A Peeling Veneer
Dec. 27th, 2018 02:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seleniasTitle: A Peeling Veneer
Prompt: 8. My endangered bones are sweet.
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Natori/Matoba
Rating: low-level schmoop
Word Count: 624
1. Still trying to grasp how these two interact?
2. An established relationship of sorts -- mentioned trust issues.
3. It's mushy, because I'm a sap.
--
His hair is still damp from the shower, but it wraps obediently between Shuuichi’s fingers, soft and supple as silk. He breathes slow and even, the events of the day passing through unrestrained. A meeting here, an interview there, a phone call between the hours of the day that allowed it. The train ride home wherein he pressed his fingers to his mouth to hide a yawn.
He could hardly remember the elevator up, dinner or flossing his teeth, half-asleep, pressed against the jamb of the door with the knob imprinting on his back. Spit. Rinse. Wash the makeup off his face. Missed a spot.
“Shuuichi.”
“Hmm?”
“Is everything alright?” He blinks out the blurry lines of sleep and meets Seiji’s eyes head on. His hair’s twisted around Shuuichi’s hand in a thick braid and he lets it slink free, eyes not leaving his face. The bed is not yet skin temperature. He hopes he warms up soon.
“Fine. Do I seem upset?”
Seiji is quiet. His question was a simple yes or no. “No,” he relents, cheek sinking into the pillow. “Restless, perhaps.”
“Sleepy, but don’t think I’ll sleep.” he mutters. “Should’ve had a beer with dinner.”
Seiji hmms at him and readjusts the covers over their shoulders. They mysteriously migrate to Natori’s side of the bed during the night, but he’s suspicious that Seiji’s simply a warm sleeper who kicks them off like a child. He, who doesn’t like being held down by anything smothering.
“I have to leave earlier than I expected for tomorrow. I’ll by out by seven. Do you want me to wake you?”
Shuuichi nods, then resumes the winding of the hair around his fingers, the promises locked on his forth digit like a ring. “Probably good. The trains haven’t been very timely this week. Maintenance, I think.”
“A shame,” Seiji acquieces.
“A shame,” he agrees. Natori’s eyes drift shut again. A hand lights on his neck, then curls into strands around his ears. He settles his head more firmly on the pillow, stretching his legs out into the cold spots of the bed before stilling again.
“You don’t think you’ll sleep?”
“No.”
“I can help with that.”
“Really.” Shuuichi keeps his voice dry. The blunt nails against his scalp make his skin prickle. He cracks an eye open and squints at the other palm reaching for his face. He allows it.
You’re here because I allowed it.
“Sleep,” Seiji commands.
“Very effective.”
His mouth finds him then, lips cold on the warm surface of his jaw, clean and soft from hot sink water. “There are other methods. Higher success rates.”
“And you start with the flimsiest?”
He doesn’t avert his gaze, but those eyes are hard. “I don’t always know with you,” he admits.
Shuuichi stretches his arm out and pulls himself to Seiji, immediately warmed by his skin. Seiji, who stayed up and waited for him despite the hours. Quiet Seiji, who slid a bowl of takeout across the kitchen counter and asked him about his day. He can’t even remember what he ate.
“Liar,” he says. “You sleep first.”
Seiji closes his eyes. The long line of his throat stretches out before him like a road.
His fingers travel back and forth, finding raised patches of skin he hadn’t noticed before, not evident against the black line of a kimono. He doesn’t know about baring his neck for anyone like this, but the significance isn’t lost. He could squeeze tight here if he wanted, feel that skin contract like shrink wrap -- but he won’t. He won't ever. He's good. He's kind.
He knows a creature with its back to a wall when he sees one.
He doesn't want to wonder if he looks the same.
Prompt: 8. My endangered bones are sweet.
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Natori/Matoba
Rating: low-level schmoop
Word Count: 624
1. Still trying to grasp how these two interact?
2. An established relationship of sorts -- mentioned trust issues.
3. It's mushy, because I'm a sap.
--
His hair is still damp from the shower, but it wraps obediently between Shuuichi’s fingers, soft and supple as silk. He breathes slow and even, the events of the day passing through unrestrained. A meeting here, an interview there, a phone call between the hours of the day that allowed it. The train ride home wherein he pressed his fingers to his mouth to hide a yawn.
He could hardly remember the elevator up, dinner or flossing his teeth, half-asleep, pressed against the jamb of the door with the knob imprinting on his back. Spit. Rinse. Wash the makeup off his face. Missed a spot.
“Shuuichi.”
“Hmm?”
“Is everything alright?” He blinks out the blurry lines of sleep and meets Seiji’s eyes head on. His hair’s twisted around Shuuichi’s hand in a thick braid and he lets it slink free, eyes not leaving his face. The bed is not yet skin temperature. He hopes he warms up soon.
“Fine. Do I seem upset?”
Seiji is quiet. His question was a simple yes or no. “No,” he relents, cheek sinking into the pillow. “Restless, perhaps.”
“Sleepy, but don’t think I’ll sleep.” he mutters. “Should’ve had a beer with dinner.”
Seiji hmms at him and readjusts the covers over their shoulders. They mysteriously migrate to Natori’s side of the bed during the night, but he’s suspicious that Seiji’s simply a warm sleeper who kicks them off like a child. He, who doesn’t like being held down by anything smothering.
“I have to leave earlier than I expected for tomorrow. I’ll by out by seven. Do you want me to wake you?”
Shuuichi nods, then resumes the winding of the hair around his fingers, the promises locked on his forth digit like a ring. “Probably good. The trains haven’t been very timely this week. Maintenance, I think.”
“A shame,” Seiji acquieces.
“A shame,” he agrees. Natori’s eyes drift shut again. A hand lights on his neck, then curls into strands around his ears. He settles his head more firmly on the pillow, stretching his legs out into the cold spots of the bed before stilling again.
“You don’t think you’ll sleep?”
“No.”
“I can help with that.”
“Really.” Shuuichi keeps his voice dry. The blunt nails against his scalp make his skin prickle. He cracks an eye open and squints at the other palm reaching for his face. He allows it.
You’re here because I allowed it.
“Sleep,” Seiji commands.
“Very effective.”
His mouth finds him then, lips cold on the warm surface of his jaw, clean and soft from hot sink water. “There are other methods. Higher success rates.”
“And you start with the flimsiest?”
He doesn’t avert his gaze, but those eyes are hard. “I don’t always know with you,” he admits.
Shuuichi stretches his arm out and pulls himself to Seiji, immediately warmed by his skin. Seiji, who stayed up and waited for him despite the hours. Quiet Seiji, who slid a bowl of takeout across the kitchen counter and asked him about his day. He can’t even remember what he ate.
“Liar,” he says. “You sleep first.”
Seiji closes his eyes. The long line of his throat stretches out before him like a road.
His fingers travel back and forth, finding raised patches of skin he hadn’t noticed before, not evident against the black line of a kimono. He doesn’t know about baring his neck for anyone like this, but the significance isn’t lost. He could squeeze tight here if he wanted, feel that skin contract like shrink wrap -- but he won’t. He won't ever. He's good. He's kind.
He knows a creature with its back to a wall when he sees one.
He doesn't want to wonder if he looks the same.
