss.

     Prompto froze upon realization though only disconnecting when Cloud pulled back, both their faces red from either the lack of air or embarrassment, or both.

    “What the actual…” He tried to say something but failed; his assailant was just looking at him like an idiot (as expected), as if there was some accusation in those eyes. “…Frick.”

     ”That—that doesn’t count.” Cloud finally breathed out—it’s a wonder how his blood could still rush to his head when he had lost so much that it might have affected his brain. “That doesn’t amount to anything… you’re just too noisy.”

     ”Well… uh. This is awkward, ya genius.” But of course he wouldn’t go down without a fight and he leans in to let their lips brush once more. “That one doesn’t count either—" but his statement was cut off with another. And another. And another. And another, until they just collapsed on the floor and made an incomprehensible mess——

     ”The snow just has this horrible timing.”

     ”Horrible seems an understatement with the way you look, you know.”

     She chuckled, he shifted in the couch and looked the other way, the same set of gestures that consist more than half of their interactions. Oddly, they get along well more than anyone had expected them to, and it’s a dynamic that’s inexplicable.

     Barret had claimed before that he knew how to describe their relationship; he says it’s just like maggot cheese—in which Aerith is the premium dairy and their mighty blond is the insect that creeps all over it but in the end the mix is dangerously delicious. Vincent and Tifa were almost half- convinced. Of course Cloud called bullshit on it right away, just like what he calls this day.

     With his prolonged silence, the woman had no choice but to step forward, stopping a foot away from the couch but near enough to each out and poke his cheek with a finger. “Come on, come on scout. What can I do to make you smile? Hot chocolate?” 

     He could sense the humor behind her words and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Not a kid.” A harrumph, some murmurs, but she only caught the end of his sentence. “…something else.”

     Aerith’s smile grew wider and poked his nose this time.

     ”Hot chocolate with marshmallows?” 

     ”Wh—nope.”

     ”Hmmm… Hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkles on top?”

     ”No… I told you I’m not—” He paused and groaned when he met an expectant grin. “—well, that sounds fine. But.”

     ”But what?”

     Silence tolled after her question as they conversed with their eyes—but in the end he still couldn’t shake her off. Fine. His brow arched and his mouth curved towards the left. You asked for it.

Aerith could only giggle when he took her into his arms in one sweeping motion, bum hitting the couch safely and her back feeling the familiar warmth that was radiating from him, she could not complain with the set-up at all. It’s no secret that he was her favorite couch.

     ”Really?” Her palm landed on his arm that was snaked around her waist and indulged herself with running it along the muscles she had memorized already, too well that she could tell whenever they’re tensed, flexed, or relaxed. “I offered you lots and you could not say you wanted a hug. I can’t see its difference with a cup of hot chocolate.”

     Cloud sighed in her ear and closed his eyes, chin resting against her shoulder. “Hmm… To be fair… This,” He tightened his grip for emphasis, “is much… hotter… than that.” And she just chuckled unashamedly in reply, at his expense.

     ”Something tells me you’ve waited two weeks long to drop that on me.”