January Thaw
By: Manna


The Microfic/Drabble Meme
Requested by: Tab Cat (Livejournal), Udon-chan (deviantART)
Prompt: Eating shaved ice; Flirty!Serra
Pairing/Characters: Serra/Oswin
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7: Rekka no Ken


"You didn't have to do this, Sir Oswin!"

He tried not to blush, really, he did. He was a general of Ostia, for Elimine's sake! Generals of Ostia did not blush for any reason! (Least of all because he had a pair of lovely lavender-colored irises looking at him!)

"I know I'm the most beautiful girl around, but I'm still flattered that you would go out of your way for me!"

…He sighed. Some things never would change, would they? Well, he supposed it was for the best. After all, Serra had been through quite a bit in her sixteen years of life, and he was certain that if it weren't for her compliments towards herself, she'd most likely fall into a state of depression that even the light-hearted Matthew would be unable to pull her out of.

Serra depressed was a terrible sight, and something in him almost hurt to see her that way. The longer they traveled, the more likely she was to let herself fall into a semi-sorrowful state. No matter how hard they tried, they had many, many days when their goal seemed just as far off as it had when they'd traveled to Caelin to push Laus out. War really was taking its toll on her, he thought to himself as he watched her delicately eat the treat he'd brought for her. She did not belong here with these mercenaries and hard-hearted veterans of war. No, she belonged—


Her question and the sound of his name on her lips brought him back to reality and out of his thoughts. He grunted an acknowledgement, unsure of what else to do.

"Really, Sir Oswin, if you keep daydreaming about me like that, you'll make me blush!"

Oh, how close she was and she could not possibly know it! He had the good graces to blush slightly himself, and he shrugged his shoulders a little, glad he did not have his heavy armor on at the moment. "Serra, are you finished, yet?"

"No." She glanced down at the small bowl in her hands, and took a tiny spoonful of the flavored shaved ice, placing it in her mouth, letting the coolness wash over her tongue before she spoke again. "Say, you didn't get any for yourself!"

"I am fine." He didn't really need any. Honestly, watching her eat it was probably ten times better than eating any, himself. …Oh! Thinking that way…really, he was bound and determined to ruin his own life, wasn't he?

She blinked at him and smiled, tilting her head slightly to the side. "You should try some," she said to him, her voice softer than normal, as if she didn't want everyone else to hear what she was saying.

Damn it, but she was pretty! He shook his head, knowing it wasn't really an excuse, but she kept right on talking, anyway.

She scooped up a big spoonful of the pink ice and held it out to him; it was half-melted due to the amount of time she was taking eating it. "Open up," she ordered in her I'm-the-cleric-don't-give-me-any-sass tone.

He flushed, probably the most he'd ever managed to do in his entire thirty years of life. He started to protest, but a moment too late, he realized that opening his mouth to speak was his downfall. In the shaved ice went, and he nearly choked on it, but managed to swallow after he got over the initial shock of Serra feeding him, of the spoon that had been in her mouth currently residing in his, and the fact that there was pink juice dripping down his face.

She tilted the spoon up and pulled it out of his mouth, laughing lightly the entire time. It was almost worth it all to hear that, he thought to himself, feeling around in his pocket for a handkerchief to dab the juice away with.

The bowl found its way beside her on the bench, and she turned towards him so quickly that he could not keep her from taking hold of both of his arms with her small hands. "Let me get that," she whispered, and his heart hammered in his chest at her words, dreading what could possibly come.

Blast, he had never been happier that their army was scattered throughout the rather large village, and that most of the men had taken to the various taverns. If they were here, they would certainly—

He nearly fell over when he felt her tongue slide up his chin, coming to a stop just before his lips. He would swear to himself later that, if she hadn't been holding onto him, he very well could have fallen backward from the bench.

He noticed she was smiling, and even though it was nothing short of devious, it was still cute and so like her, but she didn't give him any more time to think on the matter before she was pressing her lips against his with a fierce intensity that he, in his delayed-reaction mode, could not hope to match in such a short period of time.

She pulled away, grinning with satisfaction, and licked her lips. Her tongue was almost stained red by the juices, he realized, and he reached over her lap to take the bowl of now mostly-melted shaved ice away from her. He stared into the bowl for a long moment, swirling the spoon around inside absently, and looked up at her.

He probably wouldn't have done anything, but she had her head tilted slightly to the side as she watched him, and her eyelashes were fluttering at him, and damn, he couldn't help himself. She was irresistible when she was like that.

He leaned in close to her and took the spoon, still wet with the melted ice, and drew it across her lips, staining them red. "Here," he said to her, his voice rough and his cheeks slightly flushed as his lips hovered a mere breath away from her own. "Let me get that."


Author Notes:

Oh ho ho. What? I couldn't resist it. It's one of the first things I thought of when I read the prompt, and you know I couldn't help but try and write it. Romance is usually something I'm not so great at…but I have to admit, I had a lot of fun writing this.

Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, as always, and I've love a review if you've got the time. Thanks for reading!