A prototype Archadian fighter as she is, the Strahl had it in her to take them high, higher than most ships will fly, yet never high enough to touch the stars. Similar to a black sky separating earth and stars, Fran always wisely kept her distance to Balthier, insisting there be space between them. Now that earth and stars have met, it should feel different than what they have shared before, and yet, it does not. There is a comfort to his smell, to his touch, a familiarity that Fran did not expect to find.
“Fran, you have grown too thin”, Balthier mumbles against her neck, a hand gently covering the ribs on her back.
“I am the same Fran,” Fran says, reconfirming her grip around his neck.
“Not quite,” he says, a tensity to his words she understands all too well. She breathes in the scent of his skin, the mix of sweat and warmth tickling her nostrils in a most comfortable way. Gently she releases him, and for moments they do nothing but stare at each other, Balthier's eyes travelling over Fran's face as if searching for something. Fran stays still, completely undecided concerning her next move - but there are no next moves, all there is to find is the steady beating of his pulse, thumping gently in her ears.
Slowly Balthier lifts a hand to push strands of hair away from her face, smiling as if he has finally found what he was looking for. Fran feels warm then, her skin content against his shirt. She exhales softly as her eyes close, then halfway open.
"I'm hungry."
Balthier snorts a laugh, the sweetest thing Fran has heard in a very long time; she can't help sneering happily. "Come on then," he says, releasing her to grab her hand, heading for the opening of the tent.
"No," Fran says, holding him back.
The look he shoots her sets her ears on fire, her limbs gone heavy, her palm sweaty against his. She needs not word her plea. Balthier has seen faces as hers many times before, many years ago, when hunting for female company was a way for him to pass time - time now having passed, too much of it. Fran leads his hand to the small of her back, pressing her chest against his, his lips parting, his eyes heavy. She kisses his cheek gently at first, causing a shudder and a swallow. “Fran,” he says, coarse almost, as if he is saying her name for the very first time - she kisses him on the lips then, very briefly, giving him the chance to retire - but the next moment his tongue is in her mouth, Fran again reminded how Balthier would never deny her anything.
They kiss until the sun is setting and their bones have grown tired. "Let me stay," Fran says, straws of hay poking into their skin a few short moments later. Staring at Balthier in the dark, Fran takes his hand to caress it, gently suckling on his knuckles, his fingers. When she slips his hand down into her garb, her breathing is already far beyond unsteady.
The tent is completely dark when Balthier settles with his head against Fran’s shoulder. His finger moves lazily to caress the soft skin above her breast. “I do wonder”, he murmurs, “how it is possible to be so completely content and so completely miserable at the same time.”
The hand resting on his back moves to embrace him, to comfort.
They lay like this for some time, fingertips travelling over skin while listening to the Chocobo eating its Greens. “Do you think he enjoyed the show?” Balthier snickers. When the bird tucks his beak under his wing to sleep, it is without Balthier’s knees nudging him in the back.
)
Also haha this is me when I have time off, I forget that there's a world going on outside where people have to work and sleep 
