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Entry tags:
( america mew mew ) comfort
Title: comfort
Fandom: Tokyo Mew Mew
Universe: America Mew Mew
Relationships: Chive / Celsia Archer
Summary: Celsia reflects upon her relationship with Chive as they study for an upcoming exam– and wonders just who changed first, him or her.
Notes: Written as a quick present for myself, given the publication of TMM AU Lait! These two were my least developed ship, both in actual AMM and in my old notes. Sorrel/Panforte had a clear arc, as did Primrose/Briar, but I wanted to give some space to Chive and Celsia and how their relationship in Reunion came to be. Turns out, I love this dynamic so, so much more than I gave myself credit for.
Chive brought her coffee this morning. Celsia hadn't expected the gesture; honestly, she hadn't expected much of anything from him. Today was supposed to be a study session before finals.
She would clear space in her common room and invite him over; he would keep her company and ensure she stayed on track. They kept each other accountable. Mostly because they weren't really friends– they weren't on good enough terms to goof off, let alone give each other much slack.
Yet the strong, wonderful aroma of freshly-roasted coffee beans pulled her from her studies and giant sketchbook. She shot him a warm, grateful smile as she wrapped her hands around the sturdy mug.
"Well? Aren't you going to join me?"
Chive blinked back genuine surprise as he slid into the seat across from her. "Really? You weren't joking about us studying?"
"Nope. Also, you surprised me with coffee." Celsia took that first sip of her drink and oh, the sweet taste of milk hit her tongue first. A flat white, layering milk and espresso with pitch-perfect notes. She hummed, "My favorite kind, in fact."
Chive laughed. "When was the last time you ate something?"
Celsia didn't even try to respond to him. She gulped down more coffee, ignoring his stupid, perfect laugh as he slid over some baked goods. Blueberry scones, her favorite. Her usual go-to, ever since middle school.
"Thought so," he crowed, resting a hand under her chin as he ignored her stunned look.
For someone so irritating, he sure knew her better than she ever dreamed he would.
Five years ago, Chive had arrived on her planet as an advance scout. He mapped out her hometown's natural resources and blended into the crowd as he tried to discern the magical and military forces that would halt a potential invasion. From what Celsia understood, he hadn't volunteered for the gig. He also, unfortunately for everyone involved, had been far too good at his work.
Then again, his English had been terrible, with an unwillingness to learn, let alone master correct tense. He cared little for this Earth, let alone for the people on it.
(If she closed her eyes and thought upon their first meeting, she still shivered. That Chive, with cruel, calculating eyes and overconfident demeanor, was impossible to forget. He wielded parasites with reckless abandon, rewiring human brain and thought as if all of humanity were lifeless puppets. At 13, it had disgusted her. At 19, that behavior terrified her.)
Celsia wasn't sure when Chive's opinions on Earth, let alone the Mews, had changed.
He had chosen, of his own free will, to return to New York and study alongside her. He chose to major in International Relations and Political Science, just as he chose to undergo naturalization and root himself in American life.
Yet every time she asked why, she never got a straight answer out of him.
"If you really want to know, Ms. Archer, you could just take me on a date," he had teased, with a wink and cocky smirk, right before changing the subject.
Celsia hadn't wanted to humor him, let alone his outdated ways of thinking. Chive hadn't given women much choice, let alone autonomy, in those days. He used to force himself upon people (like Mimi) and deem that behavior appropriate. As a young girl, Celsia couldn't have named that slimy, disgusting feeling. At her current age, she understood that claustrophobia and wariness.
She also understood that Chive had mellowed out. The warm, perfect coffee in her hands was enough proof.
He had only looked at her once, at her bedhead and raggedy sweatshirt, to know how long she had been curled up with her books. He had sought coffee from their favorite cafe, and he had brought it for her with zero expectation. He hadn't demanded praise or payment, either.
Instead, Chive was looking at her with warmth and concern, like a parent watching over their small child.
Something had changed. Something deep in their souls had stirred and grown, and for the first time since they had met, Celsia wasn't sure who changed first. Her younger self would've never imagined them occupying the same space in peace.
Chive had sat across from her before, but always with a dumb, cocky demeanor and witty joke. He asked her out; she turned him down; he sobered up, always realizing she wouldn't fall for his tricks.
Since they started college, though, the jokes vanished. He hadn't tried to flirt with her. She hadn't tried to shut him down. He– his presence was a comfort, like her old, worn-out sweatshirts and favorite cups of coffee.
Celsia almost didn't want to break their silence, but she had to ask, "Hey, Chive?"
He glanced up from his textbook, still holding his pen, "Hm?"
"Why did you come out here to study with me? You didn't have to."
He had plenty of friends, after all. Celsia had seen him all too often around with a full entourage. Every time, different people surrounded him, and every time, his eyes would twinkle like the stars and he would lean in as if sharing a private joke. He seemed content.
He didn't need someone like Celsia finally taking pity on him, let alone asking her to study with him. They didn't even have the same major. Let alone any of the same classes!
"Yeah, well..." Chive exhaled, his expression softening as he scooted closer. "It isn't often you want to be with me. How could I turn that down?"
She couldn't argue in the face of an unkind truth. Celsia bit back her tongue, acquiescing to her old behavior.
"You used to ask me out all the time," she confessed, feeling the strings around her heart tighten and her cheeks growing red, "And I know it's never serious. Trust me, I know, given how often you've teased it and how you used to see if it'll distract me, but I..."
"But?"
She drew in a breath, "I always want to be with you. It's all I think about sometimes, which is totally embarrassing because like, you used to say I was rude and I always got offended, except you were kind of right and–"
Chive leaned in, closing the distance between them and craning his head– "Cels? Can I kiss you?"
She gulped down a nod, right as Chive pressed his lips against hers. He tasted sweet, like scones and coffee, yet his touch was gentle. He shifted his body, wrapping his arms around her neck as he pulled her in. One kiss turned into two; two turned into four; and four turned into infinite, pent-up desperation.
Celsia reached up to wrap her arms around him, resting her elbows on his shoulders and leaning into that warm, sweet, comfortable kiss.
They pulled away only to breathe.
Chive's laugh was soft and subdued– a first, considering. "I had just about given up on you."
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling her ears burn in embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't feel this apologetic, given all of his past behavior, but she liked to think better of herself. That she should've picked up on his feelings. "I–I didn't know if you ever meant any of it seriously, and by the time we got like this... I didn't know if you ever did."
He stole another short, peckish kiss, his teeth tugging on her lips. "I always meant it."
"Even when you were trying to steal the Mew Aqua?"
Chive scrunched up his nose, making Celsia laugh as he grimaced, "Okay, except that time."
"You still healed my left wrist right up," she added as an absent afterthought, tugging a little on his hair. "You didn't have to do that either."
"I also didn't want to attack you– and I'm pretty sure it was your right wrist."
Celsia blinked, "I'm pretty sure it was my left."
"Okay, but you're right-handed. Your dominant arm shielded you from the blunt of that explosion." Chive sighed, resting his forehead on hers as he reached to hold her wrists. "It... it's not exactly my favorite memory of ours, Cel. I wasn't a great person back then."
"It's one of mine, though." Celsia understood why Chive wouldn't like dwelling on such an old story, but she had to say, "You stopped and healed me. We weren't on the same side back then, and you could've been captured by any of my teammates. You didn't have to help. That's... that's when I started liking you."
Chive didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. The silence seemed to stretch out as he tightened his grip on her.
"Since... back then?" He almost sounded pained. "You've liked me that long?"
"You also asked me out all the time back then! Plus you kept saying I was rude!"
"I called you a lady! My English wasn't that bad!"
"Point still stands," Celsia said, flicking his nose.
Chive stuck his tongue out at her. "You still could've said something once I came back! Saved me from all of this stupid pining!"
Celsia broke their grip, sliding into his lap and pinching his cheeks, stretching them out with her hands– "I didn't know! Pining Chive sounded near-identical to stupid, cocky Chive! Forgive me for thinking that none of your flirting could be serious!"
Even as Chive groaned and grimaced, the edges of his eyes crinkled with true joy, and his body relaxed. He sat still, letting her fiddle, and she let go, only to wrap her arms around his neck again.
"I should've been more subtle," he admitted, with a soft, glowing smile that she had never seen before. "But then again, I wouldn't have met you if I were good at following the rules. I still would've been on the home planet, letting some other sucker scout the country."
"Good thing you're terrible at listening," Celsia teased, her own voice softening at the sight. "I wouldn't have wanted to meet anyone else. Obvious or not, I like you just the way you are. If we're to - if we're gonna give us a shot, then I like every part of you. Good, bad, terrible listener."
Chive snorted, as if she had given him a terrible yet funny insult, and for the first time since they had met, Celsia felt as if she had arrived home.
Fandom: Tokyo Mew Mew
Universe: America Mew Mew
Relationships: Chive / Celsia Archer
Summary: Celsia reflects upon her relationship with Chive as they study for an upcoming exam– and wonders just who changed first, him or her.
Notes: Written as a quick present for myself, given the publication of TMM AU Lait! These two were my least developed ship, both in actual AMM and in my old notes. Sorrel/Panforte had a clear arc, as did Primrose/Briar, but I wanted to give some space to Chive and Celsia and how their relationship in Reunion came to be. Turns out, I love this dynamic so, so much more than I gave myself credit for.
Chive brought her coffee this morning. Celsia hadn't expected the gesture; honestly, she hadn't expected much of anything from him. Today was supposed to be a study session before finals.
She would clear space in her common room and invite him over; he would keep her company and ensure she stayed on track. They kept each other accountable. Mostly because they weren't really friends– they weren't on good enough terms to goof off, let alone give each other much slack.
Yet the strong, wonderful aroma of freshly-roasted coffee beans pulled her from her studies and giant sketchbook. She shot him a warm, grateful smile as she wrapped her hands around the sturdy mug.
"Well? Aren't you going to join me?"
Chive blinked back genuine surprise as he slid into the seat across from her. "Really? You weren't joking about us studying?"
"Nope. Also, you surprised me with coffee." Celsia took that first sip of her drink and oh, the sweet taste of milk hit her tongue first. A flat white, layering milk and espresso with pitch-perfect notes. She hummed, "My favorite kind, in fact."
Chive laughed. "When was the last time you ate something?"
Celsia didn't even try to respond to him. She gulped down more coffee, ignoring his stupid, perfect laugh as he slid over some baked goods. Blueberry scones, her favorite. Her usual go-to, ever since middle school.
"Thought so," he crowed, resting a hand under her chin as he ignored her stunned look.
For someone so irritating, he sure knew her better than she ever dreamed he would.
Five years ago, Chive had arrived on her planet as an advance scout. He mapped out her hometown's natural resources and blended into the crowd as he tried to discern the magical and military forces that would halt a potential invasion. From what Celsia understood, he hadn't volunteered for the gig. He also, unfortunately for everyone involved, had been far too good at his work.
Then again, his English had been terrible, with an unwillingness to learn, let alone master correct tense. He cared little for this Earth, let alone for the people on it.
(If she closed her eyes and thought upon their first meeting, she still shivered. That Chive, with cruel, calculating eyes and overconfident demeanor, was impossible to forget. He wielded parasites with reckless abandon, rewiring human brain and thought as if all of humanity were lifeless puppets. At 13, it had disgusted her. At 19, that behavior terrified her.)
Celsia wasn't sure when Chive's opinions on Earth, let alone the Mews, had changed.
He had chosen, of his own free will, to return to New York and study alongside her. He chose to major in International Relations and Political Science, just as he chose to undergo naturalization and root himself in American life.
Yet every time she asked why, she never got a straight answer out of him.
"If you really want to know, Ms. Archer, you could just take me on a date," he had teased, with a wink and cocky smirk, right before changing the subject.
Celsia hadn't wanted to humor him, let alone his outdated ways of thinking. Chive hadn't given women much choice, let alone autonomy, in those days. He used to force himself upon people (like Mimi) and deem that behavior appropriate. As a young girl, Celsia couldn't have named that slimy, disgusting feeling. At her current age, she understood that claustrophobia and wariness.
She also understood that Chive had mellowed out. The warm, perfect coffee in her hands was enough proof.
He had only looked at her once, at her bedhead and raggedy sweatshirt, to know how long she had been curled up with her books. He had sought coffee from their favorite cafe, and he had brought it for her with zero expectation. He hadn't demanded praise or payment, either.
Instead, Chive was looking at her with warmth and concern, like a parent watching over their small child.
Something had changed. Something deep in their souls had stirred and grown, and for the first time since they had met, Celsia wasn't sure who changed first. Her younger self would've never imagined them occupying the same space in peace.
Chive had sat across from her before, but always with a dumb, cocky demeanor and witty joke. He asked her out; she turned him down; he sobered up, always realizing she wouldn't fall for his tricks.
Since they started college, though, the jokes vanished. He hadn't tried to flirt with her. She hadn't tried to shut him down. He– his presence was a comfort, like her old, worn-out sweatshirts and favorite cups of coffee.
Celsia almost didn't want to break their silence, but she had to ask, "Hey, Chive?"
He glanced up from his textbook, still holding his pen, "Hm?"
"Why did you come out here to study with me? You didn't have to."
He had plenty of friends, after all. Celsia had seen him all too often around with a full entourage. Every time, different people surrounded him, and every time, his eyes would twinkle like the stars and he would lean in as if sharing a private joke. He seemed content.
He didn't need someone like Celsia finally taking pity on him, let alone asking her to study with him. They didn't even have the same major. Let alone any of the same classes!
"Yeah, well..." Chive exhaled, his expression softening as he scooted closer. "It isn't often you want to be with me. How could I turn that down?"
She couldn't argue in the face of an unkind truth. Celsia bit back her tongue, acquiescing to her old behavior.
"You used to ask me out all the time," she confessed, feeling the strings around her heart tighten and her cheeks growing red, "And I know it's never serious. Trust me, I know, given how often you've teased it and how you used to see if it'll distract me, but I..."
"But?"
She drew in a breath, "I always want to be with you. It's all I think about sometimes, which is totally embarrassing because like, you used to say I was rude and I always got offended, except you were kind of right and–"
Chive leaned in, closing the distance between them and craning his head– "Cels? Can I kiss you?"
She gulped down a nod, right as Chive pressed his lips against hers. He tasted sweet, like scones and coffee, yet his touch was gentle. He shifted his body, wrapping his arms around her neck as he pulled her in. One kiss turned into two; two turned into four; and four turned into infinite, pent-up desperation.
Celsia reached up to wrap her arms around him, resting her elbows on his shoulders and leaning into that warm, sweet, comfortable kiss.
They pulled away only to breathe.
Chive's laugh was soft and subdued– a first, considering. "I had just about given up on you."
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling her ears burn in embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't feel this apologetic, given all of his past behavior, but she liked to think better of herself. That she should've picked up on his feelings. "I–I didn't know if you ever meant any of it seriously, and by the time we got like this... I didn't know if you ever did."
He stole another short, peckish kiss, his teeth tugging on her lips. "I always meant it."
"Even when you were trying to steal the Mew Aqua?"
Chive scrunched up his nose, making Celsia laugh as he grimaced, "Okay, except that time."
"You still healed my left wrist right up," she added as an absent afterthought, tugging a little on his hair. "You didn't have to do that either."
"I also didn't want to attack you– and I'm pretty sure it was your right wrist."
Celsia blinked, "I'm pretty sure it was my left."
"Okay, but you're right-handed. Your dominant arm shielded you from the blunt of that explosion." Chive sighed, resting his forehead on hers as he reached to hold her wrists. "It... it's not exactly my favorite memory of ours, Cel. I wasn't a great person back then."
"It's one of mine, though." Celsia understood why Chive wouldn't like dwelling on such an old story, but she had to say, "You stopped and healed me. We weren't on the same side back then, and you could've been captured by any of my teammates. You didn't have to help. That's... that's when I started liking you."
Chive didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. The silence seemed to stretch out as he tightened his grip on her.
"Since... back then?" He almost sounded pained. "You've liked me that long?"
"You also asked me out all the time back then! Plus you kept saying I was rude!"
"I called you a lady! My English wasn't that bad!"
"Point still stands," Celsia said, flicking his nose.
Chive stuck his tongue out at her. "You still could've said something once I came back! Saved me from all of this stupid pining!"
Celsia broke their grip, sliding into his lap and pinching his cheeks, stretching them out with her hands– "I didn't know! Pining Chive sounded near-identical to stupid, cocky Chive! Forgive me for thinking that none of your flirting could be serious!"
Even as Chive groaned and grimaced, the edges of his eyes crinkled with true joy, and his body relaxed. He sat still, letting her fiddle, and she let go, only to wrap her arms around his neck again.
"I should've been more subtle," he admitted, with a soft, glowing smile that she had never seen before. "But then again, I wouldn't have met you if I were good at following the rules. I still would've been on the home planet, letting some other sucker scout the country."
"Good thing you're terrible at listening," Celsia teased, her own voice softening at the sight. "I wouldn't have wanted to meet anyone else. Obvious or not, I like you just the way you are. If we're to - if we're gonna give us a shot, then I like every part of you. Good, bad, terrible listener."
Chive snorted, as if she had given him a terrible yet funny insult, and for the first time since they had met, Celsia felt as if she had arrived home.