Humming out a little laugh at his question, Aerith shrugs a shoulder evasively, raising her eyebrows at him. "Sometimes you even listen!" Leaning in, she wrinkles her nose before her lips press against his in a brief kiss, her fingers fanning against his cheek.
She's been with others here, like Anna, who she's been comfortable enough to cuddle and laugh with after fooling around, but this still feels like a departure from that. Aerith has a deep appreciation for Balthier's friendship, but this feels different - like if she tried hard enough she would be able to forget their circumstances and enjoy this as nothing more than a great night with a sweet, wonderful guy. It feels like they've forgotten to be prisoners long enough to sink into being people together, and it's hard not to want more of that.
Her fingers trace along the side of his face before descending to his chest, tracing abstract patterns on his skin. "I guess you're going to have to see me a lot then, to make sure you're getting your fill."
"I object. I listen extremely well except when I have a better idea for how to please you." Gods it's cute how she wrinkles her nose and it's almost hard to close his lips to return her kiss through his grin.
He hasn't quite put the thought together, but that's exactly what this is: forgetting to be prisoners and getting to be people together. Even before all this, outside Fran hardly anyone saw past his guile to the person behind it. Aerith barely knows him, all things considered, and yet he feels naked with her in the best possible way.
She's snuggled up against him, her weight warm and reassuring, and he can't think of anything he wants more as her touch wanders down his body. He hums happily even before her invitation. Heat spreads across his cheeks as his fingers smooth through her hair. "I guess I will," he agrees, almost disbelieving that she's asking that of him, allowing it, really. And yet he knows that he's already eager to see her again, mind pleased to have the helps she needs with the house as a pretense to see her.
"All the ideas you have about how to please me is one of my favorite things about you," among others - something she realizes as she says it.
The night has ended so much better than it began that it almost pains her to even so much as elude to what happened before they came here. As soft and beautiful as Balthier's made everything feel, there's still a nagging concern darkening the corners of her otherwise dazed and content thoughts. It makes her duck her head down, resting it against his chest as the hand tracing along his skin moves down to rest against his heart, eyes ticking upward to peer at him from this angle.
His hand comes to wrap around hers as he exhales, her body moving with the force of it. He doesn't want to think about it either, but it's there, and is going to be there waiting when he doesn't have her to warm and distract him.
"I think so," he says honestly. "Very much thanks to you." He smoothes her hair away from her face, gently guiding it all to one side as he looks at her. It's impossible to tell for certain, not until time passes, but he suspects it will be easier to quiet with the way he was so beautifully cared for after. That wasn't something those old memories had attached at all.
"Let's think of prettier things tonight, hmm?" he asks. "Like the luxury of a double bed and good company."
They stay awake awhile longer, murmuring and snuggling together, until the exhaustion catches up and claims them both. Whenever he wakes in the night, it isn't for long, just enough to resettle around her and place a few sleepy kisses on her shoulders or head. At some point that waking is in the quiet light of morning, and sleepy kisses grow longer until they're tangled together again, slow sweet sex still somehow swelling to crescendo too quickly.
Eventually they grow hungry and thirsty and all the other damnable human needs that break their perfect cocoon. But as he gathers his clothes, Aerith makes it clear he's welcome back shortly, and some odd dance of conversation produces a sideways agreement of bringing back safe meat to cook and helping with some fence or or broken floor or whatever it was she said because he's distracted by how much she's smiling.
He's gone longer than he means, having trouble finding Fran and needing to clean his clothes. By the time he's laying his delivery of meat on Aerith's counter, freshly showered and dressed, he's feeling almost shy at being back here, wondering at having only just been here that morning.
"We've another hour or two of daylight," he grins at her. "How are you going to put me to use?"
Though she doesn't wake up all the way when he rouses during the night, there are a few times the kisses he dusts against her shoulder are met with a few mumbled, affectionate words while she adjusts her hold on him and plants sleepy kisses against the side of his face.
The close proximity she maintains in her sleep is renewed all over again in the morning when she wakes up for real and finds him as wonderful in the early light of day as he had been last night. Getting lost in Balthier proved to be as good a way to wake up as it was a way to fall asleep, and it's only because she wants to take a bath and properly wash her hair that she lets him leave that afternoon. The state of the house she's been given isn't ideal, but it gives her lots of material to work with while she's coming up with excuses for him to return, feeling it very important for reasons Aerith isn't addressing right now that she offers him ones that aren't - I already want to see you again even though you're still here.
The smile on her face stays where it is as she goes through her afternoon, first cleaning herself up before turning her attention to tidying her room, ignoring the way her cheeks flush every time she spares a glance towards the rumpled blankets piled on the mattresses in the corner.
By the time he comes back she's made her way downstairs, resuming the ongoing task of getting the kitchen into some kind of shape when he returns with a giant hunk of dinner.
"Oh wow," she perks up from the far end of the room, where she's been using a broom to sweep out a pantry. "Usually, I prefer flowers, but, I'm starving." Aerith crosses the room to where Balthier stands, her hand resting on the small of his back as she smiles up at him, his question pulling a little chuckle from her. As always, it's not that difficult to imagine things Balthier could do that would be very useful.
"I've got a trellis outside that needs to be attached to the top of the fence, and," she tips her head towards him. "Since you are my favorite tall, handsome friend..."
The touch to his back is not expected, and yet he leans into it like it's familiar, smiling at her surprise. "We've found this one has better flavor. Also, knock on wood, not aphrodisiac surprises thus far."
Not that he'd mind in the given company, but he also cherishes all their sober time together deeply. And he's still a little stunned they've had sex technically three times in less than a day, even if one was not ideal.
"Am I not your only tall, handsome friend?" he teases lightly, enjoying that their games extend to playful conversation. It's just...easy to be with her. "Lead the way. Unless you want me to cook this first."
She tilts her head to the side coyly at the question, doing what she can to keep the smile on her face from evolving into a full-fledged grin. "Well, you're my tallest, handsomest friend. That counts right?"
Even though Aerith is no expert on these things, she can tell that the situation between them has changed, the word friend feeling like a more awkward fit than it did this time yesterday. It's something she wants to be careful with, as unsure of what to make of it as she is, so she stops herself before she says anything more damning, like telling him he's her favorite friend.
"You're going to cook for me too?" Her eyes widen, and she takes a step towards the door, the hand on his back leading him along. "I guess there's no way around inviting you to stay for dinner then, huh?" As though she would even consider doing otherwise.
"Now I'm trying to recall if you are my shortest friend. I think you are. Even if I don't remember you that way." No, friend doesn't entirely fit, but he isn't going to dwell on it. It doesn't fit for Fran either. That's...kind of like what this is. Closeness that's hard to pinpoint or explain.
Perhaps he's misstepped in offering to cook for her, even if his grin at her inviting him to stay is quick and wide. "Alas, I'm a snob about food. Have I managed to hide this from you? Must be why you like me so much -- haven't found any of my flaws yet."
Making a face at being called short, Aerith leans sideways enough to bump her hip against him lightly. "You're definitely the biggest pirate I know," she chides playfully, looking towards him with a roll of her eyes.
"You never told me that, but, I figured you must live a pretty fancy life." Her hand falls away from his back, catching his hand briefly to tug him towards the fence once they step outside. "That room at the palace, remember? You said it looked like your ship."
Aerith stops after they reach the fence, gesturing towards a salvaged square of latticed wood. "If you can hang it up there for me, my moonflowers will have somewhere to go," she points towards a stout nail sticking out of the high hanging top of the fencepost before her hand goes to her hip, fixing him with a smirk. "Then I'll let you cook dinner for me."
"Are all the pirates small where you come from?" he asks, ignoring how pleased he is with the warmth of being bumped like that. "Fran's taller than me even without her ears. And you'd make an excellent pirate, I wager."
He follows her fluidly, momentarily distracted when she takes his hand and by the words that followed. For some reason, he's touched that she remembers, and maybe a little uncertain about what she knows about him. It hadn't really mattered that night, but now it feels like maybe it does.
"I've lived a life of finery and one of very little resources," he shrugs, drawing much less attention to it than he feels. "I prefer nice things when I can get them. Like my ship."
The lattice gives him safer territory to navigate, and it's easy enough to lift the lattice and maneuver it onto the nail. He's done significantly harder under significantly more pressure and less light. "Moon flowers, hmm? Are they special?"
"You really think so?" Aerith beams, giving Balthier a wink that suggests she shares his opinion. "There aren't any pirates back home, so I got into selling flowers instead. Don't worry though, I'm figuring out how to make up for it in other ways." Something she's pretty sure he already knows but is obliged to cheekily remind him of, even if it makes her cheeks go slightly pink in the process.
It's almost funny - flirting with him like this after so many things have already happened between them. There shouldn't be that much left to feel out, and yet as she chatters on cheerfully, Aerith can't help but get the sense there's a lot that remains to be turned over and explored when it comes to the progressively complex issue of Balthier.
She casts that line of thinking aside for the time being, far too interested in listening to Balthier talk while he hangs up her future trellis for her. "I bet it's a great ship. The airships in my world were pretty rare, but they always sounded wonderful."
In a smooth, graceful movement she hops up onto the fence by the spot he's working, sitting down and swinging her legs while looking on. "They bloom at night, and I'll be able to smell them from my room."
"Disarming. Secretly ferocious. Attractive enough to distract people. Enjoy ordering people around. I'd say you fit the bill." He doesn't miss the way her cheeks go slightly pink and can't resist teasing. This may be a new game for them, flirting and poking, but it has some of the same electric energy their time together does. Well, the times before the last day or so.
And for him, flirting is safer territory, something he does without thinking. It is odd, though, for this to feel new when there's so much they've crossed together.
"Ah, your world had airships? Interesting. You're the first person who's said so." His voice shifts as he talks about the Strahl, wistful and proud. "My ship was one of a kind. Military prototype, only one made. Stole it. Stripped the interior and refinished it, mostly myself, hired some workers for parts. Fran and I have lived on it for near a decade. World's best apartment. Maybe the universe's.'
When he glances over, she's sitting on the fence listening to him thoughtfully, legs swinging, and the smile he gives her is warm and full of affection. "I always liked night blooming flowers -- a lot of them in the deserts. They suit you." And because he can't help himself, "You'll have to point the scent out sometime when I'm over."
"Secretly?" She scoffs nose wrinkling at him. Just like last night, the thought that they were being people instead of prisoners crosses her mind, though, at present, it's a very different context, one she decides she likes. He's been interesting and sweet in every light she's seen him in so far, but Aerith isn't sure what she's supposed to do with that information given the circumstances.
Aerith smiles as he describes his life before arriving here, trying to piece together an image in her mind of what life as a pirate aboard an airship must be like. It's a little beyond the frame of reference she has from things seen in passing on the television or heard in stories, but it sounds wonderful, and more than that, it sounds so perfectly him.
A detail she feels weird about pointing out and so refrains, even if she couldn't say why. "It sounds like a lot more than an apartment," she begins. "Were you always in danger?"
Smiling at him even while she tries not to imagine what future visits from him might entail, Aerith nods, humming in agreement before she holds a hand out towards him. "Hey, help me get down." She could absolutely hop down by herself as easily as she hopped up, but, that wasn't the point.
"Are you going to break my heart and tell me you're this intense with everyone?" He regrets the phrasing as soon as it's out, feeling oddly self-conscious that a definitely playful joke may have come off as something else.
Still, safer to latch onto the other conversation, and he's nothing if not a man who listens to his instincts. "Apartment. Transportation. Military grade defense systems. Cache of priceless artifacts and illicit magick. She has her charms." He laughs at the other question though. "I would say technically yes and practically speaking, no. Usually if we made it back to the Strahl, we were more or less in the clear." It's been...months since he's talked about any of that. There's something pleasant about it, and a little wistful.
Aerith brings his attention back to the present though, holding out a hand and giving him another order so easily he almost says yes, my lady. There's a tiny flush in his cheeks even as he smiles at her, offering his hand and steadying her as she jumps down. And then lingering a beat too long with her hand in his and his frame around her, making sure she's stable, noticing the way she smells clean and warm, mind drifting back to being in the blankets with her all night like it happened weeks ago and a thousand miles away.
The remark sticks in her head for a moment too long, and Aerith has to stop herself from saying the first ten or so things that spring to mind on the heels of it, glad she's already a little red in the face so he can't see how he's flustered her all over again. After a split second of pause, Aerith purses her lips together, rolling her shoulders in an elusive shrug.
"You see more of me than most people do." To her credit, she doesn't wince, even though she wants to, saying something like that to him. Aerith shakes her head, glad for the talk of the Strahl for a multitude of reasons. "Maybe one day you can draw me a picture of your ship, I'd like to see it." Just when she thinks she can't inadvertently expose herself anymore in this conversation.
Since she doesn't know what's going on here, exactly, she can't tell if Balthier helping her down has made things better or worse. Looking up at him while he's close, she's pretty sure it's better, even if the desire to kiss him while he stands there, and the uncertainty over whether she should feels preposterous, all things considered. Aerith's expression softens, and she reaches up, smoothing out the front of his vest where it's creased, presumably from hanging the trellis, or she's making up excuses to touch him.
There's...a lot in this exchange he could dig into, but he's choosing not to, trying to find the safest place to put his feet. And that, at least, is something he can do on autopilot after years of piracy and conning. Not that he wants to be anything but honest with her, but, well -- choosing safe topics isn't exactly dishonesty.
"That's not a bad idea. I wonder if the commissary has drawing supplies -- might be good for me." It's a habit he picks up when he's stressed. Hasn't in awhile, but he's decent.
Those thoughts are derailed when she's suddenly nearly in his arms again. Before he can decide what he's going to do about that, she's smoothing her hand down his chest, and he knows exactly how she would fit if he just curled around her, head on her chin -- and do? What?
The result is he's just staring at her, lips parted and brow just barely wrinkled. His hands come up to her sides but don't quite touch and honestly it's the first time in probably years he's genuinely not sure what to do with himself.
On the verge of reminding him that he's certainly earned enough points for drawing supplies between the two of them alone, Aerith's train of thought is derailed when Balthier brings his hands to her sides and stops, hesitating with his palms hovering not quite against her.
Arching an eyebrow she glances down at his hands, laughing in surprise when she looks back at his face, eyes widening expectantly. "Um," she lifts her hands, covering his and guiding them to rest on her sides. "Better?" Aerith tries not to sound hopeful when she asks, ignoring the silly little flutter that moves through her chest at the thought that he wanted to touch her. He's touched her lots of times, there's no reason for it.
Disguising her nervousness poorly with another spell of gentle laughter, Aerith sets her hands on his shoulders before rising onto the balls of her feet to resolutely press a kiss to his lips, having no idea why it felt like such a gamble.
Maybe it feels more illicit because they're still dressed. Or outside. Or because his heart skips then starts to pound against his chest. He licks his bottom lip, mouth suddenly gone dry.
This is absurd. He's been with her numerous times. Nothing has changed, and a hand at a waist is hardly something to get ruffled over.
Which makes it that much more ridiculous when she stretches up to kiss him and he hums in surprised delight, hands tightening around her middle as he leans into her. Nervousness and heat flare in his stomach and he can't help pulling her to him. The way their bodies fit together is starting to feel familiar, and some part of him is screaming to abort, but the rest of him is kissing her back like he never wants to stop.
He breaks away, eyes searching her face. For what? Asking if this is okay? He gives her a lopsided grin, as much at himself as anything. "We seem to be unable to keep our hands to ourselves." Not that he withdraws them, he just -- doesn't want to cross some line he feels like is there.
Even if he's absolutely aware that somehow his cock is starting to harden. Again.
The way he returns that kiss doesn't put all these weird little passing worries she's working so hard to brush off aside, but it does fill her with a warmth she knows she shouldn't look at too hard. Whatever this is, it's enjoyable enough that whatever warning signs there might be are easy to ignore in favor of the thrill of being pulled closer and kissed like she's someone he's wanted to see very badly.
The crooked smile on Balthier's face makes Aerith's stomach do a little flip, her jaw tensing as she fights with herself and the rising urge to tell him how beautiful he looks like that. She's called him beautiful before in far more tawdry circumstances, but fully clothed kissing in a field feels like a step too far.
He is beautiful though, in a way that makes her stop and stare up at him before forcing herself to look away, glancing left and right as if to verify something for herself.
Looking back at him, Aerith rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't think I have neighbors who'll mind." She didn't know if she had neighbors, period.
She stares at him a little too long and he wonders if he's crossed a line, or if he hasn't crossed one he ought to have. It's been a long time since he felt this socially clueless, and some part of him delights in that too. She is certainly an adventure.
Then she looks around conspiratorially and tells him the neighbors won't mind. His bark of laughter is loud enough that if she does have any, they definitely heard. "I don't think you would care if they did," he points out, mischief catching.
Somehow the suggestion of them getting up to illicit things is safer territory. That's what this entire place wants them to do. Surely that's nothing to pay attention to. Nothing that means anything between them.
Besides, doesn't she need help with her house? He'd love to have a regular bath -- they can get credit for all the fucking they're doing. It's reasonable, as far as this jail goes.
He slides a hand down her arm and up her back, and this time when he kisses her his tongue joins in, searching until he gets a good gasp from her.
"Is this what you were thinking about while I was gone? Taking you in the garden?" Maybe he doesn't want the real answer to that question, but the ease of their game fits better than...whatever was happening a minute ago.
"You are pretty great to look at," she agrees, her tone kept carefully light, avoiding letting herself dwell on how true that was. When he leans in and kisses her again it's a welcome distraction, one Aerith lets herself lean into fully. Her lips part at the gentle brush of his tongue, eager to deepen that kiss, a pleasant shiver tickling down her spine in response.
"I thought you wanted to help me with my house," Aerith counters softly, the tip of her tongue brushing over his bottom lip. "Testing how strong the fence is, is helping." Maybe. Probably. It's not hurting anything anyway!
Most importantly, it's not being caught in a weird, elating kind of stalemate where she's caught in a loop of smiling at him stupidly, while fighting off a thousand things she has no business thinking or saying.
"You're not bad yourself," he agrees like she hasn't caught him staring at her in the last day. Like he isn't now.
By the time she brushes her tongue over his lip, there is no doubt she can feel him hardening between them. "I can stop and go back to house tasks," he teases, turning his head away just enough she has to either chase him with her mouth or turn his face back to her.
And he's not thinking about whether it's alright that he wants her to chase him, expects her to protest him pulling away. Maybe there's something in these flowers making him like this, and if so, he doesn't mind.
The way he turns draws a girlish laugh from her, and Aerith unwraps an arm so she can bring a gentle hand to his cheek, and guide his face back to look at her, color rising to her face while she smiles at him, perhaps more adoringly than she should.
"You could," she offers quietly, her thumb brushing across his cheek before she presses her lips against his again. "But, there are better things we could do, too." Which would be ludicrous to suggest any other time, because there is a lot of work to be done, and Aerith doesn't usually shy away from getting her hands dirty while fixing something up, be it the house or that little patch of garden she's made for herself in the North Yard.
"I mean if you really want to fix my house, and cook me dinner, and take a bath with me, that sounds like a pretty nice day too, but," Aerith trails off, looking over her shoulder at the fence behind him before she returns her attention to Balthier, her stupid heart skipping a stupid beat very stupidly. "If the neighbors don't mind."
There's no reason her touch should make his heart skip. She's touched his cheek and kissed him a hundred times, probably in the last day. His grin is bright and wide, though, and he receives her kiss eagerly, chuckling at her teasing invite, a wave of...something going through him at it being offered again.
"I frankly couldn't give a chocobo's ass what the neighbors think," he informs her. And this time while he kisses her, he guides her hips to his, rolling his growing bulge against the front of her dress. He curls an arm around her to keep her there, the other coming to run over her breast, fingertips teasing the edge of the fabric.
The temptation is too great, and he bends his head down as he slides his hand inside her dress, pushing the fabric away to expose her breast to the sun for a brief moment before he envelops it with his mouth, biting at her nipple as he rocks against her, bolstered by the strange zing of being outside where someone could catch them.
Moving with him, she's all too happy to angle herself against the hardening press of his cock through the fabric of his pants, resting her thigh lightly against the side of Balthier's hip as he guides her leg around him, bolstered by the way he grins at her. There's an added level of happiness that comes along with this closeness, one that Aerith does not dare let herself dwell on, deciding it's easier to lean into it and choose to believe it's all just the residual softness of their ordeal and recovery from the night before.
"You know what chocobos are?" She asks in a delighted murmur between kisses, not bothering to dig that deeply, instead cozily leaning herself into him, a hand moving between their bodies to tug the skirt of her dress up and out from between them, wanting him to feel the warmth of her sex against his length each time he let his hips tilt closer to hers. If there were any neighbors, it's a very trivial matter compared with the nearness and increasingly familiar warmth of Balthier's body.
She shivers, feeling fresh air as it travels over her newly exposed breast, and turns her head, laughing gently against his neck as the gentle bite to her nipple pulls a gasp out of her. "Can we? Right here?" It's not a question so much as it is a giddily issued invitation. She wants him everywhere she can have him, and in that moments it's okay to feel that way.
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She's been with others here, like Anna, who she's been comfortable enough to cuddle and laugh with after fooling around, but this still feels like a departure from that. Aerith has a deep appreciation for Balthier's friendship, but this feels different - like if she tried hard enough she would be able to forget their circumstances and enjoy this as nothing more than a great night with a sweet, wonderful guy. It feels like they've forgotten to be prisoners long enough to sink into being people together, and it's hard not to want more of that.
Her fingers trace along the side of his face before descending to his chest, tracing abstract patterns on his skin. "I guess you're going to have to see me a lot then, to make sure you're getting your fill."
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He hasn't quite put the thought together, but that's exactly what this is: forgetting to be prisoners and getting to be people together. Even before all this, outside Fran hardly anyone saw past his guile to the person behind it. Aerith barely knows him, all things considered, and yet he feels naked with her in the best possible way.
She's snuggled up against him, her weight warm and reassuring, and he can't think of anything he wants more as her touch wanders down his body. He hums happily even before her invitation. Heat spreads across his cheeks as his fingers smooth through her hair. "I guess I will," he agrees, almost disbelieving that she's asking that of him, allowing it, really. And yet he knows that he's already eager to see her again, mind pleased to have the helps she needs with the house as a pretense to see her.
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The night has ended so much better than it began that it almost pains her to even so much as elude to what happened before they came here. As soft and beautiful as Balthier's made everything feel, there's still a nagging concern darkening the corners of her otherwise dazed and content thoughts. It makes her duck her head down, resting it against his chest as the hand tracing along his skin moves down to rest against his heart, eyes ticking upward to peer at him from this angle.
"Balthier, are you really okay?"
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"I think so," he says honestly. "Very much thanks to you." He smoothes her hair away from her face, gently guiding it all to one side as he looks at her. It's impossible to tell for certain, not until time passes, but he suspects it will be easier to quiet with the way he was so beautifully cared for after. That wasn't something those old memories had attached at all.
"Let's think of prettier things tonight, hmm?" he asks. "Like the luxury of a double bed and good company."
They stay awake awhile longer, murmuring and snuggling together, until the exhaustion catches up and claims them both. Whenever he wakes in the night, it isn't for long, just enough to resettle around her and place a few sleepy kisses on her shoulders or head. At some point that waking is in the quiet light of morning, and sleepy kisses grow longer until they're tangled together again, slow sweet sex still somehow swelling to crescendo too quickly.
Eventually they grow hungry and thirsty and all the other damnable human needs that break their perfect cocoon. But as he gathers his clothes, Aerith makes it clear he's welcome back shortly, and some odd dance of conversation produces a sideways agreement of bringing back safe meat to cook and helping with some fence or or broken floor or whatever it was she said because he's distracted by how much she's smiling.
He's gone longer than he means, having trouble finding Fran and needing to clean his clothes. By the time he's laying his delivery of meat on Aerith's counter, freshly showered and dressed, he's feeling almost shy at being back here, wondering at having only just been here that morning.
"We've another hour or two of daylight," he grins at her. "How are you going to put me to use?"
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The close proximity she maintains in her sleep is renewed all over again in the morning when she wakes up for real and finds him as wonderful in the early light of day as he had been last night. Getting lost in Balthier proved to be as good a way to wake up as it was a way to fall asleep, and it's only because she wants to take a bath and properly wash her hair that she lets him leave that afternoon. The state of the house she's been given isn't ideal, but it gives her lots of material to work with while she's coming up with excuses for him to return, feeling it very important for reasons Aerith isn't addressing right now that she offers him ones that aren't - I already want to see you again even though you're still here.
The smile on her face stays where it is as she goes through her afternoon, first cleaning herself up before turning her attention to tidying her room, ignoring the way her cheeks flush every time she spares a glance towards the rumpled blankets piled on the mattresses in the corner.
By the time he comes back she's made her way downstairs, resuming the ongoing task of getting the kitchen into some kind of shape when he returns with a giant hunk of dinner.
"Oh wow," she perks up from the far end of the room, where she's been using a broom to sweep out a pantry. "Usually, I prefer flowers, but, I'm starving." Aerith crosses the room to where Balthier stands, her hand resting on the small of his back as she smiles up at him, his question pulling a little chuckle from her. As always, it's not that difficult to imagine things Balthier could do that would be very useful.
"I've got a trellis outside that needs to be attached to the top of the fence, and," she tips her head towards him. "Since you are my favorite tall, handsome friend..."
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Not that he'd mind in the given company, but he also cherishes all their sober time together deeply. And he's still a little stunned they've had sex technically three times in less than a day, even if one was not ideal.
"Am I not your only tall, handsome friend?" he teases lightly, enjoying that their games extend to playful conversation. It's just...easy to be with her. "Lead the way. Unless you want me to cook this first."
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Even though Aerith is no expert on these things, she can tell that the situation between them has changed, the word friend feeling like a more awkward fit than it did this time yesterday. It's something she wants to be careful with, as unsure of what to make of it as she is, so she stops herself before she says anything more damning, like telling him he's her favorite friend.
"You're going to cook for me too?" Her eyes widen, and she takes a step towards the door, the hand on his back leading him along. "I guess there's no way around inviting you to stay for dinner then, huh?" As though she would even consider doing otherwise.
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Perhaps he's misstepped in offering to cook for her, even if his grin at her inviting him to stay is quick and wide. "Alas, I'm a snob about food. Have I managed to hide this from you? Must be why you like me so much -- haven't found any of my flaws yet."
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"You never told me that, but, I figured you must live a pretty fancy life." Her hand falls away from his back, catching his hand briefly to tug him towards the fence once they step outside. "That room at the palace, remember? You said it looked like your ship."
Aerith stops after they reach the fence, gesturing towards a salvaged square of latticed wood. "If you can hang it up there for me, my moonflowers will have somewhere to go," she points towards a stout nail sticking out of the high hanging top of the fencepost before her hand goes to her hip, fixing him with a smirk. "Then I'll let you cook dinner for me."
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He follows her fluidly, momentarily distracted when she takes his hand and by the words that followed. For some reason, he's touched that she remembers, and maybe a little uncertain about what she knows about him. It hadn't really mattered that night, but now it feels like maybe it does.
"I've lived a life of finery and one of very little resources," he shrugs, drawing much less attention to it than he feels. "I prefer nice things when I can get them. Like my ship."
The lattice gives him safer territory to navigate, and it's easy enough to lift the lattice and maneuver it onto the nail. He's done significantly harder under significantly more pressure and less light. "Moon flowers, hmm? Are they special?"
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It's almost funny - flirting with him like this after so many things have already happened between them. There shouldn't be that much left to feel out, and yet as she chatters on cheerfully, Aerith can't help but get the sense there's a lot that remains to be turned over and explored when it comes to the progressively complex issue of Balthier.
She casts that line of thinking aside for the time being, far too interested in listening to Balthier talk while he hangs up her future trellis for her. "I bet it's a great ship. The airships in my world were pretty rare, but they always sounded wonderful."
In a smooth, graceful movement she hops up onto the fence by the spot he's working, sitting down and swinging her legs while looking on. "They bloom at night, and I'll be able to smell them from my room."
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And for him, flirting is safer territory, something he does without thinking. It is odd, though, for this to feel new when there's so much they've crossed together.
"Ah, your world had airships? Interesting. You're the first person who's said so." His voice shifts as he talks about the Strahl, wistful and proud. "My ship was one of a kind. Military prototype, only one made. Stole it. Stripped the interior and refinished it, mostly myself, hired some workers for parts. Fran and I have lived on it for near a decade. World's best apartment. Maybe the universe's.'
When he glances over, she's sitting on the fence listening to him thoughtfully, legs swinging, and the smile he gives her is warm and full of affection. "I always liked night blooming flowers -- a lot of them in the deserts. They suit you." And because he can't help himself, "You'll have to point the scent out sometime when I'm over."
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Aerith smiles as he describes his life before arriving here, trying to piece together an image in her mind of what life as a pirate aboard an airship must be like. It's a little beyond the frame of reference she has from things seen in passing on the television or heard in stories, but it sounds wonderful, and more than that, it sounds so perfectly him.
A detail she feels weird about pointing out and so refrains, even if she couldn't say why. "It sounds like a lot more than an apartment," she begins. "Were you always in danger?"
Smiling at him even while she tries not to imagine what future visits from him might entail, Aerith nods, humming in agreement before she holds a hand out towards him. "Hey, help me get down." She could absolutely hop down by herself as easily as she hopped up, but, that wasn't the point.
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Still, safer to latch onto the other conversation, and he's nothing if not a man who listens to his instincts. "Apartment. Transportation. Military grade defense systems. Cache of priceless artifacts and illicit magick. She has her charms." He laughs at the other question though. "I would say technically yes and practically speaking, no. Usually if we made it back to the Strahl, we were more or less in the clear." It's been...months since he's talked about any of that. There's something pleasant about it, and a little wistful.
Aerith brings his attention back to the present though, holding out a hand and giving him another order so easily he almost says yes, my lady. There's a tiny flush in his cheeks even as he smiles at her, offering his hand and steadying her as she jumps down. And then lingering a beat too long with her hand in his and his frame around her, making sure she's stable, noticing the way she smells clean and warm, mind drifting back to being in the blankets with her all night like it happened weeks ago and a thousand miles away.
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"You see more of me than most people do." To her credit, she doesn't wince, even though she wants to, saying something like that to him. Aerith shakes her head, glad for the talk of the Strahl for a multitude of reasons. "Maybe one day you can draw me a picture of your ship, I'd like to see it." Just when she thinks she can't inadvertently expose herself anymore in this conversation.
Since she doesn't know what's going on here, exactly, she can't tell if Balthier helping her down has made things better or worse. Looking up at him while he's close, she's pretty sure it's better, even if the desire to kiss him while he stands there, and the uncertainty over whether she should feels preposterous, all things considered. Aerith's expression softens, and she reaches up, smoothing out the front of his vest where it's creased, presumably from hanging the trellis, or she's making up excuses to touch him.
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"That's not a bad idea. I wonder if the commissary has drawing supplies -- might be good for me." It's a habit he picks up when he's stressed. Hasn't in awhile, but he's decent.
Those thoughts are derailed when she's suddenly nearly in his arms again. Before he can decide what he's going to do about that, she's smoothing her hand down his chest, and he knows exactly how she would fit if he just curled around her, head on her chin -- and do? What?
The result is he's just staring at her, lips parted and brow just barely wrinkled. His hands come up to her sides but don't quite touch and honestly it's the first time in probably years he's genuinely not sure what to do with himself.
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Arching an eyebrow she glances down at his hands, laughing in surprise when she looks back at his face, eyes widening expectantly. "Um," she lifts her hands, covering his and guiding them to rest on her sides. "Better?" Aerith tries not to sound hopeful when she asks, ignoring the silly little flutter that moves through her chest at the thought that he wanted to touch her. He's touched her lots of times, there's no reason for it.
Disguising her nervousness poorly with another spell of gentle laughter, Aerith sets her hands on his shoulders before rising onto the balls of her feet to resolutely press a kiss to his lips, having no idea why it felt like such a gamble.
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This is absurd. He's been with her numerous times. Nothing has changed, and a hand at a waist is hardly something to get ruffled over.
Which makes it that much more ridiculous when she stretches up to kiss him and he hums in surprised delight, hands tightening around her middle as he leans into her. Nervousness and heat flare in his stomach and he can't help pulling her to him. The way their bodies fit together is starting to feel familiar, and some part of him is screaming to abort, but the rest of him is kissing her back like he never wants to stop.
He breaks away, eyes searching her face. For what? Asking if this is okay? He gives her a lopsided grin, as much at himself as anything. "We seem to be unable to keep our hands to ourselves." Not that he withdraws them, he just -- doesn't want to cross some line he feels like is there.
Even if he's absolutely aware that somehow his cock is starting to harden. Again.
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The crooked smile on Balthier's face makes Aerith's stomach do a little flip, her jaw tensing as she fights with herself and the rising urge to tell him how beautiful he looks like that. She's called him beautiful before in far more tawdry circumstances, but fully clothed kissing in a field feels like a step too far.
He is beautiful though, in a way that makes her stop and stare up at him before forcing herself to look away, glancing left and right as if to verify something for herself.
Looking back at him, Aerith rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't think I have neighbors who'll mind." She didn't know if she had neighbors, period.
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Then she looks around conspiratorially and tells him the neighbors won't mind. His bark of laughter is loud enough that if she does have any, they definitely heard. "I don't think you would care if they did," he points out, mischief catching.
Somehow the suggestion of them getting up to illicit things is safer territory. That's what this entire place wants them to do. Surely that's nothing to pay attention to. Nothing that means anything between them.
Besides, doesn't she need help with her house? He'd love to have a regular bath -- they can get credit for all the fucking they're doing. It's reasonable, as far as this jail goes.
He slides a hand down her arm and up her back, and this time when he kisses her his tongue joins in, searching until he gets a good gasp from her.
"Is this what you were thinking about while I was gone? Taking you in the garden?" Maybe he doesn't want the real answer to that question, but the ease of their game fits better than...whatever was happening a minute ago.
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"I thought you wanted to help me with my house," Aerith counters softly, the tip of her tongue brushing over his bottom lip. "Testing how strong the fence is, is helping." Maybe. Probably. It's not hurting anything anyway!
Most importantly, it's not being caught in a weird, elating kind of stalemate where she's caught in a loop of smiling at him stupidly, while fighting off a thousand things she has no business thinking or saying.
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By the time she brushes her tongue over his lip, there is no doubt she can feel him hardening between them. "I can stop and go back to house tasks," he teases, turning his head away just enough she has to either chase him with her mouth or turn his face back to her.
And he's not thinking about whether it's alright that he wants her to chase him, expects her to protest him pulling away. Maybe there's something in these flowers making him like this, and if so, he doesn't mind.
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"You could," she offers quietly, her thumb brushing across his cheek before she presses her lips against his again. "But, there are better things we could do, too." Which would be ludicrous to suggest any other time, because there is a lot of work to be done, and Aerith doesn't usually shy away from getting her hands dirty while fixing something up, be it the house or that little patch of garden she's made for herself in the North Yard.
"I mean if you really want to fix my house, and cook me dinner, and take a bath with me, that sounds like a pretty nice day too, but," Aerith trails off, looking over her shoulder at the fence behind him before she returns her attention to Balthier, her stupid heart skipping a stupid beat very stupidly. "If the neighbors don't mind."
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"I frankly couldn't give a chocobo's ass what the neighbors think," he informs her. And this time while he kisses her, he guides her hips to his, rolling his growing bulge against the front of her dress. He curls an arm around her to keep her there, the other coming to run over her breast, fingertips teasing the edge of the fabric.
The temptation is too great, and he bends his head down as he slides his hand inside her dress, pushing the fabric away to expose her breast to the sun for a brief moment before he envelops it with his mouth, biting at her nipple as he rocks against her, bolstered by the strange zing of being outside where someone could catch them.
Let them. Right now, she was his.
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"You know what chocobos are?" She asks in a delighted murmur between kisses, not bothering to dig that deeply, instead cozily leaning herself into him, a hand moving between their bodies to tug the skirt of her dress up and out from between them, wanting him to feel the warmth of her sex against his length each time he let his hips tilt closer to hers. If there were any neighbors, it's a very trivial matter compared with the nearness and increasingly familiar warmth of Balthier's body.
She shivers, feeling fresh air as it travels over her newly exposed breast, and turns her head, laughing gently against his neck as the gentle bite to her nipple pulls a gasp out of her. "Can we? Right here?" It's not a question so much as it is a giddily issued invitation. She wants him everywhere she can have him, and in that moments it's okay to feel that way.
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