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the_paradigmTitle: For Lack of Attention
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Characters/Pairings: Basch & Penelo, mainly.
Rating: G - Tish
Spoilers/Warnings: In a Post-Canon setting where Basch may or may not have been exonerated, but it doesn't particularly matter here, I think.
Word Count: 1800 (8 Drabbles, 2 Doubles, 2 Triples)
Summary: At an Imperial gala in Archades, Basch escorts the lovely Penelo and...things happen. Stop at Part 3 if you want to keep it innocent, keep reading if you want to intimately scratch my brain.
1——For Lack of Attention
“You have foregone your plaits,” he remarks quietly when she turns for him in her new dress.
She stops to look at him, and her bright eyes seem to laugh. “Basch, I haven’t worn braids in at least a year now,” she says with a small shrug of her shoulders, regarding him with a gentle, knowing smile. She was never going to be taller, she had said once, and with some chagrin. But that did not mean she would not grow, he had responded; she would still be a woman someday.
His throat tightens. He had not noticed, until now.
2——A Vertical Challenge
Larsa had lamented that it would not be proper for him to escort her himself to the gala, and thus had given Basch leave to attend. Basch, ever the servant and always the friend, was more than happy to accommodate the arrangement, and Penelo found herself far from disappointed by the turn of events. He made her feel like a prized jewel on his arm, the way he smiled and introduced her to diplomats his equal.
Even when donning heels, she was dwarfed by his height. She had hoped, this time, she would be able to steal a kiss.
Alas.
3——Intentional
“I know what you are doing,” Basch whispered, his breath tickling the loose hair around her ear. Penelo laughed breathily, her heart skipping a beat. Did he? Her fingers spidered over the back of his neck as he turned her expertly about the ballroom.
“Oh?” she inquired, pulling back to grin up at him. He was struggling to remain relaxed, with his hand on her waist and his eyes ever watchful for threat.
“You are going to get me fired,” he murmured through a forged smile, but his eyes were mirthful as he spun her directly in front of Larsa.
4——Bait and Switch
Vaan watched from the corner of the room. Penelo fanned her reddening neck and laughed at something Basch said, her gaze shining with genuine affection.
Vaan rolled his eyes. She was doing her job at least, keeping the Judge Magister occupied; finally, it seemed she convinced him she needed some air. He watched Basch lead Penelo from the room—with his hand on the small of her back, no less—towards the gardens.
Tracking Larsa—now in deep conversation with Al-Cid Margrace—Vaan determined it was time to make his move. His disguise would not keep him hidden much longer.
5——Hidden Agenda
“This is better,” Penelo breathed deeply, peering into the night sky. “It’s a shame you can’t see the stars from here.”
“There are other things worth the viewing,” Basch remarked, and though he stayed a respectable pace behind her, the tiny bumps he could see on her arms told him she understood. The moon gleamed in her straw-colored hair, against her high cheekbones, when she turned to him.
She was lovely.
“Does Lord Larsa know?” he asked finally, staring down into her rain-grey eyes. Penelo tilted her head in silent question. “That you are here for business, and not pleasure?”
6——Feint
He heard her breath catch. “What do you mean?” she laughed, casting her eyes down, blinking in earnestness. His eyes locked on her hand as she raised it, to push at him playfully, like the girl he remembered.
The second her palm met his chest, he felt the shock of Disable jolt through him. A low grunt pressed past his lips, and he stared down at Penelo, wide-eyed.
She sighed, shook her head. “I’m sorry, Basch,” she whispered, stepping into his frozen body, apology written all over her face as she met his eyes. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
7——From the Beginning
Slowly, Basch reached up a hand, touched his knuckles tenderly to her jaw. He watched her lips part in an ‘o’ of surprise, drank in her gasp as her demure countenance faded.
With a frustrated huff, Penelo ripped the hem of his jacket—a Black Belt.
Basch flashed his teeth in a rare grin. “I told you, Penelo,” Basch whispered, grabbing her wrist and holding her to him as he towered over her. “I know what you are doing. Now,” he sighed, brushing his fingers gently against the nape of her neck. “Who is your target? And where is Vaan?”
8——Classic Confidence
“I’m so sorry, m’lord,” the dark-haired servant stuttered, mentally checking his low-Archadian accent as the Rozarrian diplomat gasped and flailed, the man’s formal attire drenched now in pungent wine. Vaan whipped a kerchief from his purloined servant’s uniform and deftly began swiping it down the front of Lord Marcos’s jacket. The emissary for House Trajen spluttered softly, swatting at Vaan’s hands, and Vaan smirked inwardly at the man’s own determination to remain inconspicuous through the incident. “Shall I retrieve you another jacket, sir?”
“Just go!” Lord Marcos hissed, slapping Vaan’s hand one last time before waving a hand in dismissal.
9——Temptation
Basch staggered from the unforeseen gut-check—then the uppercut—more from surprise than from pain. He taught her this; he taught her this. He had enough wherewithal to bypass the leg-sweep, reach out and swipe her wrist with a forceful grip. Penelo cried out, and his instinct as her former protector was to release her, but she was too good and knew this. He reeled her in like a flailing fish—a prize—and bared his teeth down at her in a glare befitting a disappointed father.
But he was not her father. And—gods—her grey eyes were fire.
—
Vaan slipped out of the ballroom and into the servant’s corridor, laying the kerchief over his forearm as he wove deftly through the other wait staff. He was eager to get this color out of his hair and the stench of Archadia off of his skin. The stone he swiped burned in his pocket, as did the questions in the back of his mind.
House Trajen of Rozarria was up to something vile. He could feel it in the way the auracite pulsed against his chest, as if with a life of its own.
He had to find Penelo. Now.
10——A Different Kind of Dance
Penelo knew he would never intentionally hurt her, and it was a big part of what made him so easy. She let him pull her close—just long enough for her to inhale his scent—before she pressed her free hand against his, the one holding her wrist. She pushed—swung her captured arm—and grabbed him in turn, twisting his arm until he was hunched. She shoved him down, and Basch growled as he was forced into a kneeling position through his locked shoulder.
He did not go down easy.
With a near battle cry, Basch threw his weight down, rolled, swiped her feet with his legs. In her skirts, Penelo missed the mark and fell into his guard, where his legs hooked around her waist, her tiny body trapped between his thighs, and she fell forward with a yelp. Her shoulders fell against his chest as he forced her wrists into an armlock behind her back.
Her breath came in hot bursts against his neck as she wriggled, tucking her knees into the ground for leverage.
“Penelo, stop this,” Basch heaved as she writhed, locking his torso when she gained purchase on the ground with her feet, trying to lift him and get her knees under his hips for a guard break.
Penelo nipped at his chin with her teeth in response.
Basch yelped at the sting and Penelo’s gleeful laugh rang out through the gardens. She had never fought this unfairly when they trained together. With a twist of his hips, he managed to topple her down to the ground, both of them on their sides facing one another.
Her face was only centimeters from his, and he could not ignore her smile. He could ignore nothing about her, then, least of all when she kissed him.
11——Locked In
She was locked between his legs, her torso pressed against his chest, and her lips were on his, and she tasted of cherries. The shock of it sent a ragged breath through his nostrils and he had no idea why he was not pulling away except that she was kissing him again and he was kissing her back and it was sweet, and ripe, and everything he had not dared to imagine before.
He did not know when he had let her hands free except that now her palms were on his flushed cheeks, her fingers through his short beard.
Penelo held his face to hers, and she savored the taste of the wine on his lips. She nearly forgot where they were, so long she had dreamed of this one instance; she was determined not to let the circumstance ruin the moment.
But a sharp whistle from across the courtyard reminded her of the hard stone against her shoulder, and the muted music from the ballroom, and she sighed against Basch’s mouth with regret.
“This wasn’t part of the plan either, I’m afraid,” she whispered, her teeth scraping his stunned lips as she unsheathed her dagger from her belt.
—
Basch went to shout, but Penelo clamped a hand over his mouth. With one swift thrust, she tore through the buttons of his jacket, and with surgical precision relieved him of the Black Belt. She grinned, yanking the accessory from around his waist. Basch flailed for it to be back in his possession, and in doing so, released her from the trappings of his legs. Penelo muttered her incantation, rolled deftly and crouched out of his reach. This time, it hit.
Disabled, Basch could move, but not against her.
“Give me a head start,” she laughed, tossing him a Remedy.
12——Hit and Run: The Finale
“My brother, the Emperor, will send his thanks for your cooperation in this matter,” Al-Cid crooned from the doorway. “House Trajen is forever pursuing means of martial power, and it seems these rumors of the potency of auracite have become too tempting for them to neglect.”
“It is the least we can do to maintain efforts for peace,” came Larsa’s slightly deeper—but cracking—teenage tenor. “Does Vaan really think that disguise was good?”
Basch did not turn to either of them upon their entrance to the gardens. His eyes were locked on the bright-eyed girl with the mischievous grin, blowing him a kiss from across the wide courtyard, now out of his reach. The tip of his tongue lingered on his bottom lip as he watched her slip into the shadows.
“They will be back,” Al-Cid continued, his voice ever a yawning drawl, “once the pirates realize who actually hired them.”
“It is good then that they are friends,” Larsa chuckled, startling Basch by gently tapping his arm. “Our dear Penelo is ever in search of a new challenge, is she not?”
Basch’s heart raced. “Indeed, Your Excellency,” he answered gruffly, thankful that his collar covered his blushing neck.
fin.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Characters/Pairings: Basch & Penelo, mainly.
Rating: G - Tish
Spoilers/Warnings: In a Post-Canon setting where Basch may or may not have been exonerated, but it doesn't particularly matter here, I think.
Word Count: 1800 (8 Drabbles, 2 Doubles, 2 Triples)
Summary: At an Imperial gala in Archades, Basch escorts the lovely Penelo and...things happen. Stop at Part 3 if you want to keep it innocent, keep reading if you want to intimately scratch my brain.
1——For Lack of Attention
“You have foregone your plaits,” he remarks quietly when she turns for him in her new dress.
She stops to look at him, and her bright eyes seem to laugh. “Basch, I haven’t worn braids in at least a year now,” she says with a small shrug of her shoulders, regarding him with a gentle, knowing smile. She was never going to be taller, she had said once, and with some chagrin. But that did not mean she would not grow, he had responded; she would still be a woman someday.
His throat tightens. He had not noticed, until now.
2——A Vertical Challenge
Larsa had lamented that it would not be proper for him to escort her himself to the gala, and thus had given Basch leave to attend. Basch, ever the servant and always the friend, was more than happy to accommodate the arrangement, and Penelo found herself far from disappointed by the turn of events. He made her feel like a prized jewel on his arm, the way he smiled and introduced her to diplomats his equal.
Even when donning heels, she was dwarfed by his height. She had hoped, this time, she would be able to steal a kiss.
Alas.
3——Intentional
“I know what you are doing,” Basch whispered, his breath tickling the loose hair around her ear. Penelo laughed breathily, her heart skipping a beat. Did he? Her fingers spidered over the back of his neck as he turned her expertly about the ballroom.
“Oh?” she inquired, pulling back to grin up at him. He was struggling to remain relaxed, with his hand on her waist and his eyes ever watchful for threat.
“You are going to get me fired,” he murmured through a forged smile, but his eyes were mirthful as he spun her directly in front of Larsa.
4——Bait and Switch
Vaan watched from the corner of the room. Penelo fanned her reddening neck and laughed at something Basch said, her gaze shining with genuine affection.
Vaan rolled his eyes. She was doing her job at least, keeping the Judge Magister occupied; finally, it seemed she convinced him she needed some air. He watched Basch lead Penelo from the room—with his hand on the small of her back, no less—towards the gardens.
Tracking Larsa—now in deep conversation with Al-Cid Margrace—Vaan determined it was time to make his move. His disguise would not keep him hidden much longer.
5——Hidden Agenda
“This is better,” Penelo breathed deeply, peering into the night sky. “It’s a shame you can’t see the stars from here.”
“There are other things worth the viewing,” Basch remarked, and though he stayed a respectable pace behind her, the tiny bumps he could see on her arms told him she understood. The moon gleamed in her straw-colored hair, against her high cheekbones, when she turned to him.
She was lovely.
“Does Lord Larsa know?” he asked finally, staring down into her rain-grey eyes. Penelo tilted her head in silent question. “That you are here for business, and not pleasure?”
6——Feint
He heard her breath catch. “What do you mean?” she laughed, casting her eyes down, blinking in earnestness. His eyes locked on her hand as she raised it, to push at him playfully, like the girl he remembered.
The second her palm met his chest, he felt the shock of Disable jolt through him. A low grunt pressed past his lips, and he stared down at Penelo, wide-eyed.
She sighed, shook her head. “I’m sorry, Basch,” she whispered, stepping into his frozen body, apology written all over her face as she met his eyes. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
7——From the Beginning
Slowly, Basch reached up a hand, touched his knuckles tenderly to her jaw. He watched her lips part in an ‘o’ of surprise, drank in her gasp as her demure countenance faded.
With a frustrated huff, Penelo ripped the hem of his jacket—a Black Belt.
Basch flashed his teeth in a rare grin. “I told you, Penelo,” Basch whispered, grabbing her wrist and holding her to him as he towered over her. “I know what you are doing. Now,” he sighed, brushing his fingers gently against the nape of her neck. “Who is your target? And where is Vaan?”
8——Classic Confidence
“I’m so sorry, m’lord,” the dark-haired servant stuttered, mentally checking his low-Archadian accent as the Rozarrian diplomat gasped and flailed, the man’s formal attire drenched now in pungent wine. Vaan whipped a kerchief from his purloined servant’s uniform and deftly began swiping it down the front of Lord Marcos’s jacket. The emissary for House Trajen spluttered softly, swatting at Vaan’s hands, and Vaan smirked inwardly at the man’s own determination to remain inconspicuous through the incident. “Shall I retrieve you another jacket, sir?”
“Just go!” Lord Marcos hissed, slapping Vaan’s hand one last time before waving a hand in dismissal.
9——Temptation
Basch staggered from the unforeseen gut-check—then the uppercut—more from surprise than from pain. He taught her this; he taught her this. He had enough wherewithal to bypass the leg-sweep, reach out and swipe her wrist with a forceful grip. Penelo cried out, and his instinct as her former protector was to release her, but she was too good and knew this. He reeled her in like a flailing fish—a prize—and bared his teeth down at her in a glare befitting a disappointed father.
But he was not her father. And—gods—her grey eyes were fire.
—
Vaan slipped out of the ballroom and into the servant’s corridor, laying the kerchief over his forearm as he wove deftly through the other wait staff. He was eager to get this color out of his hair and the stench of Archadia off of his skin. The stone he swiped burned in his pocket, as did the questions in the back of his mind.
House Trajen of Rozarria was up to something vile. He could feel it in the way the auracite pulsed against his chest, as if with a life of its own.
He had to find Penelo. Now.
10——A Different Kind of Dance
Penelo knew he would never intentionally hurt her, and it was a big part of what made him so easy. She let him pull her close—just long enough for her to inhale his scent—before she pressed her free hand against his, the one holding her wrist. She pushed—swung her captured arm—and grabbed him in turn, twisting his arm until he was hunched. She shoved him down, and Basch growled as he was forced into a kneeling position through his locked shoulder.
He did not go down easy.
With a near battle cry, Basch threw his weight down, rolled, swiped her feet with his legs. In her skirts, Penelo missed the mark and fell into his guard, where his legs hooked around her waist, her tiny body trapped between his thighs, and she fell forward with a yelp. Her shoulders fell against his chest as he forced her wrists into an armlock behind her back.
Her breath came in hot bursts against his neck as she wriggled, tucking her knees into the ground for leverage.
“Penelo, stop this,” Basch heaved as she writhed, locking his torso when she gained purchase on the ground with her feet, trying to lift him and get her knees under his hips for a guard break.
Penelo nipped at his chin with her teeth in response.
Basch yelped at the sting and Penelo’s gleeful laugh rang out through the gardens. She had never fought this unfairly when they trained together. With a twist of his hips, he managed to topple her down to the ground, both of them on their sides facing one another.
Her face was only centimeters from his, and he could not ignore her smile. He could ignore nothing about her, then, least of all when she kissed him.
11——Locked In
She was locked between his legs, her torso pressed against his chest, and her lips were on his, and she tasted of cherries. The shock of it sent a ragged breath through his nostrils and he had no idea why he was not pulling away except that she was kissing him again and he was kissing her back and it was sweet, and ripe, and everything he had not dared to imagine before.
He did not know when he had let her hands free except that now her palms were on his flushed cheeks, her fingers through his short beard.
Penelo held his face to hers, and she savored the taste of the wine on his lips. She nearly forgot where they were, so long she had dreamed of this one instance; she was determined not to let the circumstance ruin the moment.
But a sharp whistle from across the courtyard reminded her of the hard stone against her shoulder, and the muted music from the ballroom, and she sighed against Basch’s mouth with regret.
“This wasn’t part of the plan either, I’m afraid,” she whispered, her teeth scraping his stunned lips as she unsheathed her dagger from her belt.
—
Basch went to shout, but Penelo clamped a hand over his mouth. With one swift thrust, she tore through the buttons of his jacket, and with surgical precision relieved him of the Black Belt. She grinned, yanking the accessory from around his waist. Basch flailed for it to be back in his possession, and in doing so, released her from the trappings of his legs. Penelo muttered her incantation, rolled deftly and crouched out of his reach. This time, it hit.
Disabled, Basch could move, but not against her.
“Give me a head start,” she laughed, tossing him a Remedy.
12——Hit and Run: The Finale
“My brother, the Emperor, will send his thanks for your cooperation in this matter,” Al-Cid crooned from the doorway. “House Trajen is forever pursuing means of martial power, and it seems these rumors of the potency of auracite have become too tempting for them to neglect.”
“It is the least we can do to maintain efforts for peace,” came Larsa’s slightly deeper—but cracking—teenage tenor. “Does Vaan really think that disguise was good?”
Basch did not turn to either of them upon their entrance to the gardens. His eyes were locked on the bright-eyed girl with the mischievous grin, blowing him a kiss from across the wide courtyard, now out of his reach. The tip of his tongue lingered on his bottom lip as he watched her slip into the shadows.
“They will be back,” Al-Cid continued, his voice ever a yawning drawl, “once the pirates realize who actually hired them.”
“It is good then that they are friends,” Larsa chuckled, startling Basch by gently tapping his arm. “Our dear Penelo is ever in search of a new challenge, is she not?”
Basch’s heart raced. “Indeed, Your Excellency,” he answered gruffly, thankful that his collar covered his blushing neck.
fin.