A word of explanation before I begin: This fic, as well as the twenty-nine others I'll be posting here eventually, was written for the 30kisses community at Livejournal. (You can find a link to the community in my personal journal, which is where the "website" link in my profile leads to.) Basically, anyone who wants to try it signs up for a pairing, and then writes thirty fics about that pairing, each of which are about a different preset theme. The writer can interpret each theme any way she chooses, and write them in any order; the only requirement is that the fic has to center around the couple she signed up for, and has to include a kiss of some kind.
This fic is set at the beginning of Episode 12 (or right after Episode 11, if you prefer), when Ahiru is helping Fakir back to his room.
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu isn't mine. Woe.
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Theme 24: Good Night
He's lighter than she thought he'd be, though that might just be because he's trying not to lean on her. Weird. She'd never thought about using Fakir and silly in the same thought, but that's what he's being right now: Silly.
Moron, she imagines growling at him with his own I'm-better-than-you snarl, and nearly giggles at the thought. Nearly. Still, it's good to have something to take her mind off of... things.
"What's... so funny?"
He's looking at her, but his eyes aren't focusing. That's not good. "Just something I thought of. Hey, look, we're nearly back at the dorm! I bet you'll be glad to get some sleep, right, Fakir? Fakir!"
He blinks. Slowly. Shakes his head once, twice, three times. He's still trying not to lean on her, but she can feel him wobbling. "I'm... fine. How far...?"
"Not far. Come on, we're nearly there."
He hmms, and she isn't quite sure whether to be annoyed or relieved that he can still manage to make it sound as if he's also saying, "Of course I knew that. What do you think I am, an idiot like you?" Relieved, she decides. Fakir wouldn't be Fakir if he wasn't being at least a little bit of a jerk.
He's wobbling even more, but they're at the dorm now, and that means only two flights of stairs to go before she can set him down and he won't have to pretend that he can walk anymore. Getting up the stairs is tricky, since he's stumbling even more than he already was, but they soon fall into a rhythm, which somehow turns into a waltz in her head: ONE-two-three ONE-two-three STEP-step-step STEP.
And now they're STEP-step-stepping down the hallway and somehow getting through his door without either of them getting banged up too badly. After that, it's only a few feet to his bed, where he manages one last glare before his eyes flutter shut and he deflates like a battered, sooty balloon.
His wounds actually aren't that bad, so it doesn't take long to bind them. Hopefully she's doing it right. She definitely knows how to tuck someone in, though, so that's next, even if (she blushes a bit) she can't change him into his nightshirt, so he'll just have to sleep in his clothes. Good thing he doesn't seem to care about what he's wearing at the moment.
It takes a little effort to get the sheets and blankets out from under where he flopped down on the bed and rearrange everything so that he's lying under the blankets instead of on top of them, but he's soon tucked in nice and snug. And now there's only one thing left to do.
He'd probably glare at her or call her names or both if he knew that she was doing this, but since he'll do that anyway, she might as well not go out of her way to avoid it. Besides, Fakir can be mean, and he can be silly about things like admitting when he needs help, but he also can be nice when he thinks no one's watching, and he wants to protect Mytho just as much as she does, which is enough to make her want him to feel better. And good night kisses make everyone feel better.
"Good night, Fakir!" she whispers, and, half-watching him to make sure he doesn't wake up, quickly pecks him on the cheek. And maybe it's just her imagination, but she thinks he almost smiles. Just a little bit.