Title: Cuddle
Author: Micayasha
Summary: Baralai is being stubborn. But Gippal can't just let him freeze, can he?
Rating: G
Word Count: 513
Warnings/Spoilers: None, but as a side-note: in case you don't realize this by reading the story, this is pre-FFX, in the time when Baralai, Gippal, Nooj and Paine were in the Crimson Squad together.
I notice him shivering. How could I not? His teeth are chattering louder than I snore, and he's trembling like there's an earthquake or something.
See, it's cold. Really cold. Of course, I'm used to this. I live here. But Baralai isn't accustomed to this kind of weather at all. It's the darkest hours of the night, and there's a sandstorm outside. He can't leave and go to his own tent, or even go get a second blanket.
Yes, you heard me right, folks. I am in a tent with the man of my dreams—and one blanket. And while this would be a perfect situation for anyone else, I have one gigantic problem that most people in this situation don't.
Baralai is so far in the closet I think he's going to suffocate, soon.
Oh, I know he's gay, all right. It's so easy to see, he might as well be wearing a sign around his neck. And I've caught him gazing at me admiringly—then looking away with a slight frown as if to say in a puzzled way, "What was that all about?"
That, gorgeous, was your gay side looking around, because your traditional, stuffy, Yevonite side was taking a snooze.
And now he's freezing cold, huddled in the corner of the tent because he knows how this would look if someone came in here, and more in the closet than ever since his last staring session.
Well, the solution to this is easy. Share the blanket with him.
But no, when I offered that, he looked at me like I had grown another head and maybe two more arms.
So now, one hour later, the sandstorm is still raging, and I'm seriously worried about his health.
Oh, for Heaven's sake. "Baralai," I snap finally, "you idiot." Well, actually, I called him something a lot more rude, and he cocked his head in that reproving way he does whenever someone curses. "Your lips are blue, you're white as ash, and when you tried to move your hand just now, you realized it was frozen around that support pole holding up the tent."
He didn't answer, just half-glared at me. I almost pitied him for that glare, because it was so far from frightening that it was cute.
I huffed and rose, wrapping the blanket around myself and swearing at him again. Plopping down beside him, I growled, "Too bad for you," and threw the blanket around the both of us.
He gave me a wary look, but allowed me to first pry his hand off the pole, and then wrap my arms around him. He sat stiff for a moment, but the cold was too much, and eventually, he slid his own arms around my waist, curling up into a ball against me. His skin was like ice, but softer than anything I'd ever felt, and the silken strands of his fine silver hair tickled my face as he tucked his head underneath my chin.
Thirty seconds later, I glanced down at his face and smiled.
He was fast asleep.