Title: Showing Off
Fandom: Star Ocean 2
Author: wallwalker
Characters: Ernest/Opera
Rating: G
Word Count: 966
Summary: Fancy dress wasn't Ernest's style, but Opera had always loved to show off.
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Amnesty 68 for the prompt "Show Off." Also 100ships (#14 – Navy)

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"This... really isn't my style," Ernest protested. That was an understatement, honestly; the dark blue suit was made of some heavy fabric that was impossible to move around in. It was fitted to him too well; there was no flair, no coat to dramatically blow in the wind, if there had been any.

"I know," Opera said brightly as she finished fastening the cuff links to his shirt. The cuffs felt entirely too much like shackles.

Ernest didn't think he was going to win this one, but he had to try. "Do we really need this?" he asked. "We already have the grant. Wouldn't it be better to focus on work tonight?"

"It's not just about one grant, Ern. We have to show off a little for the university if we want any future support. How many times do I have to explain this to you?"

He shook his head. "One less time than you're thinking. Please."

Opera laughed, patting his suit into place. "You look good, Ern," she said, more quietly. "I promise."

"I... thanks," he finally said. There wasn't much else he could say to that. Apparently he was some kind of heart-throb in the campus community, but he still wasn't used to it.

He definitely wasn't used to having this kind of attention. Opera was stunning in teal, a halter dress he hadn't seen before. The jewelry was especially interesting, antique gold and wrought in half-familiar patterns. Inspired by some sort of archeological discovery, he was sure, though he just couldn't remember which one; he made a mental note to ask her later. It was typical of her; if there was one thing that Opera made sure everyone knew, it was that she was there. She was always front-and-center, and usually the best-dressed and best-looking person in the room. She didn't have to put the rest of the room down to accomplish that - it was just how things were. If there was one thing the Vectra family was good at doing, it was showing off, even when they weren't trying.

Ernest had known that, of course. Everyone knew about the Vectra family, whether they wanted to or not. He had no real problem with them - it was just that his research wasn't the kind that he could do as the semi-celebrity partner of a wealthy heiress. Not on what the Federation politely called developed planets, anyway. The pre-spaceflight ones had their own difficulties.

And yet. Well. Opera wasn't just the best-dressed and best-looking in the room most of the time. She was often one of the smartest. She'd begged Ernest to let her read his notes - which he'd agreed to, under strict orders that she was not to share them with anyone without his consent, which she'd eagerly agreed to - and he'd come back the next afternoon to find she'd hammered his raw data into something like a respectable research grant proposal, one that avoided discussing the seedier side of searching for ancient ruins and focused on the potential for historical discovery or preservation. From what he'd understood at least - he'd had trouble reading the whole thing, it had been written like a business proposal and he just wasn't good at that sort of writing. Which was probably why he hadn't gotten more funding before then, because the university had eaten that proposal up and asked for seconds.

And so they'd planned the party - to celebrate his achievement, they'd said, although he knew it was more about photo ops than anything else. No doubt the tabloids would have a field day, he thought as he watched his date tie up her hair - the heiress and the professor going public with their relationship. There were all sorts of salacious and completely untrue details being spread about them - yes, she was beautiful, and the historians he'd modeled himself after would probably have had a hard time keeping their hands off of her. Ernest, though... well, he'd let people think what they wanted about him. Truth was, he was more interested in the adventure than the romance.

"You still look grumpy," she said, not even turning around as she pinned up the last lock of her hair. "Please, let me show you off for the night, Ern. You know you deserve it."

He sighed in frustration. "I'm not a prize," he tersely reminded her. "Which you should be thankful for - I'd make a damned poor excuse for one."

"I know," she said more gently, and stood up to take his hand. "I just. I feel like people should pay more attention to your theories. Being locked up like that, it makes them think you're some kind of fringe researcher, and I really think you're onto something. Unfortunately, if you want people to take you seriously, you have to network once in a while, right?"

Fringe researcher. Polite business-speak for crackpot. Well, he knew people thought that about him, and maybe they weren't even wrong. But Opera was still the best assistant he'd ever had, and... well. If she wanted to show off, he'd indulge her. Until he got too sick of it to pretend to be polite to the people who really did think he was crazy... but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"All right," he said doing his best to smile. "I'll try. Guess I'm ready as I'll ever be, huh?"

"Of course you are," she said, leaning in for an air-kiss - she couldn't risk leaving lipstick on his cheek, not without fueling even more rumors. No doubt she'd want a proper kiss later, but he could handle that. He tried to stand straight as he offered her his arm, and she took it with a bright smile before leading them out to their transport for the evening.

The craft was entirely too flashy for his tastes, and the same color as Opera's dress. She really did love to show off.