Flash Fiction Friday: One Star’s Honor

So, here we are, about to set out on another excursion into the delightful, terrifying, and occasionally frustrating world of Flash Fiction Friday. After a few weeks of downtime brought on by famine, disease, and a powerful bout of laziness, I’m back with a new story inspired by a roll of the Story Dice and fueled by coffee.

<Announcer>Coffee: Because drinking creamer and sugar alone would just be silly.</Announcer>

Actually, I’m doing something a bit different this week. I’ve been on something of a self-improvement kick the last few weeks, reading The Nerdist Way and Your Money Or Your Life, both of which I intend to review in the future, and getting back into exercise.

I decided that I didn’t want to write just another steampunk flash fiction with a few cool concepts but not a lot of depth, but instead something more challenging, something with subtext and romance and other cool stuff that’s hard to do well.

While there is always room for improvement, I’m pleased with the results and hope you enjoy this week’s story.

One Star’s Honor

Dania tipped the silvery visor down the tip of her nose and peered with an arched eyebrow across the café table at her companion. The iridescent reflection of the midday glare off her eyewear danced across his face, and he bent forward to dodge the light. From where Dania sat, it looked almost as if Wuln were trying to squirm his way down into the book just to avoid talking to her. Really, who still read paper books nowadays?

“I know what you’re doing, Dani, and I don’t appreciate it,” Wuln muttered with a bare glance in her direction over the top of the book.

Typical. Leave it to Wuln to sulk when any sane human would be bouncing with glee. “Sweets,” she rumbled as she pushed down the book so she could see his face. “It’s an honor. Why can’t you see that?”

His gaze met hers, and he gave her the look he reserved for battles he knew couldn’t win, but was determined to fight anyway. “I don’t care if they’re going to make the whole empire stop what they’re doing and spend an hour chanting about what I did and how handsome I am. I’m not going.”

A smile flashed Dania’s lips as she trailed the back of a claw along one of his fingers. “They don’t give out medals for being handsome.”

Though he was, and if the company ever started giving out medals for the most human sentients, Dania felt certain that Wuln would be the first recipient. Of course, she was a bit biased, but a wife deserved a few pardons when it came to such things.

Wuln scrunched up his nose at her, but did not pull his hand away. In fact, his cheeks pinkened a touch and his scent grew more acute, causing her to shiver. “No, but you know what I mean. It’s not a big deal. Really.”

That claw trailed up his palm, and she savored the warmth of his bare skin against the short hairs on the back of her hand. “I could make it an order.”

“You wouldn’t.”

By Sage, he could be stubborn. Dania laid her palm against his and caressed one of his fingertips with the edge of a claw as she rested a foot against his beneath the table. “No. I suppose I wouldn’t, but there’s no reason to be so swine-headed about this. Two hours. That’s all. Just be embarrassed for two hours, and then you’ll come home and we can pretend it never happened.”

Fingertips slid back against her claws as Wuln sighed. “They’re going to make me wear the whites. I hate wearing the whites.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up from deep in her belly. “I know you do, but you look so good in them. And it’s just for one night.”

“If I spill something, it’s going to stain.”

“When have you ever spilled anything?”

A temporary reprieve arrived in the form of lunch, delivered by a stick-thin human waitress with an altogether too-long mane for her tiny frame. Dania beamed inwardly that the excessive amount of bare skin displayed by the server did nothing to draw Wuln’s attention, though it grated that he took the opportunity to shield himself once more with that book.

She would need to take another approach. The near-intoxicating aroma of her mate’s desire indicated that her physical teasing had certainly had an effect, if not the intended result. Still, Wuln had given so much to the company in his years of service, and if they finally saw fit to show him even a fraction of the respect he deserved, she would not let that opportunity pass. Loving her had already cost him too much.

Neither spoke until their platters were nearly empty. Then he murmured, almost too softly to hear, “It’s not right. If I can’t take you with me, I don’t want to go. You’re not just my chef, you’re my wife. If anyone deserves to be there with me, it’s you.”

Dania whispered a soft sigh and stretched across the table to caress his cheek. “You sweet, stubborn, stupid man. Right now, it doesn’t matter what’s right or wrong. We’re together, and nothing they do or say can change that. Times will change, and things will get better, but for now, we take whatever victories we can, and it that means I have to stay home and make dinner while you listen to a dozen boring speeches about how good your béarnaise is while they give you your first Michelin, I’ll take it.”

Wuln kissed and nuzzled her palm before taking her hand in his and sliding it down to cover his heart. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

She could almost feel his heart chanting her name as she fell into his gaze. Slowly, she smiled. “Well, I have to admit that your béarnaise is pretty good.”

He snorted, but the tiny smile curling at the edges of his lips signaled her victory. “Fine. You win. I’ll go, but I’m not going to enjoy a moment of it.”

Dania felt her whole face brighten, and saw it reflected in Wuln’s own smile. “Just don’t eat too much of the slop they serve at the head table. I’ll have a feast waiting when you get home.”

“Yes, Chef.”

So, how do you think it turned out? Admittedly, I don’t have a lot of experience writing romance, but it was an interesting challenge and I plan to do more of it in the future.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below, and make sure to share this story though your favorite flavor of social media (I like strawberry cheesecake Twitter; it’s a lot of calories, but it’s full of Gundams and Sailor Scouts).