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The sound of Leofard’s body hitting the mismatched walkway of the Parrock was a heavy, almost wet-sounding thud, and several cracks. Peaches heard someone scream, only to realize it was her when she ran out of breath. She was at his side in a second, unable to take her eyes off him even as he weakly bid her turn around to face Diabolos. Small, frantic hands fussed over his broken form, the meager clemencies she could cast doing not nearly enough.
It was unbelievably lucky that Radlia and her Talons had come by. Peaches couldn’t even find annoyance with the woman’s smug expression, too quickly turning away to look over Leofard. His arm was clearly broken and, with the sound he made upon hitting the ground, likely more than a few ribs. Battered, but alive; she thanked all the Twelve for it.
An agreement was struck between Redbills and Talons. Radlia would lend her new flying fortress to the cause… And Leofard would be put on bed-rest, much to his ire.
He voiced protests and spat venom, but settled finally with a barb. “You know what? I’ve had a bellyful of your mewlin’ in any case. Go on– fly off without me, and see how far you get with your thrice-damned ‘enterprise’.” The expression on his face was stormy. Angry.
Still, plans were set. Preparations made. In the final hour, Peaches went to check on him. He was still upset as he laid there, stiff-lipped and cross-armed.
“You know that it is for your safety, right?”
He didn’t look at her for a long moment. Silence hung in the air, but then–
“I know.” Leofard’s voice was soft as he turned to face her. “I know! This adventure’s all yours, Peaches. I’ll be cheerin’ for you from my sickbed like a good little pirate. Promise.”
She patted his arm briefly before heading for the door. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
“Oh, take your time. S’not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
The talking-to that Leofard got after his little stunt during the battle with Diabolos was what some might call legendary. The Redbills had never seen the captain so cowed; Cait Sith and Peaches both looked fit to wring his very neck. Still, it was obvious to all– obvious how the lecture was laden with care, with love. After awhile, Leofard’s chambers cleared out, save Peaches and the man himself.
“Throat sore yet?” a joke from Leofard.
“Of course not.”
“Color me surprised. That was quite the tongue-lashing.”
“Only you could make me exercise the muscle this much,” the statement was sighed, exasperated.
He laughed at her, a bit, amusement low in his throat and she rolled her eyes. Laughter, then chuckling, then comfortable silence. Comfortable, until–
“You looked fit to sob, you know?”
“When?” (She knew when.)
“When I went rollin’ before. You were at my side in an instant. Might’ve thought you flew, hit my head any harder.”
“You were hurt.”
“Perhaps–”
“ Assuredly. ”
“–Still. You came so quick. Didn’t spare me your attentions even when I bade you different.”
The non-commital noise Peaches made stood in contrast to how carefully she placed her hand over his cast, worried gently at the edge of his bandages. Her brow was stitched tight, but she couldn’t seem to unknit it.
“Careful. If you keep showerin’ me with such affection I might start to get the odd idea that you like me.”
He was teasing, she knew, but she felt a little brave right then.
“And what if I told you I do?”
“I might think you’re havin’ yourself a bit of a laugh at me.”
“And were I serious?”
“I might ask you to prove it to me.”
Pink met intense white stare.
“What sort of proof would you take, exactly?”
Leofard grabbed her hand with his uninjured one, pulling it– and her– up onto his bed until battle-worn fingers met his lips. She felt warmth in her cheeks, but did not pull away.
“What do you think I’d want,” he kissed her fingers once, twice, “Pipichu?”
If her cheeks were warm before, they were assuredly hot now. But she refused to back down from challenges. And though it foolish, though it lighthearted, it was a challenge nonetheless. She gathered her courage, brought face close to Leofard’s… And kissed him on the cheek.
“Now, Pipichu–”
“ UGH! Don’t say my name like that,” she turned away, bashfulness winning, “it’s embarrassing!”
“What, Pipichu? Pipichu. Pipichu~! Cute, sweet Pipichu. Kind, strong Pipichu. Pipi–”
Defiance flares, briefly, and before she can overthink it she presses her mouth to his. Only for a moment, but a moment enough to render Leofard temporarily speechless.
“You– you’ll get no more out of me, at least until you’ve slept!!” She looked away, attempting to save face. “It’s late. You won’t heal if you don’t replenish.”
“Pipichu.”
“Again with that! It’s embarrassi–”
Warm lips were at her cheek, and she sputtered as turned towards him.
Leofard. That Leofard, her Leofard. Her Leofard, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Good-night, Pipichu.”
“Yes, well,” she practically leapt from his bed, nigh ran for the door. She paused a moment before effectively shouting , “Good-night!!!” over her shoulder.
She heard him laughing the whole way down the hall.
Heavy arm circling about her brought Peaches from her reverie. Looking up, white eyes peered back, clearly still tired.
“You’re awake.”
“Was I moving too much? Apologies…”
Leofard shook his head, lazily.
“I just, all suddenly, felt my ears burning. You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”
Now hers were burning. Still, she nodded, heart braver for the years passed.
“I was thinking about love. The moment that made me realize. I could hardly guess, when we first met, that we would be here in the end.”
“Here, hm? In my bed, or d’you perchance mean married?”
“Both, in truth.”
“And yet, here you are. Matchin’ nightclothes and all.”
Peaches rubbed her thumb absent-mindedly against her ring before questing about for Leofard’s hand. Cold metal met her fingertips, and she smiled softly to herself as she felt the engravings of his half of the jewelry.
“I can’t say I’m upset about it.”