Overreaction
Sig asks. Izumi responds. Izumi acts. Sig Overreacts.It was one of those dreary, grey days when clouds filled the sky and rain threatened but never fell. The air hung about like a wet wool blanket: thick, warm and suffocating. A menacing wind soared out of the mountains, ravaging the town of Dublith as it skipped across the rooftops and through the tree branches, gusting up ladies' skirts, blowing umbrellas out of hand, and generally creating havoc as it went. This far south, the wind could not even allay the heat of the late autumn season.
None of this bothered Sig. He liked the sun as much as the next man, but cloudy weather did not dampen his spirits, and the wind could no more move him than it could an oak tree. He plodded his way slowly up the mountain, feet sure and steady on the uneven ground of the forest path, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets.
There were numerous reasons for his good humor, the first being that he hadn't seen Izumi in nearly a week, and had finally managed to steal away from his mother's watchful eye. The second reason was that this day just happened to be Izumi's eighteenth birthday. The third he could not even bring himself to think on because, although he was not superstitious, it was bad luck to speak of things that hadn't yet happened when one desperately looked forward to them happening.
Just as he was clearing the trees, Dante's house looming pretentiously against the horizon, Izumi bolted out the front door, followed closely by what might have been a half-eaten apple. Dante's angry screams flew through the entryway, accompanied by what was definitely an orange that Izumi avoided by mere centimeters with a nimble side step to the right. She caught sight of Sig and reached out her hand before her. He offered his own, and she grabbed it as she sprinted past, pulling him along with her back down the path toward Dublith.
When the house was out of sight Izumi dropped his hand, and came to an abrupt halt. After wandering a little ways off the path, she sat down heavily in the dirt.
"Happy birthday, and what the hell?" Sig asked, pushing past a branch and taking a seat next to Izumi.
"Dante's – Dante's having a – fit," she said brokenly while gasping for air. "She's go – going to beat me – 'til I'm blue."
"What did you do?" Sig asked, taking in her rather disheveled appearance. She was breathing as though she had run for miles; her face flushed a deep crimson. Sweat dripped from her bangs and plastered her white shirt to her pronounced curves in a most charming fashion. Her ponytail was falling out, loose black cords laying against her shoulders.
Sig suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
"Broke a vase," Izumi breathed, flopping backwards to lie on her back and look up through the foliage into the grey skies.
"Just a vase?" he prompted.
"And the table it was on," she added.
He raised as eyebrow at her.
"And the wall behind it," she continued, trying not to look quite so culpable.
Sig kept silent. Izumi had been rather awkward in her early years, or so she said, and shattered pottery had been a normal occurrence. He had even heard her speak of broken chairs. A table was hard to damage – he knew: he had accomplished just that not many seasons ago – but there was little doubt in him that Izumi could find a way to do it without actually meaning to.
Now to break a vase, and a table, and the wall? She had obviously been trying.
"What were you doing? Wrestling with a bull in the hallway?" he asked congenially.
"Oh, hush!" she chided with a laugh, rolling onto her side and laying her head against his thigh. "There were no animals involved. And I could fix it, if she would just give me the chance."
"You'd think an accomplished alchemist like Dante would be able to work around a destructive teenager," Sig said with a chuckle.
Izumi let out a harsh breath that sounded a little like "Men!" and said, "Dante's put way too much store in my ability to behave myself."
"She'll get over it, sweetheart," he assured, combing his fingers through her hair.
"Not before I pay for it," grumbled Izumi, grabbing his hand and pressing his cool fingers against the burning skin of her neck. It was soft and slick beneath his fingertips.
Turning onto her back, she looked up at him. "What did you get me?" she asked blithely, giving his neutral expression a falsely innocent grin.
Sig froze. His heart stopped then climbed into his throat, and his mouth felt suddenly dry. This was it, then: the culmination of nearly four years of wondering what it would be like to wake up beside her in the morning without having to explain to his mother why he had been out all night. His fate, ultimately his happiness, would be decided with the next question he asked – or rather, how Izumi answered. Suddenly the nineteen years he had spent alive did not seem like adequate preparation.
"Are you alright?" Izumi asked, sitting up in concern at his sudden and prolonged silence. "What's wrong? Sig?"
"Izumi," he began, turning to face her, his hand still cupped around the soft skin of her neck.
"Yeah?" she asked with an encouraging smile when he didn't continue.
"I'd been thinking," he started again, hand sliding from her neck to her shoulder. "Your apprenticeship has been over for a while now, and Dante's got to want to get rid of you, and my dad's getting ready to hand down the shop soon, and I don't think it's possible to love anyone more than I love you…"
She blushed a little at this, the dark color at odds with her usually unflappable nature, and he swallowed the lump in his throat just in time to choke out, "Do you wanna get married?"
The color that had been so prominent on Izumi's face drained away almost immediately, and her expression slackened until she was staring at him as if he had just sprouted a new limb.
"Excuse me?" she blurted, gaping up at him in a very disheartening manner.
"I was…" he stuttered, "I mean, would you… will you marry m-umph!"
The last syllable morphed itself into something unintelligible as Sig suddenly found himself thrown back against a tree trunk under the assault of a very eager young woman who was doing her best to swallow every word he could utter. In an instant Izumi had catapulted herself from the ground and into his lap, where she took his face in her hands and kissed him.
"Yes," she breathed against his mouth, her palms cool and calloused along his stubbled jaw. Then, between kissing his cheeks, nose, and forehead, she continued, "Yes, hell, I've been waiting for you to ask for months!"
"I've been thinking about asking for months," he said with a chuckle, which was also cut off by a kiss.
He lost himself. Izumi's shoulder was warm and damp beneath his hand, her lips rough against his own as she slowly drew from him all the burning thoughts he had been storing up since their last lazy afternoon together.
Her hands moved. One felt its way past his jaw, ghosting beneath his ear and around his neck, where it secured itself in his hair. The other fell across his free hand, still lying unused by his side. Her long fingers wrapped tightly around the back of his palm, pulling it from the ground and laying it above the swell of her hip, thumb brushing the exposed skin. Sig's other hand, still resting on her shoulder, fell to mirror its partner, and together they traveled up the lines of her waist, pressing against the bottom of her ribs.
When Izumi let out a loud yelp and pulled away, Sig froze.
"I'm sorry!" he apologized immediately. Even as a young child he had been large, and had refrained from much of the usual roughhousing boys are prone to for fear of hurting his playmates. Izumi, of course, would have none of his physical abstinence, and he had been so indescribably careful in all their encounters that it was a wonder he could even remember what she felt like. He'd thought he was being careful…
Izumi looked up at him with a sympathetic but pained smile, and said, "It's not you. I think I have a broken rib."
Laying her fingers across the left side of her ribcage, she pressed gently – and winced. She continued to probe until she had determined just how badly she was injured. When the burn had subsided to a dull ache, she smiled at Sig and moved in to continue where they had left off.
"Wait just a minute," he interrupted, laying a hand on her shoulder to hold her at arm's distance. Taking great care, he lifted the light cotton of her shirt to reveal a deep blue bruise growing along her side. The abrasion stood out starkly against her pale skin.
"Where did you get this?" he queried, concern on his face.
"It's nothing," she insisted, pushing his hands away gently and pulling her shirt back into place. "Just an accident."
"What happened?" he asked again.
"I…" she bit her lip, and looked at the dirt. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to be upset."
"Oh dear lord," he murmured, leaning back against the tree and putting a hand over his eyes.
"I was going to tell you," she insisted, pulling his hand away from his face and linking her fingers with his own. "I didn't want you to worry, and Dante-"
"Dante did that to you?" Sig exclaimed, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
"Hardly," Izumi said with a snort. "The old biddy can barely do her needlework. She hasn't had the dexterity to beat me in… oh, two years now."
"Izumi," Sig growled.
"Oh, all right," she finally acquiesced with a laugh that Sig could not decipher. "A few years ago a man came to visit Dante. I was outside with Dean Shepherd when- Where are you going?"
Sig, who was climbing to his feet, did not respond.
"Sig!" Izumi exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull him back down. "Honey, no! It's not what you think!"
"The hell it ain't!" he muttered angrily, prying her gently off his arm and standing.
"Really!" Izumi intoned, latching on to his hand in a vain attempt to halt him. All she did was get dragged along for a few feet. "You're overreacting! This is nothing! I've had more broken bones and pulled joints than-"
Sig did stop then, and turned to her with a look of such restrained (and violent) concern that Izumi fell silent. She looked away first, staring at her feet and giving a small chuckle. He swore and sat down again.
"All right, then," Sig said, giving her a dour look. "Lemme hear what's going on before I go up there and give someone a piece of my mind."
"I'm learning…" Izumi began, trailing off to bite her lip as she thought of the best way to put her circumstances into words.
"Learning what?" Sig demanded when she did not continue.
A slow smile spread over Izumi's face. "Let me show you," she said, rising to her feet and motioning for him to do the same. She took off at a steady pace, and he followed her deeper into the woods, the trees growing thick and tangled around them.
"Did he teach you how to walk through a forest?" Sig couldn't help jibing as he stepped over another fallen tree.
"Shut up," Izumi responded easily, stooping to push through a rather small spot of bare branches in a deep green thicket.
Sig stood for a moment, wondering if he should chance his mother's wrath and ruin his trousers by clambering through the brush – because there was no way he would be able to get through standing up. An impatient shout from Izumi (who could have easily cleared a hole for him, but refused to use alchemy in any circumstance where it wasn't completely necessary) made up his mind, and with a small grunt of dismay he knelt and crawled awkwardly through the hedge.
As he rose, brushing as much dirt from his knees as possible, he found himself standing in a clearing so pretty and serene it could not possibly have been real. There were a few small trees overgrown with wisteria vines just beginning to bloom, and the grass was so green it seemed painted. On better days there would be bright sunlight in this place, and there was a small brook of clear water and smooth pebbles. Izumi was kneeling beside it, letting the cool water run over her hands.
With a deep breath she stood, rubbing a wet hand along the warm skin on the back of her neck. She turned to him with a slight smile, stepped backward on her right foot, and then-
Then she moved.
She was like a river rushing against its banks, a rainstorm tearing across green, grassy plains. Feet and fingers that fumbled down stairs and over sewing needles became swift, powerful, and unforgiving against invisible foes.
Sig could almost hear the bones crunching, and when she slowed, stopped, and turned to him with a look of pride, all he could say was, "Hm."
Then she laughed, and pulled the elastic band from her hair.
"Well," she said, running her fingers through her dark locks, "It's better when there's someone on the receiving end."
"That's how you broke the table, right?" he asked, crossing his arms. "You got thrown into it. That's how you got hurt."
Izumi made a face as though she had tasted something sour and nodded.
"He got the drop on me," she said, kicking off her sandals so she could feel the grass between her toes. "Ambushed me in the hallway as I was walking to my room. Threw me against the wall, right into the table."
She rubbed her elbow momentarily, as if remembering a past pain, and then added, "He broke the vase, though. That was all him. Does your mother know?"
"Know about what?" he returned: the abrupt change in subject matter had him just a little lost.
"Was I hallucinating, or did you ask me to marry you?" she said in a casual tone, as though asking whether or not two plus two equaled four.
Sig smiled, and suddenly, for no explainable reason, felt embarrassed. He blushed, and looked down at his feet.
"Am I crazy, or did you say yes?" he asked when she gave a small laugh at his reaction.
Her feet made their way into his line of site, tiny in comparison to his own, and he felt her hand on his arm.
"You're not crazy," she said, and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against his chin.
Then, because she felt the situation called for it, Izumi let out a loud, happy, wordless shout, and latched onto his neck. Sig was more than happy, and more than able, to pick her up and pull her closer then she could get on her own.
They stood that way for a long moment. Then, when Izumi felt she could handle being a singular, unattached organism again, she kicked her legs and Sig set her down again.
"Come on," she said brightly, pulling him back toward the large hedge. "I have a vase to fix and a broken rib to repay."
Sig just sighed, somewhere between resignation and amusement, and let her pull him along.
Fin
AN: My god, fluff makes me happy... It really just occurred to me that Sig and Izumi might be my favorite couple, and all this time I thought I was a Royai fangirl... Anywho, lemme know if you enjoyed!