In Each Other

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up. I've been insanely busy with RPing and other writing projects. That combined with work hasn't left me much time to work on fanfics, but I had today off so I sat down and worked on this in between playing Chrono Cross. I've got the next chapter started and I know where all this is going, and I know where it's going to end. So enjoy more foolishly stubborn boys and come back for more!

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Norris awoke suddenly sometime in the evening, overwhelmed by the scent of flowers. He had been dreaming, of what he was not sure, but towards the end of the dream he'd found himself drowning in a sea of fragrant blue, face tickled and stroked by velvet fingers. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, not by a long shot, so when he cracked open one eye to find his field of vision obscured by a huge bouquet, his first instinct was to laugh. Of course, when he opened his mouth, several petals fell in and he ended up sputtering and chuckling, swatting at the blossoms in an attempt to gain some breathing room.

"Orlha, is that you?" he managed, his lips closing around another mouthful of flowers. The bouquet vanished, leaving behind bits and pieces of itself in his hair and scattered along his face. His grin froze and melted away like ice in the sun when, instead of violet eyes, a pair of bright amber irises appeared before him.

"Nope." Karsh wrinkled his nose and tapped the flowers against his chin, comically thoughtful. "I suppose if it'd make you more comfortable I could put my hair in those little ponytails, but I'm gonna have to draw the line at wearing a skirt." He beamed down at the prone soldier. "I just don't have the legs for it."

Sighing, Norris sat up. Of course... it had to be Karsh. It couldn't have been Sprigg or Orlha or hell, even Glenn, who Norris found a bit disconcerting at the best of times. No, it had to be Karsh with his damned grinning and his damned flowers and his damned larger-than-life presence. "Please don't," he murmured, brushing petals out of his hair and discarding them on the table beside his bed. "I don't think I could handle that sight..." Perhaps if he simply didn't look at Karsh, the Deva would take the hint and go away...

"Yeah, I guess you're still a little fragile." Karsh chuckled, the baritone growl reverberating in Norris's chest. "Anyway, I just dropped by to bring you these." He dropped the flowers into Norris's lap, where they cascaded across the blankets in a wild tumble of deep blue and green. "Oh, and this..." A small basket joined the flowers and Norris, in spite of himself, looked up quizically at the Dragoon.

Bad idea number one. Karsh was practically quivering with exuberance, eyes sparkling, lips smiling, cheeks flushed with a healthy golden glow from the sun. He was gorgeous and Norris wanted very badly to lean up and kiss him. Instead, he tore his eyes away and turned them to the basket in his lap. It was covered by a white cloth with blue flowers embroidered all about the edges; obviously someone had worked on it very painstakingly for a long time. Cautiously, Norris lifted the napkin and gasped.

The basket was full to bursting with baked goods. Breads, littered with seeds and cooked to golden perfection. Rolls that had been twisted into elaborate shapes, their crisp buttery crusts flaking under his searching fingers. Pastries wrapped up so that their honeyed outsides didn't stick to the other foods. It smelled absolutely incredible and, for the first time since the accident, Norris's mouth watered.

"Karsh?" He managed to resist the impulse to look up, knowing that if he did he wouldn't be strong enough this time to turn away. "What is this?"

"Present from my mum," Karsh answered, a note of distinct pride in his voice. "She said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and I guess I have to believe her, cause that's how she caught my da, after all, and--"

"Karsh!" Norris glowered at the bread and forced his hands to remain still. "I'm not your father, and there is no way you're getting anywhere near my heart, all right?" If Karsh had been anyone else, it might have worked. There was nothing Norris liked better than fresh baked bread, and he very rarely got to sample any.

"No, you aren't." Karsh's voice had lost none of its cheerfulness. In fact, it seemed to grow more and more delighted with each word, as though he could sense Norris's desire to reach into the basket and tear off a piece of bread. "You're quite a lot prettier than Da, for one, and not near so cranky." He paused then, obviously expecting another interruption. When none was forthcoming, he continued. "Anyway, Ma says that I'm already near to your heart, I just gotta make you realize that, cause you're a stupid, stubborn man just like Da was."

There were so many things to say to that. He was the stupid, stubborn one? Karsh kept coming around, even though he'd been firmly turned away. Clearly, he had a problem with hearing the word "no" in any context. And then there was the running analogy that compared the two of them to Karsh's parents. Well, he'd met Karsh's mother and maybe they looked a bit alike, but there was nothing of Zippa in Karsh's attitudes. If anything, Karsh was his father, and Norris the stubborn metal he was trying to hammer into shape. The compliments Norris chose to ignore. It would only encourage Karsh if he let himself become rattled by them.

"You told your mother?" Norris asked cautiously, settling on what seemed the least likely subject to provoke a fight.

"I did," Karsh confirmed, idly plucking a flower from the discarded bouquet and twirling it between his fingers. "Sat down and told her everything. That's what mums are for, after all." Norris sighed and closed his eyes. He hated the thought that he was a topic of conversation around the dinner table, and hated even more that they had evidently treated him as a problem to be solved.

"Listen, Karsh," he murmured, fingers idly stroking the wicker basket, tracing the patterns of woven branches. "I would appreciate you not telling anyone else, all right? This is bad enough without the entire world finding out about it." He stopped for a moment, then lifted his eyes to Karsh's face. It wasn't as bad this time; Karsh was still gorgeous, but some of tstrastrangely appealing boyish energy had drained away. He looked more like the Karsh Norris was used to. "Who else knows?"

"Well..." Karsh's eyes darted away and he shifted a little bit. Norris sat up a bit straighter, the nervous churning in his stomach clashing with the tight anger and warring for dominance. Karsh sensed the change, and his eyes narrowed in return, gleaming defensively. "Only Orlha," he growled. Norris was almost relieved by Karsh's reaction. At least he was behaving normally now. "I didn't tell her, though, she just knew. It's what she does."

Norris accepted that with a small nod. It was indeed what Orlha did. She could sense discontent from three miles away, and she'd be the first one there to try and fix it. Besides, if Norris had had to tell someone about what was going on, Orlha would have been the one he chose. "No one else, though, right?" he asked. Karsh shook his head, and Norris let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Why are you so touchy about this?" Karsh demanded. The usual anger was there, but behind it was a kind of wounded confusion. He genuinely didn't understand why Norris resisted him. It almost made Norris feel sorry for the Dragoon.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Norris shot back, blue eyes bright and fierce with an anger that he didn't feel. He knew well enough why Karsh was being stubborn. If the Deva was feeling half what he himself felt, there was nothing else for it but to continue pressing, continue insisting. But Norris knew that for both of their sakes he would have to be the strong one. Neither of them could afford the distraction.

"Because, dammit, I love you!"

For a moment, all Norris could do was stare. He'd known, of course, in the back of his mind that the words would have to be said sometime. He hadn't expected them so soon, though, or in such an anguished tone of voice. That pain almost broke him; he actually caught himself leaning into Karsh before he came to his senses and went rigid again. Karsh didn't mean it. He had to keep telling himself that. Karsh didn't mean it, it was only a ploy, he simply wanted to get his way. That was why he'd brought bread and pastries and a bouquet of flowers. That was all. As long as he believed that, everything would be all right.

"You don't mean that," Norris said firmly, staring Karsh full in the face. Karsh could only stare back helplessly, as though pinned by Norris's eyes. The young soldier hated that he had to do this, hated that it had to be this way between them. He wished they'd never gone to that damned marsh together. He wish things had stayed as they were, wary and suspicious but with that hint of mutual respect to keep the peace. Things had been simple then. They were miserable now.

"I... guess not." Karsh rose slowly and without his usual lumbering grace. He looked like a puppet being tugged up one string at a time, jerky and uncertain. Obviously, he was rattled by what he'd said, and by Norris's response. "I'll go then."

Norris let him go, though he couldn't watch the retreat. There had been a note of finality in Karsh's voice when he'd spoken that last sentence, like the slamming of a book. He wouldn't be around again. Norris knew that as surely as he knew his own name. Karsh was stubborn and blockheaded, but he was no masochist and he had his pride. It was with some degree of sorrow that Norris watched him go. The attention, while it had lasted, had at least been somewhat flattering.

The cloth that divided him from the rest of the world fluttered shut, and Norris sighed. Finally, he could allow himself to rest back on the pillows and take stock of his feelings. The loss didn't surprise him, nor did the anger. Also expected were the relief, the sorrow, the guilt, and the fear. What shocked him was the deep, churning uncertainty. It had been a long, long time since he had been truly uncertain about anything, and it was as unfamiliar to him as the bottom of the ocean. Yet there it was, clenching his gut and scattering his thoughts and slicking his palms with sweat. It mocked him from deep inside, and Norris closed his eyes tight against it. He had done the right thing. He had to think that, had to cling to it, or it would destroy him.