Bartz and Lightning sit down for their snack date, which—of course—isn't actually a date. Or is it?

✨

"Y'know, I heard that Materia gets the best fruit from Lix—my hometown."

Bartz watched, cheekily and intently, as Lightning's eyes made caterpillar movements from the fruit tray, to the napkins, all the way up to Bartz's megawatt stare. Some random indoor breeze pushed a curl into the nook of her collarbone. Her black tank top hugged and curved around her like it was second pair of armor.

Slowly, lazily, she twisted a cracker between her fingers, held it up to the skin of her lips. "Oh yeah?" she breathed, her voice the ever icy gust. "Where'd you hear that?"

At her response, Bartz tingled from head to toe in electricity. Smile growing, he plucked a fat grape from the tray and shoved it just high enough to kiss the lights. "Heard it through the grapevine," he said, casual yet chirpy. Then he popped the grape fast into his mouth, noticed how Lightning's brows inched lower, and nearly spit the fruit back out as he doubled over in laughter.

"Cute," Light mused. Her smile was subtle, tugging bigger as the joke poked pockets in the air. "Real cute, Klauser."

Bartz had to chew and swallow at record speed, so he could let his laughter waterfall all over the table. "You fell right into that one!"

He didn't know why he found his own desperate attempt at a joke so funny. Or maybe, it wasn't the joke that was funny at all, but how Light's face had contorted in such thoughtful rhythms. Maybe it was her reflexive smile once she understood.

Oh.

It was then when Bartz realized he wasn't laughing because anything was funny. No, that wasn't it at all.

Behind his laugh-born tears, Bartz peered over at Lightning trying to bite down her curling mouth. Her head shook in tiny, amused bits, and suddenly the room—no, the whole damn tower—felt like a breezy flower field in the thick of spring.

I'm just really happy, huh? Yeah, that's it.

He and Lightning, well . . . They never really did stuff like this. Never did they sit so close at the table. Never did their hands graze in the same fruit tray. Never did the world seem so bright when she smiled at something he said.

No, they never, ever did this. And yet, it was the most amazing Bartz felt all day. All the dirt covering his laughs, all the nervous aches burning his ribs . . . Nope. Gone with the soul-saving winds.

"You pull those jokes straight out of your ass or something?" Lightning quipped, sliding the cracker between her teeth. "Or were you waiting to throw that one on me since lunch?"

Bartz's giddy breathes melted into something more chocolate, more smooth. He gave a little shrug. "You know I'm just naturally that clever on demand." In a slick flash, his position shifted to a pose between slacked and expectant—a hand on his cheek and an elbow jabbing the table edge. "What about you? You were joking with me earlier. Tell me another one."

"No thanks."

"Aw, come on."

"I don't give out jokes for free like that," Light spat, mirth sprinkling diamonds. "I tell jokes whenever the hell I feel like it."

Bartz shrugged again. "Fair enough."

Only a few seconds flittered by. Lightning bit into a grape. Bartz went for a miniature cheese.

"Do you feel like telling one now?"

Now Lightning just lost control of whatever knot she was holding. Her head slipped and tipped forward. Silent laughs bounced her core. Damn, the whole scene just made Bartz feel weightless—like he could dance along ocean ripples—like he could never, ever fall. He was smiling so much it hurt. Ow. A lot. But it was a new and fresh kind of pain. One that he wouldn't mind feeling more often.

"Alright." Light waved a dismissive hand. "Time to change the subject."

"Fine. Sure."

Bartz let another chuckle drizzle through the thoughtful silence as subjects cartwheeled and played in his head. There was one topic, however, that was so blindly obvious that not even his lighter mind could push it away. And he knew he probably shouldn't—dammit, you're gonna regret it—but maybe if he played his cards brightly, he wouldn't bring a steel mallet down on the mood.

So he puffed a breath. Pitched up his voice to keep it sunny. "So, you've probably already been asked this a lot . . . And, well, I don't wanna be like everyone else you've talked to, but—"

"No. I haven't picked anyone for the dumbass challenge yet."

Ouch. The words sliced just like her sword—hot, seething in collision.

". . . O-kay." Bartz took a moment to cringe. "I was actually gonna ask if you were feeling any better about it, but I think you pretty much answered that too."

"It's just ridiculous." Voice fading to softened embers, Lightning leaned up against the table. She leaned on it like she needed it for life. "Materia's treating us like fucking children. Doesn't give a shit how we feel."

"And how do you feel exactly?" Bartz's fist jumped inches from Light's face—a quick, giddy attempt at mimicking a microphone.

But Lightning just stared rusted metal at him, pushed his hand away with two nonchalant fingers. "Forced. Violated," she answered. "How many synonyms do you want?"

Bartz threw a look to the ceiling. "Alright, that's valid. But, c'mon, Light. I mean, how you really, really feel. What makes the whole kissing thing so bad in particular? Is it scary?"

Lightning broke into a chuckle, and though it was soft, it leaked of slate. "Well, it's not like how you're scared of heights, but . . ." At this, Bartz bristled, but kept listening to her nonetheless. "It's still nerve-racking. Once a kiss happens, it can go one of two ways: It's either really good or really bad. And both ways make things complicated as hell, in my opinion."

Bartz found himself absently, uselessly nodding. Maybe he said something like a "yeah". Maybe he didn't say anything at all. All he knew was that his fingers were sliding over the rough graham of the crackers, putting one square over the other, as his skin crawled in familiar haze.

'Guess you wouldn't really get it, but . . . It's just kinda hard to look her in the eyes right now.'

No. Stop that already.

Suddenly the tower got a little quieter. Bartz began looking at the world through a glass that was rose-tinted, berry scent infused. And at the center of it all was Lightning. Many things about her—no, everything about her—looked a little weird right now. Her silk rivers of hair were prettier than sky, her plush cheeks moved somewhat gracefully to chew another grape, and her lips—

Ah. Bartz tightened, felt something spark between his legs. I wonder . . . Would it really be so complicated?

Against his better judgment, he let himself glaze lazy eyes across her mouth. He took detailed notes about every little dip and bunch it made. Fruit juices nestled in the corner that connected her lips to skin, and Bartz's tongue went desert dry—as if it begged to jump and lick the juices away for her. Crap. Bartz felt his face scatter in blush. Why did her lips have to look like finely polished strawberry candy? So sweet and glassy and everything a guy needed to lose his marbles . . .

Was she always this pretty? Or did this team bonding challenge have crazy-ass side effects? It seemed to make born thoughts that never would've surfaced any other day.

Maybe . . . Maybe we'd be okay if we kissed. I mean, we're getting along okay overall. It doesn't have to be weird. I wouldn't let it get that way. I'd fight like hell to make sure of that. I'd . . . I'd do anything to . . .

Bartz's thought ramble got cut clean in two once Lightning reached over for the tray again. He could've sworn he bloomed in a fresh layer of pink, and thank the stars she seemed oblivious. But instead of snatching a grape or cheese, she went for a cracker. A sound like tumbling dominos woke Bartz up even more.

He gasped. "Aw, what the blazes, Light? I was making a cracker tower!"

"You snooze, you lose," she said simply. And pop went the cracker in her mouth.

Bartz couldn't help but throw his head back. Laughter grabbed him with firm fingers yet again. "You're terrible, y'know that? Just brutal."

"I know."

"Ahahaha."

Yeah. Bartz grinned. We'd be okay.