Lucetific - More Grune/Dhaos ahoy!

[seikilos]

Title: No Longer Remiss
Fandom: luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of Phantasia, Mushishi, One Piece, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, original works
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 4412
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: When Norma finds out that Dhaos has never taken Grune on a date, she's determined to take care of that lapse, pronto. Dhaos isn't so enthusiastic.
Author's Notes: And at last I've finished! This one could also be titled "Dhaos and the Unreliable Narration," because holy shit, dude, could you be less self-aware. (Signs point to no.)

This fic is showing its age, because pretty much everybody but Helios outside of the Tales cast has since gone home in Luceti. Sob.

Enjoy?

It was all Norma could do not to give herself away. The need to chortle in glee was pretty terrific, but she used all her willpower (and a fist against her lips for good measure) to keep totally silent. She just couldn't afford to get caught, because if she let out even the tiniest peep, she could say goodbye to spying on G-Girl making googly eyes at Little D as he dropped her off at House 34.

They were just so adorable. At first she'd been kinda skeptical about the idea of G-Girl having a crush on anyone, let alone Little D. Because, come on—it was G-Girl. But she was just so goofy about it that Norma couldn't help rooting for her.

As for Little D . . . well, who knew with that guy? She was almost positive the wind had changed one day while he was making his grumpy face because as far as she knew, he was permanently stuck that way.

But she had been keeping an eye on him, and she had definitely noticed he treated G-Girl differently from everyone else. There was something about his voice (it always sounded, you know, gentler to Norma's ears) and he wore a different grumpy face with her and he let her drag him absolutely everywhere. It had to be love, right?

G-Girl and Little D wrapped up their conversation, she heard the door close, and G-Girl wandered her way into the living room with a smile that was dreamy, not vague like usual. Ohohohoho.

Super-casually, Norma strolled out of her hiding place in the kitchen. (Not that she needed to bother with subterfuge. Again: G-Girl.) "So how was your hot date?" she asked with a wicked grin. Who cared that it was impossible to properly tease her? It was fun anyway.

"Hot date?" G-Girl repeated in confusion, handily proving why teasing her was useless.

"Yeah, with Little D!" Norma grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the couch. "You gotta tell me all about it!"

Immediately, G-Girl smiled. Man, she sure had it bad. "Oh, we went on a nice walk together in the forest."

Sounded boring. "Yeah, and?"

"And?"

"Yeah, what else did you guys do?" Norma prompted. It always took a million tiny steps to get any information out of G-Girl; usually, it wasn't worth it.

G-Girl adopted her finger-on-cheek-looking-off-into-space pose that was always a bad sign. "Hmm. . . . Did we do anything else?"

"You must have—that would've been a pretty boring date otherwise."

G-Girl came back to Planet Luceti long enough to shake her head. "Oh, we didn't go on a date."

. . . Wait. "You didn't?"

"No, we went on a walk.”

This . . . wasn't looking good. "Okay, sure, whatever. But he does take you on dates, right?"

G-Girl went back to pondering. "Hmm. . . . I don't think so."

"What? That big loser! Where does he get off, not taking you on any dates?" Norma demanded without looking for an answer.

Naturally, she got one anyway. "Oh, I don't know. But you should be careful with what you say so you don't hurt his feelings, Norma."

"I'm being—nice. You know, like JJ and Red—but that's not important!" Norma huffed. "Seriously, didn't anyone ever teach him how to treat a lady?"

"I'm sure they did," G-Girl answered loyally. "After all, he has very good manners."

"This doesn't have anything to do with manners, G-Girl—it's all about being a good boyfriend and not a total jerk."

"He's not—" G-Girl began, but Norma overrode her.

"Don't you worry. I'll make him take you on a date, and it'll be the best one ever!"

*

Dhaos wasn't what one could call a social individual. If he were asked to make a list of his contacts, he would be able to cite Yuan and Grune, and then further additions would require some thought.

So, when his journal sounded that evening, indicating a hail, he spent a second looking at it in mild surprise. Yuan rarely went out of his way to contact him; perhaps Grune had forgotten she had already spoken with him less than an hour ago. It seemed all too likely.

When he opened his journal, however, it was to find Norma giving him a flat look. He returned it and waited. He had no doubt that he was about to be informed in detail of whatever had displeased the girl.

He was correct. "Little D, I'm seriously disappointed in you."

". . . Indeed?" He didn't permit himself concern; the likelihood of Norma learning of his actions on Aselia was slight, even in this place.

"I've just found out from G-Girl that you've never taken her on a proper date! What kind of boyfriend are you?"

. . . Only his strong sense of courtesy stopped him from closing the journal right there. (That and the knowledge that if he did so, she would only come to pester him in person.)

"I am not her 'boyfriend,'" he settled on saying instead.

On the tiny screen of his journal, he could see Norma flap her hand. "Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever you wanna call it. The point is you're letting her down!"

"I have seen no sign of it."

She gave him a look that shouted he was being unbelievably dense. "What, you think G-Girl's gonna tell you? Come on!"

It was at this point that Dhaos began feeling somewhat—uncomfortable. He certainly didn't owe Grune any "dates"; despite what Norma believed, he and Grune were not a couple. It was an absurd idea.

But she did have a point. Grune would tolerate anything if she believed doing otherwise would cause another even a moment's unhappiness. She was selfless beyond all logic. If she was dissatisfied with the way they spent their time together, he would certainly never hear it from her.

Rather than wait for his response, Norma went on. "See? I told you. G-Girl never complains about anything, ever."

All the same, despite his slight uncertainty, he was not about to immediately give in to Norma's demands. "What is it that makes you believe Grune wishes to go on a 'date' with me? What indications has she given you?"

"Hey, are you saying I don't know my own best friend?" Dhaos was given a closeup view of Norma's fingertip as she poked the journal's camera. "Trust me, I know. So you'd better get your butt in shape right now, or else!"

He fought the urge to rub his forehead. While he knew he should simply ignore Norma and her ludicrous ideas, he also knew full well she would make it extremely difficult to do so. And—now that she had suggested the possibility that he was in some way disappointing Grune, he was certain he would have little peace. A part of him would constantly be questioning every expression that crossed her face, searching for any hidden discontent.

No doubt that had been exactly Norma's plan. He sighed.

". . . Very well."

"All right!" She gave him a huge grin, which he most definitely did not return. "I knew you were a cool guy, Little D!"

His only response to that piece of foolishness was an unimpressed look, which quelled her enthusiasm not one bit.

"Okay! Let's get planning!" She sat back in her chair. "This is gonna be great!"

*

The ideas Norma had proceeded to propose had all been overly elaborate, ridiculous, or both, and he had refused each and every one of them. In addition to being humiliating, Dhaos had the impression many of her suggestions (boating on a moonlit lake while being fed expensive chocolates, for example) were what she herself would enjoy, rather than the one he was actually meant to be courting. Grune's tastes were far simpler.

In the end, they had worn each other down to supper at Seventh Heaven. It was still far more public than he would have preferred, but at least his pride would remain somewhat intact.

. . . Or, rather, that was what he had believed when he'd at last been able to end his conversation with Norma. Some days later, however, as he departed for House 34, he began to have his doubts.

It was an extremely short trip between Community Housing 3 and House 34, particularly by air, and so he arrived well in advance of the scheduled start of their date. This was fortunate, as Norma's reaction when she answered his knock was to attempt to shove him off the doorstep. Given he was head and shoulders taller than her, she was not particularly successful.

"Okay, just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, prodding at his chest. When he refused to move, she squeezed outside and shut the door behind her.

"Arriving for this . . . event, as was agreed upon," he answered. He didn't go so far as to show his confusion; he assumed he would be informed of his offence in short order.

Which he was—somewhat. "Are you joking? You're not gonna wear that, are you?"

Dhaos reflexively looked down at his clothing. He could see nothing wrong with it. It looked precisely the same as always. He looked back up.

Norma slapped a hand to her forehead. "Geez, you'd think you'd never gone on a date before." In the tones of one speaking to a child, she explained, "You're supposed to wear something nice on a date. You can't just wear the same thing you do every day! Don't you have any romance in that gigantic body of yours?"

He only just avoided letting out a heavy sigh. "I strongly doubt Grune will care what I am wearing." She had not even cared the time she had seen him in the shower. (And now he could only be grateful for the dusk; it would hide his almost certainly pink cheeks.)

"Betcha fifty gald she'll be happier if you get dressed up all fancy," Norma retorted, then shoved at him again. "Go back and get changed right now, Little D, and don't you dare come back until you're all dolled up. G-Girl's putting a lot of effort into this for you, so you'd better do the same or else!"

Rather than inquire after Norma's almost certainly futile threat, Dhaos silently turned and left. The sooner he complied, the sooner this foolishness would be at an end.

Of course, there was the problem that he owned very little aside from his daily attire. He had already been aware of this fact, but standing before his closet and taking in its contents was showing him precisely how true it was.

There was the somewhat odd outfit he had worn to the ball last December—he hadn't bothered to get rid of it—but given he had already attended an event in it, he was under the impression Norma would deem the clothing equally unacceptable and once more order him to change. And of course she would be disinclined to accept that he had nothing else to wear. Except for. . . .

He reached out, letting his fingertips brush against rich cloth. He had found the outfit one day in the shop, a white-and-gold remainder of his days as Elusion's prince. He had no more been able to bring himself to destroy it than he had been able to leave it for someone else to wear in ignorance. In the end, he had taken the clothing, sent it to the very back of his closet, and done his best to forget he had ever seen it.

He stood before the closet for a very long time, thrusting away hazy memories as they came to him.

He pulled the clothing from its hanger.

*

"Now that's more like it!" Norma declared when he next knocked on House 34's door. "Who knew you cleaned up so good?" Then, as he lifted his brows at the backhanded compliment, she turned and bellowed, "Okay, G-Girl, he's here! Come on out!"

When Norma moved aside to allow Grune to take her place, it was then Dhaos understood why he had been sent back to change—and he uncomfortably realised that he had underestimated how much this evening meant to Grune.

Her dress was simple, of course; the elaborate did not suit her. But the silky fabric that bared one shoulder and slipped from the other was clearly several steps above her usual clothing. Her necklace was not her simple red beads or that cursed seashell necklace she occasionally forgot to remove in his presence, but a delicate crystal flower. And her hair was neither braided nor veiled, but pinned up in loose twists that appeared complex to his inexpert eye.

She was devastatingly beautiful, even he was forced to admit, and she had gone to all this effort for his sake.

"Hello, Dhaos," she greeted him, her voice a shade softer than usual. "Are you all ready to go?"

"I am." He hesitated, then offered his arm. It was a gesture he did not particularly mind when they were alone—it was something simple that made Grune happy—but before Norma was another story.

He regretted his decision immediately. Norma grinned hugely and dashed off, ordering over her shoulder, "Get inside, you two—I gotta take your picture!"

He would have preferred not to have lasting evidence of this evening, but it seemed his wishes were not to be considered. At the very least, Norma did not take an excessive amount of time with the camera. Once she discovered he could not be persuaded to offer a large smile like Grune (or any smile at all), having their picture taken was a quick affair. He did make an effort not to look as irked as he felt, but that was all.

Finally, with Norma and Sophie—who had wandered over in curiosity—waving goodbye from the doorway, they began the walk to Luceti's main plaza.

"Thank you for coming," Grune said once they were out of sight of the house. "I'm glad that we can spend time together like this."

For the first time that evening, Dhaos relaxed slightly. Grune, at least, was free of Norma's ludicrous ideas about their relationship. While the supper was clearly important to her, it was because she valued spending time with her friends. He supposed she regarded this as a . . . fancy dress picnic, perhaps.

"Mm," was his only response. No doubt that would have earned Norma's censure as well, but he and Grune had known each other for some time now. He needed to say nothing more to be understood.

Their conversation as they walked was pleasant. Grune provided most of it, of course, rambling on about the flowers she had seen, Sophie's latest achievements, and the friends she had visited. She appeared content with only the occasional word from him, which left him content as well.

As they approached the plaza, however, he began feeling decidedly less so. The number of human mana signatures had increased greatly, and while Grune would not notice, he didn't doubt that dressed as she was and with her warm smile, she would attract the wrong type of attention.

His expression dark, he pulled his arm free of Grune's hand and set his hand at the curve of her back: Grune was under his protection and he would tolerate no disrespect of her. And if the humans of Luceti were too foolish to read what that gesture meant, they would learn.

Once they were inside Seventh Heaven, he steered her toward a table at the back of the restaurant to avoid further attention. Of course, he realised immediately afterwards that his effort was in vain, for it seemed Grune knew every person in the restaurant that evening. She greeted them all with a happy smile and a wave; he received a series of startled looks but still varying levels of enthusiasm due to being in Grune's presence. She naturally knew their waitress, a motherly woman who seemed even more forgetful than Grune herself. She even knew the chef, who personally delivered their meal.

The chef, who was apparently named "Sanji," seemed to regard him with the same level of suspicion Dhaos felt about everyone else. However, as Sanji possessed the single most ridiculous set of eyebrows Dhaos had seen in his life, he found the sharp looks sent his way particularly unintimidating.

At last, though, Sanji departed and they were left alone. Grune's various friends appeared to recognise that now was not the moment to intrude and did not approach.

He soon discovered that, to his surprise, sharing a meal with Grune was nearly as pleasant as simply walking with her. It was not as private, admittedly, but the lowered lighting could allow him to believe otherwise. Even the expectation that he eat at least something was not as troublesome as he had thought it would be: it seemed Sanji was skilled enough to make eating actually somewhat enjoyable. He almost regretted ordering the smallest dish he could find—though not quite.

Once or twice during the course of their meal, Dhaos became aware that Grune was simply . . . looking at him. Her expression was warm and perhaps even tender, and while he had seen for himself the happiness Grune displayed in the presence of her army of friends, he couldn't truthfully say this was the same look. It reminded him of something—from his past, perhaps—but when he attempted to determine what it was, she lowered her gaze and resumed her meal.

No matter. The strangeness of the evening had no doubt made him see what did not exist.

They did not depart immediately after dessert (which somehow Grune had managed to talk him into eating). Once again, Grune kept up the majority of the conversation, but, in an oddly relaxed mood, Dhaos found he did not mind speaking quite as much as usual. He even occasionally forgot that they were not alone—though always a stray sound or his mana senses served to remind him otherwise.

When they emerged at last from the restaurant, Dhaos once again guided Grune with a hand to her back. The type of people that came out later in the evening had a still greater potential do her harm, as far as he was concerned. He was taking no chances.

Grune was surprisingly quiet on the route back to her house, though a quick glance at her face was all that was needed to see she was still content. Her silence allowed him time for some reflection. He was loath to admit it, but Norma had been correct. The happiness the evening had brought Grune had been clear. While there had been no need to term their outing a "date," she had obviously enjoyed the opportunity to do something different with him. He would need to think of another activity for a later occasion—one that preferably did not involve eating.

Or, instead—

He stopped walking. "Grune."

She halted to look up at him. "Yes, Dhaos?"

". . . What would you like to do?"

It had been he and Norma who had determined the evening's activities, but Grune must have had preferences of her own. The very least he could do was listen to them.

"Oh, I'm happy just spending time with you like this," she answered with a full smile.

Normally, he would accept her response at face value and move on, grateful she had not suggested anything outlandish. But Norma's words had lodged within him and would not come free.

"Are you certain there is nothing else you would rather do?" he pressed.

She hesitated, and it was then he knew that Norma had been correct again.

"Well. . ." she began, "I think it would be very nice to go flying together."

Now it was he who hesitated. Flying with Grune was bound up in those two times he had been compelled to believe he was her spouse. The thought of their false marriage always brought such a feeling of infuriating helplessness on him that he preferred to pretend the experiments had never occurred.

But if Grune had been harbouring this silent wish. . . .

He sighed. "Be sure to hold on tightly."

And at the overjoyed expression on her face, he knew that changing his mind was impossible.

With great care, he settled Grune into his arms. She did not weigh much to him; carrying her would not be taxing. The most difficult part, he knew, was navigating her dress. It was not as likely as her usual clothing to be caught unfortunately by the wind, but that hardly meant he could be inattentive.

He made one last check to be certain Grune was secure in his arms—but briefly, as having her face so near to his was somewhat disconcerting. Then, silently, he lifted into the air.

As they rose, he chose not to make use of his wings, since they would attract enough attention as it was. That seemed not to matter to Grune, judging from her giggles as the trees and road shrank in their view.

"We should fly over the village!" Grune suggested happily.

. . . He had been planning on avoiding anything but the forest to spare his dignity and her modesty, but— "Very well."

Returning the way they had come was far quicker by air, and soon he was following her requests to fly over Helios' house, to fly over Cecil's house, and so on and so on. Finally, when he'd had enough of the attention they were drawing, he left the village and flew toward the mountains. He did not intend to travel all the way out to them; it was a longer journey than he was willing to make and his arms would certainly tire before they arrived. But—if he could appreciate their wild beauty, he had great confidence that so could Grune.

As time passed, she grew quieter in his arms. He checked on her occasionally—he knew her tendency to fall asleep at odd times unfortunately well—but she seemed in no danger of drifting off. Instead, she merely seemed . . . meditative. An odd mood for one so flighty, although then again, there was much more to her than most tended to assume. It was easy to forget she was capable of a wide range of emotions.

When he felt her shivering against him in the cold air, he turned towards House 34. She neither complained about the chill nor the end of that for which she must have been longing for months, but calmly accepted it as she accepted everything.

They landed on the path just in front of her home. When he let her down, she didn't step away immediately but rested her hands on his upper arms for balance. He allowed her, his attention snagged by something else: the wind above the trees had pulled apart some of her carefully arranged hair, leaving long wisps to fall about her shoulders.

". . . Allow me." Gingerly, he tucked her hair back into place as best he was able. After all, he had no wish to be questioned about why Grune was in such a dishevelled state.

She stood perfectly still as she allowed him to work. Her scalp was warm against his cold fingers and he could only be adding to her chill, but she did not complain. When he finished, she remained where she was, her hands now on his shoulders, her face upturned. She seems to be waiting for something—or perhaps only hoping.

Without intending it, his head bent closer. Her lips parted.

In the house behind him, his mana senses picked up movement, and he quickly stepped back and away from Grune. Though it went without saying that he had no dishonourable intentions toward her, he did not wish to provide any further fuel for Norma's oversensitive imagination.

"Thank you for coming with me," Grune said at last into the silence. Her voice was once again oddly soft. "I had a very nice evening. I hope you did, too."

"I did," he replied. It was with a jolt of surprise he realised that, by saying so, he was not sparing her feelings but speaking the truth. He paused. ". . . I would not be averse to spending another evening with you in this way."

Grune's smile in response was both quiet and full, her whole expression the image of unexpected joy. It left him warm—it was such a simple thing to bring her happiness—but also uncertain. What was it about his company that made it something precious to be sought? He simply could not understand.

More movement in the house brought his attention back to the present moment, and he hesitated once more. He knew what the manners he had learned as a boy asked of him. What he ought to do next was only a formality. But the action could be so easily misinterpreted. . . .

Still. He owed Grune a proper conclusion to the evening. He could not do her the disservice of departing abruptly, even though Norma was certain to irritate him with false assumptions.

And so he reached out and took her hand from her side. He bowed and, making certain to be brief, pressed his lips to her fingers.

He raised his head. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company this evening."

"Oh, you're welcome," Grune answered automatically. She sounded almost dazed; when he released her hand, she did not return it to her side but pressed it lightly to her chest.

It was a similar reaction to the last time, at the December ball when he had concluded a dance with her. She seemed not to understand that his actions were dictated by form alone. He would need to explain the matter to her.

But not tonight. The longer he lingered, the greater the likelihood of interference. It was time to depart.

And so he inclined his head once in an echo of his bow. "Good evening."

He took to the air, then, to return to his apartment, and though his hearing was extremely sharp, he did not hear Grune move from her place even one step.

*

He changed his clothing almost the moment he entered his quarters. But when he set his white and gold prince's outfit on a hanger, he did not return it to the very back of the closet.