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[identity profile] electrumicity.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bifolding
Title: Sweet Dreams
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII
Pairing: Cid/Rygdea, pre-slash
Rating: PG
Notes: Wrote this on my phone while in bed with a fever, so uh, excuse the quality/any mistakes.



Two hours. Was that as much sleep as he was going to get that night? While four hours was his average per night, Cid was unsure on how well he was going to function on half of it. He sighed as he swung his legs over the bed, gaze resting on a nearby digital clock. Three in the morning. With a meeting tomorrow---with Nabaat and the Primarch of all people, he needed to be awake and alert. He couldn't afford a moment's weakness. If he could just manage another hour or two...

Tea was a help, but he had since run out. Luckily, the floor's kitchen was just down the hall, and no one was bound to in there at this time. The Brigadier General yawned as he fully climbed out of bed, moving to pull on a robe and a pair of slippers before leaving his quarters. As he approached his destination, his pace slowed; light was peeking in from underneath the door. Someone was in there.

While part of him was tempted to turn around and simply head back to his room, the scent of baked goods caught his attention. Curiosity peaked, he took the last few steps, opening the door and peering inside.

There, placing a tray of freshly baked cookies upon the counter, was none other than his subordinate. Rygdea looked up at him before cursing and tripping backwards, nearly losing his balance.

"C-Cid! What're ya...?!"

Really? Cid started laughing. Nightmare forgotten, he merely looked on as the brunet looked utterly embarrassed at being caught baking. And in an apron, at that.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Cid teased as he looked back and forth between the man and the cookies. "I never knew you had such a talent."

"Aw, shaddup. An' what are ya doin' here? Sleepwalkin'? Go get your beauty sleep," Rygdea muttered in return. "So I was makin' myself cookies. Big whoop. Better than the storebought crap."

Cid's laugh faded to a chuckle as he leaned against the wall. "I came to get tea, for your information, in order to try returning to sleep. What a sight to see, however."

"Can't sleep? Hmph..." Rygdea sighed before taking a cookie and tossing it at him. "Eat."

Cid could only raise an eyebrow, but he caught the still warm cookie. Chocolate chip. His favorite. He decided not to snip back at him, simply taking a bite of the cookie.

...absolutely delicious.

When he looked up at Rygdea, the man had already loaded the rest of the cookies onto the tray, and was pouring milk into two glasses. "Let's bring these to your room," he murmured, eventually picking up the full tray. "Have a slumber party in your dumb ass' quarters."

It was obvious that Rygdea was still sore about being both caught and teased about his hobby. "One might call that name-calling insubordination," Cid remarked, but nodded as he held the door open for him. "I am only allowing this because I am running on two hours of sleep."

Rygdea scoffed at him, making his way down the hallway. "Two hours? Damn. You're eating these cookies, then I'm tuckin' ya in and make sure ya get back to sleep."

Cid rolled his eyes.

Half an hour later, Rygdea was attempting to do just that.

"Into bed. Now," the Captain demanded as he pointed to the furniture in question. "An' I'm not leavin' until ya do. Two hours of sleep? Four hours of sleep a night? Bed."

"No."

"Stop bein' a child. Get into bed. When ya sleep, I'll go."

"No."

"Do it. Now."

The argument lasted ten minutes. Cid was in bed afterwards, if only to shut him up. "Can you leave now?"

"Not until ya fall asleep." Rygdea moved to sit down on the bed next to him, peering down curiously. "What's keeping ya up?"

Part of him wanted to lie, but right now, he couldn't think of an excuse quick enough. "...simply bad dreams," he muttered. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Rygdea frowned. "It is if it's keeping ya up all the damn time." Leaning in, he prodded at Cid's forehead. "Stop worryin' about everything. You're runnin' yourself ragged and if you're havin' nightmares about whatever it is..." The teasing glint was now gone from his eyes, replaced with some worry. "Relax, okay? Lemme help."

Cid stared up at him, nothing short of baffled. How had they suddenly come to this? An hour ago, he'd woken up from yet another Barthandelus-involved terror, and now, he was in bed with Rygdea fussing over him. "I...will be fine, however, I appreciate it," he finally said in return. He soon found himself yawning, and realized that he was already getting tired. "See? You can get going."

"When ya sleep," Rygdea persisted, not about to give up. "Now get with it. Don't make me start strokin' your hair and tellin' ya a friggen bedtime story."

"I'm not a child. Quit it."

"Nope."

When Rygdea was snickering, his hand jokingly running through Cid's hair, the General decided that complaining was pointless. When the motion became less joking and more legitimate, he decided not to say anything. Not when it actually was aiding him in drifting off.

And when he woke up the following morning with Rygdea slumped over the bed, half sprawled on top of him as he snored lightly, Cid chose not to complain about that either.

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