(no subject)
Title: Food On the Table
Author: sour_idealist
Characters/Pairings: Lightning & Serah gen
Written For: ff_fortnightly's prompt #88: Food
Spoilers: Lightning's real name, nothing else.
Ratings/Warnings: PG
A/N: Yes, more pre-game Farron angst. Drabbles are just such a perfect medium for it, because (I find) the key to a drabble is what you don't say, and their relationship pre-game is mostly about what goes unsaid.
The seventeen-year-old trainee stumbles into the kitchen, feet aching, and drops the bags of groceries on the table. One of them topples over, spilling bread and minreau melons across the table, but nonetheless the plump silver bags bring Claire no little satisfaction.
“I’m home!” she calls. Serah pokes her head around the door and grins.
“Hey, food - and you got sausages!”
Claire smiles. “Special treat.”
***
The seventeen-year-old student slides the door open and glances around. The house is empty, of course; Lightning has the evening shift on Wednesdays. She’s thrown some more gil into the food jar, though. Serah adds grocery shopping to her to-do list for tomorrow - or actually, maybe tonight, since she needs to visit the public library anyway. And if she leaves early, she can say hello to her friends on the way.
Of course, she has to stay there until at least ten if she wants to actually get anything done, which means she has to make sure that there’s something ready to eat in the fridge for whenever Lightning gets home. She ordered out last week, and they can’t afford it again. It’s summer - she can get away with cold soup and a sandwich.
Author: sour_idealist
Characters/Pairings: Lightning & Serah gen
Written For: ff_fortnightly's prompt #88: Food
Spoilers: Lightning's real name, nothing else.
Ratings/Warnings: PG
A/N: Yes, more pre-game Farron angst. Drabbles are just such a perfect medium for it, because (I find) the key to a drabble is what you don't say, and their relationship pre-game is mostly about what goes unsaid.
The seventeen-year-old trainee stumbles into the kitchen, feet aching, and drops the bags of groceries on the table. One of them topples over, spilling bread and minreau melons across the table, but nonetheless the plump silver bags bring Claire no little satisfaction.
“I’m home!” she calls. Serah pokes her head around the door and grins.
“Hey, food - and you got sausages!”
Claire smiles. “Special treat.”
***
The seventeen-year-old student slides the door open and glances around. The house is empty, of course; Lightning has the evening shift on Wednesdays. She’s thrown some more gil into the food jar, though. Serah adds grocery shopping to her to-do list for tomorrow - or actually, maybe tonight, since she needs to visit the public library anyway. And if she leaves early, she can say hello to her friends on the way.
Of course, she has to stay there until at least ten if she wants to actually get anything done, which means she has to make sure that there’s something ready to eat in the fridge for whenever Lightning gets home. She ordered out last week, and they can’t afford it again. It’s summer - she can get away with cold soup and a sandwich.