Train comes home one night and find a very pleasant surprise waiting for him.
This is my very first Black Cat fic. I absolutely love the idea of Train and Eve together. This isn't set during any particular time. It's somewhat AU, but I hope you like it!
Train pushed open the door. The entrance was dark, but there were lights flickering somewhere. He sighed and kicked his shoes into the corner. More than likely Rins had brought Jenos home for a 'romantic evening'. Usually they went out for dinner, but both the thief and her Number boyfriend were broke at the moment. He sighed again. Things had gotten a whole lot more complicated when Rinslet had joined them. He preferred just having the three of them — himself, Sven, and the princess.
"Anyone home?" He called out through the gloom. He figured that if Jenos was there, it would be fun to interrupt their meal, maybe hit on Rins a bit, just to piss Number VII off.
"Train?" It wasn't his former comrade's deep voice that beckoned to him, but a higher, sweeter one, one that he automatically associated with violet eyes and a quiet nature.
"Princess?" He responded in kind, straining his eyes through the darkness to try and find where the girl's voice came from. "Why are the lights out?" He turned toward the kitchen and stopped abruptly.
Blonde hair cascaded in gentle curls, surrounding the girl with a golden glow. Her eyes seemed to radiate in her face, their pinkish-purple light as bright as a 10,000 watt bulb. Train found himself speechless as he looked at her. For once, she wasn't wearing black, but a flowing white halter dress that reached just below her knees. The curls were different, too, since her hair was normally pin-straight. The dress clung to all the right places on her body, and the man found himself getting slightly warm as he noticed that she wasn't exactly a little girl anymore.
"Wow . . . Princess . . ." He was glad for the darkness that surrounded him, since it hid the blush that he felt creeping up his neck. "Who'd you get all fixed up for? Is Leon around?" He tried to see past her into the kitchen, looking for any telltale signs that the wind-conjuring, blue-haired boy was there for dinner.
She rolled her eyes. "Leon? Why would I dress up for him?"
Train felt an inexplicable wave of relief roll over him. So it wasn't for the surfboard brat. But then . . .
"Is it for Sven?"
Eve blanched. "Sven is like my father, Train."
"Then why'd you go all fancy?" Confusion seeped through him. If it wasn't for Leon, and it wasn't for Sven . . . "Did you get yourself a boyfriend?" Inwardly, he resolved to beat the crap out of anyone who had the audacity to date his princess. She was young, damnit!
Then again — he cast his eyes over her again — maybe not so young.
She shook her head and held out a hand. "I made you dinner."
Train wasn't often speechless, but as he took her hand and was led through the kitchen into the dining room, he found that he was, once again, lost for words.
She'd set the table the same way Rins did when Jenos was around; candlesticks, table cloth, placemats, napkins, and all. The only difference was that Eve had only set out a knife, fork and spoon, instead of the sixteen pieces of cutlery that Rins usually surrounded the plates with.
"Princess?" She turned to him, dropping his hand, tilting her head slightly to the side. He was somewhat shocked to realized that he missed her hand in his.
"Where's the rest of the silverware?"
A small smile graced the corners of her mouth. His stomach swooped.
"I thought it would be easier for you if I only used the essentials." His mouth dropped open. This was not the princess he'd come to expect. Where had she gotten a spine? "Now sit."
Train stuck his tongue out at her back as she marched purposefully into the kitchen. She stopped and turned, her eyes hard but glinting with amusement.
"Stick it out, and you'll have to share it."
He winked at her. "I'll remember that."
She rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen.
Train leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. All outward appearances showed that he was asleep, but he'd never felt more awake in his life. He couldn't believe what his heart, brain, and body were doing to him. The swoops of his stomach, the blushes, the pounding heart, the rampant jealousy . . .
She made me dinner. His mind was still reeling at that thought. She dressed up for me, and she made me dinner.
Why do I feel this way? Snap out of it, Train. She's the princess. The same princess who you've been living with for years now.
Sven is going to kill me.
"Train?" He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. His heart gave a particularly painful lurch and his stomach completely disappeared. Her golden hair floated around her, and in her arms she carried a platter full of the most delicious-looking chicken risotto he'd ever laid eyes on. The smell wafted over to him, and his stomach came back with a jolt that sent drool flooding to his mouth. For a while, he forgot about his frightening attraction to the princess, and instead focussed only on shovelling as much of the rice dish as he could into his mouth. It was only when he's finished his third helping that he noticed that Eve's plate was conspicuously clean.
"Princess . . . aren't you going to eat?"
She shrugged and avoided his eyes, fiddling with her napkin.
"I'm not hungry."
He watched her for a moment.
"Are you alright?"
She looked at him suddenly, and her eyes were bright.
"Are you finished? I have something else for you." And she jumped up and practically ran back into the kitchen.
How long has it been like this? A long time, I think. that's why I started to call her princess in the first place. That's why I wanted her to come with us. Not because she's useful — not ONLY 'cause she's useful, I mean — but because I . . . I . . .
Saya, this is what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to find someone? A new best friend?
But . . . If you were still here . . . I would choose her.
She came back into the room, and in her arms was the tallest, most delectable cake he had ever seen. The icing glistened and sparkled in the candlelight and she brought it over to him.
She seemed to be having difficultly finding a place to set it down on the already-dish-laden table. She frowned and sighed, her hair glowing and starting its transformation.
"Don't." Train got to his feet and took the cake from her, putting it on his now-empty chair. Then, instead of turning his attention to the masterpiece of batter and sugary icing, he took a step closer to Eve. His heart pounded so hard that he thought his blood vessels were about to burst on him.
"Train . . ."
He put a finger over her mouth. "For once, princess," he whispered, brushing her ear gently with his lips. "Just pretend you have nothing to say."
Her eyes were huge. He felt like melting. Her sharp intake of breath was halted, quite suddenly, by his lips.
She tasted sweet, as though she was made of sugar. Train groaned, pulling her closer, wrapping his arms around her and twining his fingers in her hair. Her lips were moving gently against his, and his stomach and brain seemed to have taken a permanent vacation.
When they finally pulled apart, he cupped her cheek in his hand.
"What was that for?" She asked, but her voice was gentle.
"You said I'd have to share, didn't you, princess?"