Author's Note :: Drabble. Fluff. Rating for language and Gippal's dirty thoughts.

Disclaimer :: I don't own it – if you know it and recognize it, kindly thank Square. I'm just borrowing these things for a bit.

The Concept of Breathing

She was lying underneath a hover when he found her; completely oblivious that those wonderfully sun-kissed legs of hers had drawn a crowd. Her skirt had hiked up a bit higher than normal – proving, first, that it really was possible for the garment to be any shorter and, second, that there wasn't a God.

Yevon be damned, there was only cruel, insensitive fate temping the leader of the Machine Faction to reach out with one of his gloved hands to wipe away the thin layer of perspiration that had settled there, mixing with streaks of motor oil from where she'd wiped her hands down her upper thighs earlier – before he'd gotten there.

Wouldn't that have made for a sight?

He'd only intended to drop by and extend his workers the invitation to pack up shop and leave early for the weekend. He'd not expected to find this – whatever this was he was witnessing – distracting any thoughts his mechanics might have entertained to oh, he wasn't sure, get some damn work accomplished.

When she bent her right leg, one blue and white boot coming to rest next to her left knee for added leverage while she torqued on whatever bearing underneath held her attention, Gippal frowned. Two of the mechanics had craned their necks – actually craned their fayth-forsaken necks – to see if the material of her undergarments matched that bikini top she always wore.

Gippal clenched his jaw.

Yep… definitely a matching set.

Then her weight shifted to her left and he was left to witness the way her back arched, so accidentally seductive that he lost his breath in a forceful 'whoosh'. He hated to admit it – watching Cid's girl repair that hover was downright erotic. Any more of this nonsense and he fully expected he'd find himself with a problem all the cold water in Djose wouldn't be able to fix.

It had all been too much before she'd made that small, primal sounding noise in the back of her throat. But when she did… when that sound reached his ears, he felt his jaw drop. Then he noticed the reactions from his mechanics, silent as monks but eager as juveniles who'd never seen a woman before to find out what, exactly, it was that she'd be so inclined to try next against that damned screw… nut… fuck…

His eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. And Gippal couldn't stop himself from wondering what else, aside from the inner intricacies of hover mechanics, might elicit such sweet murmurs from her lips.

"A-alright – okay!" his voice cut through the silent workshop like a Thundaga spell against a water flan. He'd sounded not at all like himself – a little panicked, a little urgent. The same two of his mechanics that he'd caught staring earlier had both jumped, quickly turning their attention to the floor, turning away from Rikku in their embarrassment.

Yeah, that was better.

Gippal cleared his throat, "Let's call it a day, gentlemen. Great week; I'll see you all on Monday."

He liked to think it was for fear of the wrath of his own jealousy that everyone obeyed, quickly shuffling out of the workshop. But before he could turn around to get a start on alleviating his so recently acquired… problem, her voice froze him in his footsteps.

"Hey Gippal? Was that you?"

He bit his lower lip, stifling a groan, "Sure was, kid."

Her voice was calm and sweet and just so fucking innocent that he'd had to clench his hands into fists at his sides to keep from pulling her out from under the hover to bend her over it onto the hood. The pleading, patient tone that followed made his stomach drop, "Umm, could you help me tighten this bolt? I can't quite get enough leverage."

He had to literally bite his tongue to keep from retorting, "I'll show you leverage, Cid's girl. Over the hood, against the door, on top of my workbench…"

"Please?"

"Sure," he hesitated; climbing under the hover so that he was lying directly next to her, their shoulders brushed and he closed his eye, thankful it was dim enough that she couldn't see his frustration. He quickly took the wrench from her hand, though she hadn't offered it to him, but nearly dropped it when his wrist brushed against her chest. He almost groaned but quickly caught himself, instead muttering a quick, "Sorry, kid."

If she had been bothered – or irritated – or peeved – or anything at all, she'd made no indication. Instead, she just shifted her weight, boots toeing against his calves as she watched him tighten up the bolt. In the limited space beneath the hover, there hadn't really been enough space for them both, so she'd shifted slightly further away to the side, awarding Gippal some much needed space.

"That the only one?"

"Mmmhmm!" she smiled.

And in the same instant, they made to slide out from under the hover, accidentally smacking their heads together in the process.

"Owie!"

"Shit, Rikku! I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, instinct taking over. Gippal grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her towards him. It had been a common response when they had been children – he'd hold on to her like that, up against his chest with his arms around her shoulders, whenever he'd underestimate his strength and end up accidentally hurting her. With his left hand, he rubbed his fingers gently over the place his chin had hit against the crown of her head, asking, "Are you alright?"

The incident had been enough to make him almost forget that a few moments ago he'd wanted to tear off what little she wore and take her from behind against the boxes from Bikanel's most recent shipment. Almost.

He might have gotten out of trouble entirely had it not been for the way her hands splayed out across his chest.

And the way her breath hitched…

He caught her gaze, finding that she seemed alright, albeit slightly flushed.

So he gently lifted her chin up with his fingers and kissed her.

He'd been prepared that she'd push him away, calling out obscenities for the injustices he'd inflicted upon her. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and wound her fingers through his hair, he forgot patience and all sense of reason. He lost it.

Absolutely. Fucking. Lost. It.

He pulled her small, lithe little frame forcefully against his own, his hands traveling across the exposed skin of her back. She whimpered into his mouth and he responded by exploring her mouth with his tongue.

When she arched her back, pressing her chest into his, Gippal brought his hands to her waist. He was hardly aware of himself anymore. He hadn't realized that he'd slid his left leg between hers, hadn't realized that one of his hands was under one of the triangles of her bikini top. All he could concentrate on was the feeling of her warm skin and the soft noises she was making.

One of her hands had freed itself of his hair and hiked up the tail of his shirt so that his abs were exposed and she ran her nails gently over the muscles there. He was so hard it hurt.

"Rikku," he muttered, grabbing her ass while he bit his lower lip to keep from moaning. Her lips were on his neck, just beneath his jawbone. And when she found it, that spot it seemed only she'd ever known about, he tensed, "Fuck!"

"Shh!" she cooed, raking her hips over his thigh. "Quiet or someone will hear you."

"This is my shop!" he protested breathlessly in between kisses. "And you're my girl – what do I care if someone hears us?"

"Your girl, huh?" she smirked.

"Yeah," he smiled, capturing her lips with his own.

"S'cuse me, boy," a booming voice called out from just over the hood of the hover. "But you better be under there showin' her how to mend a carburetor."

"Pops!" Rikku cried out, feeling his hand gripping her ankle to pull her out from under the hover.

Gippal grimaced, following her out. He felt numb, jaw hanging open as he looked up at Cid from the ground just beside the hover. His voice was a little gruff, "O-of course, sir! A carburetor."

Cid turned to his daughter, smirking at her crimson cheeks, "You run along now, girl. This boy and I need to have a talk."

The Leader of the Machine Faction watched her scamper out of the workshop, calling out as she left, "Go easy on him, old man!"

Gippal glared at her, nervously scratching the back of his head.

Cid crossed his arms over his chest, "So, your girl, huh? How much ya willing ta bet on that?"