A/N: ffnet likes to shut windows and not save things... making things frustrating to edit. At least with me. Anyway, PLEASE READ THIS kk? This fic is based off of and is for my loverly kitten chan's fantastic fanart, which you can find here:
kitten - chan (dot) deviantart (dot) com / art / Airgear - I-m - a - Crow - 70131193
I hope that works. (you know what to do with that, right?) Good, so go look at it and be sure to leave her reviews! This'uns for you!
Warnings: This was hard to write, mainly becuase it's told from Ikki's POV and I've never attempted it before. Also, it's hard to stay within his voice. Meaning, I can't wax poetic and give detailed descriptions like I want to because that's just not the way Ikki's mind works. Anyway, beware spelling errors, grumpy Kazu and an oh-so-lovable Ikki. omg Kazu is such a girl in this fic, lmao.
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Air Gear
a fiction by Crimson Vixen
Bird Food
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When I open my eyes, the bed isn't as warm as it was when I had gone to sleep. That's probably because instead of a body, it's a pillow I've got my arms and legs thrown over. It smells like his shampoo. A girly smell; strawberries – I fucking love it.
It feels like it may be close to noon, maybe a bit earlier. I don't know, don't care. I roll out of bed and take a good whiff of the air. Something smells good. My nose twitches fondly at the scent.
After a few steps, I can hear the sizzle of something cooking, and when I round the corner, there he is, cooking and good-lookin' even in a sissy pink apron.
He flinches a little every time the grease tries to splatter him, but he still looks lazy, dead – probably just woke up. He's not a morning person, so what the hell is he doing up?
I sneak up behind him and put one arm over his shoulder, sliding my other around his waist to hug his back to my stomach just like I do in bed. I love how warm he always is.
He doesn't say anything to acknowledge I'm there. Either he's just really out of it and tired or he's trying to annoy me for kicks because he knows how much I hate being ignored.
Slowly, I rock him back and forth a little, finally setting my eyes on the pan he's holding over the flame of the stove. Four dinky little sausages.
"What's that?" I say groggily, voice cracked with the first words of the day. He pauses.
"What do you mean? It's our breakfast, obviously."
"Obviously," I grumbled sardonically. I can't pass up this chance to bug him. "Mmm'no, that's your breakfast. Look," I say, pointing to the pan with my arm still slung over his shoulder.
"What?" he sounds a little miffed already. He hates mornings so damn much. I probably don't make them any better when I do things like this.
"Four. There's four of them."
"You really are a genius."
Hey now… I tighten my arm around him tightly but carefully. I bring my lips to his ear, noting how his lethargic expression doesn't even change.
"I'm a crow. Not a sparrow, Kazu. Do you honestly think that's going to feed two of us?"
He looks to the tiny sausages still sizzling in the pan. I hear him sigh through his nose and use his free hand to turn up the heat. I understand he forced himself up just to make us breakfast – he even has plates and glasses set out – but honestly, he could at least make enough.
"If you want, you can always just make your own."
"Kazu," I whine playfully, pressing myself harder against him and burying my nose into his hair just by his ear. God, he can be so cranky when he wakes up. "Don't be like that."
"Well," he grumbles back. "You can either appreciate it a little more, or just cook for yourself."
"I do," I assure him, looping both my arms around him and hugging him around his waist, then look at the pan. "I think they're done."
Kazu doesn't say anything. He just turns off the heat and puts two of each on two plates.
"Do you want them or not?"
I don't answer him with words. Instead I pick up one of the sausages with my fingers and take a bite of half of it. It's nice and hot, just the way I like it. He finally turns his head towards me, actually looks at me for the first time this morning.
"I'm sorry, did you want some of my meat?" I laugh stupidly and push the remainder of my sausage up to his mouth. How amazingly suggestive. He purses his lips tightly shut and tries to turn his head away but I keep it hovering in front of his face.
"Stop it – " he struggles to say, but as soon as I see his lips part I shove the piece of meat inside, sticking my fingers in for a moment to make sure he gets the whole thing. He chews it stubbornly, giving me an evil glare and yanking off that sexy pink apron. When he swallows, he shoves me on the shoulder. "I'm never doing this for you again."
I feign hurt, reaching out to take his wrists in my hands, even though he tries pulls them away. He's so hot when he's pissed.
"Thank you for making me breakfast," I tell him, wanting him to know that the sentiment really isn't ignored. Some toast on the side, maybe an egg or six, and we'll be good to go. And to prove my appreciation, I lean in to kiss him, smiling against his lips as he turns to putty in my hands.